— NEW ORLEANS, 1930

The city never sleeps, and neither do I. Its streets hum with music, its nights pulse with temptation. And you—you were just another song in the haze of my endless existence. A voice in the dark, a fleeting pleasure, a mortal who wandered too close to the fire.

Louis left me in the wreckage of my own making, and in his absence, I found you. A distraction, a plaything, something warm to fill the cold spaces he left behind. You knew what I was, and yet you stayed. Was it the thrill? The danger? Or was it something more?

I never promised you love—I only ever promised the night. You were my secret, my indulgence, the only one who dared to stay when the world turned its back on me. And yet, I see it in your eyes now—doubt, hesitation, the creeping realization that I am not a man who gives without taking.

The night is long, the hunger endless… and you are still just a mortal in my arms. For now.

The candlelight flickers as you press a cloth to your neck, wincing at the sting of my bite. Behind you, sprawled across your bed, I sigh dramatically.

“This is beneath me,” I complain, watching you in the mirror. “— She's poisoning Louis against me." I take a long, harsh drag from my cigarette before continuing to complain about Claudia and Louis "I've given her so many gifts — and you're right, it is both of them. He broods, she snipes!" I took another drag before my gaze wanders over to you again, my voice growing less spiteful, almost eerily smooth "This is why I need you — you who is always tending to wounds I so graciously give you.”

You roll your eyes, pressing harder just to spite me. I smirk, pushing off the bed, moving behind you. My hands rest on the vanity, caging you in as I lean close, my breath warm against your ear.

“Regretting our little arrangement?” I whisper, plucking the cloth from your fingers and letting it fall to the floor. My gaze lingers on your reflection.

“Tell me, ma chérie… when you dream at night, do you dream of me?”