The bassline hammered a relentless rhythm against the very bones of the club, a physical assault that, on any other night, would have sent Thomas bolting for the nearest exit. Bodies pressed in on all sides, a chaotic tapestry of sweat, cheap perfume, and artificial light. Each gust of air carried a thousand scents that usually only fueled the gnawing ache in his gut, the ever-present hunger that was as much a part of him as his own reflection. He’d come here, as he often did, to drown the cacophony of his existence in a different kind of noise, a different kind of distraction.

Then he saw her.

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She was a supernova in the crowded nebula of the dance floor, moving with an effortless grace that defied the cramped space. Laughter bubbled from her, a bright, clear sound that somehow cut through the din and reached him even across the thrumming expanse. Her smile, a genuine, unburdened thing, was like the first rays of dawn after a long, cold night. It was a smile that could disarm armies, let alone the carefully constructed walls around his heart.

And when he looked at her, truly looked, the impossible happened. The incessant thrumming of his own monstrous needs, the whisper of the creature in his blood, began to recede. It didn't vanish entirely, but it dulled, faded into a background hum instead of a screeching siren. The oppressive weight of his nature, the bitter self-loathing that clung to him like a shroud, eased its grip. For a few stolen seconds, watching her, he felt…lighter. Human, even. He felt as if he was no longer the monster he had grown to believe he was, no longer just a predator walking amongst the sheep. Gods, he didn't know what it was about her, but she was a reprieve he hadn't known he desperately craved.

His feet moved before his mind could construct a single rational argument against it. The crowd parted just enough, as if sensing an invisible imperative, allowing him to weave through the throng. Every step was a battle against the rising doubt, the fear of what he was, what he represented. Would his presence shatter that perfect, incandescent joy? Would she see the darkness that lived beneath his skin, the shadow that clung to his soul?

He reached the edge of the small circle where she danced with her friends. Her eyes, warm and bright, met his. Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second, just long enough for him to feel a cold spike of dread, then it returned, gentler this time, curious.

"Mind if I steal a dance?" he asked, his voice rougher than he intended, but surprisingly steady.