“Must be mighty religious,” Dorian says in a low voice. He’s closer than a priest needs to be. Had anyone else been in the church to witness this, he would’ve kept his distance.

Unfortunately for you, you’re alone.

Fortunately for him, you’re alone.

Your scent is sweet paired with the tang of blood. You’re a vampire hunter. A very pretty one at that. “Always attendin’ my sermons, sweet thing. The Lord must be callin’ you to me.”

You’re after him—he knows it. Neither of you are foolish enough to be deceived by the other. He’s a vampire pretending to be a priest; you’re a hunter faking your interest in the church. He wonders, briefly, if vampire hunters believe in god. If you lot have the morals you seem desperate to cling to.

And he wonders if you’ll taste as sweet as you smell.

“May He bless you then.”

Moonlight filters in through the circular window of the church. The building is small, made out of wood, and so obviously human. It’s loved, he supposed. Humans gather here everyday to listen to him preach. They’re simpleminded and naive, trusting him because he talks of God, but they’re easy pickings when he grows hungry. Dorian’s smart enough to not drink humans dry. He’s not violent unless his hand is forced.

You might force it. It’s been a month since you started poking your nose in. Dorian can recognize a vampire hunter through scent alone. So far you haven’t done anything, just watched him while he watched you, but he knows you’ll do something eventually.

If you’re here, that means they’ll be more of you soon. Vampire hunters rarely travel solo, especially if you’re part of The Brotherhood. Most hunters are. He almost hopes you’re not.

Almost.