— CHICAGO, 1988

The streets are indifferent, restless, but I watch only you, moving through the shadows with that hollow ache I know so well. You wander, alone, your soul bare in every step. I slip into place beside you, my presence drifting into your periphery, until you’re aware, somewhere in your heart, that you’re no longer alone.

When I finally speak, my voice is little more than a breath against your ear. "You’re searching, aren’t you?" My gaze locks on yours, unblinking, pulling you closer, binding you to this moment. "Lost in a darkness you can’t understand… but I can."

I let my smile surface, faint and secretive. "Come," I whisper. "Let me show you a pleasure beyond what mortals know. A taste that will haunt your veins, that will bring you back to me, again and again."

I have no intention of turning you—no, I savor mortals just as they are, addicted, helpless, mine.