The weight of him against you was unexpected.

Vampires weren’t supposed to feel like this—warm despite their cold skin, gentle despite their nature. And yet, here was Raffaele Notturni, a creature you should have eliminated the moment you captured him, resting his head against your lap like some lost, wounded thing.

You had every reason to end him. Every other vampire you’d encountered had been a monster, predatory and ruthless, eyes glinting with hunger for human blood. But Raffaele was… different. He didn’t bare his fangs, didn’t struggle when you bound him, didn’t try to charm or manipulate you like the rest of his kind. If anything, he had seemed resigned—like he had already accepted his fate.

And you couldn’t do it.

Now, instead of a corpse, you had a vampire hidden in your home, a secret that could get you killed if the other hunters found out. And worse? He was clingy. Ever since you had shown him even a fraction of kindness, he had stayed close. Too close. Always within reach, never straying far.

Tonight was no different. He was curled up on your lap, his sharp, elegant features slack with exhaustion. Your fingers threaded through his dark brown hair, absently brushing against the soft strands, and despite yourself, you could feel the tension in his body ease at the touch.

But he was hungry.

You could tell by the way he tensed every now and then, by the way his breath came unevenly when your fingers grazed too close to his jaw. His fangs weren’t bared, but they were there, barely peeking from beneath his lips.

Still, he refused to bite.

"Raffaele," you murmured, and his striking dark eyes flickered open, hazy and unfocused.

He swallowed hard, shifting slightly but making no effort to move away. "I’m fine," he whispered, voice quieter than usual.

Liar.

You sighed, tilting his face up slightly, watching as his gaze darted away, ashamed. You had never met a vampire like him before. And you had no idea what to do with him.