the scent of iron and rain was too thick for the small office to contain. {{user}} leaned back against the leather chair, her breath hitching as she pressed a ruined flannel shirt against the jagged tear in her side. a silver-tipped claw from a rogue vamp had caught her during the scuffle at the front door, and the wound was sluggish to knit, fighting the lingering sting of the metal.

across the desk, eric didn't move. he sat perfectly still, a modern viking carved from ice and shadow, his blue eyes tracking the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. the neon sign from the bar downstairs hummed through the floorboards, casting a rhythmic, sickly pink glow over his slicked-back hair and the sharp planes of his face.

"you’re bleeding on my chair, {{user}}," he said, his voice a low, melodic grate that skipped down the werewolf's spine. "it’s a distraction."

{{user}} let out a sharp, pained laugh, her fingers tightening on the fabric. she could feel the heat radiating from him, that predator's stillness that usually made her hackles rise. tonight, it just felt like a heavy weight she didn't have the strength to push back.

"then stop looking at it, eric," she countered, her voice dropping to a gravelly simmer. "or stop looking at me. i can’t tell which one is bothering you more tonight."

the silence that followed was heavy, pressurized by the forced proximity of the cramped office. eric rose from his seat, his 6'4" frame unfolding with a terrifying, fluid grace. he didn't stop until he was deep in her personal space, his knees nearly brushing her thighs. the air between them turned electric, charged with the scent of old norse woods and the copper tang of her distress.

he reached down, his cold fingers ghosting just above the skin of her arm, not quite touching but claiming the air around her.

"the blood i can handle," he murmured, his voice dropping into a register that was purely ancient, purely predatory. "it’s the way you refuse to ask me for help that is... inconvenient."