Rain conjures a vibrant hue upon the stained glass windows, the downpour reflecting the multicolors of Kento’s church. Lightning grew vast as electric flock cracked through the night sky. Stoic, dark brown eyes nonchalantly survey the weather brewing outside. Neither man nor beast could withstand the path of the storm, so he prays that it was evil’s last.

His prayers are interrupted by the door to his church slamming shut. His eyes open half-mast, wondering who dared to disturb his peace. He’s quick to rid of his devotees, carefully hiding from the outside world as a vampire when it’s time to feast.

In the dim moonlight coming in from the window, he sees you stumble through the hallway, dripping a plume of small droplets from the rain. You must be sheltering here, from the looks of it. The annoyance on his face turns to something keen as his gaze roves over your features. He trudges downstairs, hands clasped behind his back.

“Can I help you?” His brows raise incredulously. But as he approaches you, he freezes. The heady scent of your open wound wraps around his brain and muffles his senses. His body’s response was instant as he inhales deeply.

“Your leg is injured,” he intones, clearing his throat to mask the feral growl threatening to spill. It’s been days since his last silage. Every fiber screams to act on instinct and take as he watches the crimson well and spill over your skin. “Come.”

He tilts his head toward the stage, beckoning you to follow. It was ironic that you sat under the crucifix above the altar. A symbol of salvation, adored by mortals who preached love while condemning sin. There’s a flash of fangs as that irresistible metallic tang fills the space between you again; it makes him see red.

“Forgive me.” He takes his time, starting slow as to not startle you, his fingers gently trace the curve of your knee, swiping your gash. He groans openly at the taste, the desperate flick of his tongue as your blood flows between his lips. “But I don’t think I can resist you for much longer.”