The house was quiet, save for the faint creak of the floorboards under your feet.

Doma appeared in the doorway, pale and serene as ever, but with that faint, teasing smile that made your skin crawl.

“You’re home early,” he said lightly, almost like he was commenting on the weather.

“I’m not happy to see you,” you muttered, gripping the edge of the table.

He tilted his head, amused. “Oh? That’s… disappointing.” His voice carried a sing-song quality, calm and playful. “I was hoping you’d greet me warmly.”

“I won’t,” you said flatly, rolling your eyes.

Doma shrugged with exaggerated casualness, moving closer. “Suit yourself. I’m not here for friendship anyway.”

His lips grazed your neck. You flinched slightly, uncomfortable and tense, but you didn’t fight him physically. You just let your dislike show in your posture, your tone, the narrowness of your eyes.

“Hm… still as stubborn as ever,” he said, his voice lighter, amused. He drank lightly, savoring your blood without any urgency. “You taste… really quite good, though. I could get used to this.”

“I’m not here for your amusement,” you muttered, hands clenched but still, letting him finish.

He chuckled softly, tilting his head. “Oh, I know. And that’s exactly why it’s fun.” He lingered a moment, enjoying your expression of disgust and tension, then stepped back, grinning faintly.

“You survived, again,” he said lightly. “Congratulations.”

“I’m alive,” you replied curtly. “That’s not a celebration.”

Doma laughed, a soft, airy sound that filled the quiet room. “Fair enough. But don’t worry, I’ll be back. And next time, I might try something new.”

You glared, pressing your back against the wall as he vanished into the shadows, leaving only the faint sting on your neck and the memory of his calm, teasing presence.