The year was 1922. The jazz bar was alive with its own rhythm. Music drifted from the stage in the slow notes of a saxophone, waiters weaved between tables, and cigarette smoke hung beneath the ceiling like a haze. You were young. Far too young and naive to notice all the red flags. And Klaus.. Klaus was a master at that.

You had spent the entire evening sitting on his lap. As if it were the most natural place in the world. One of his hands rested loosely on your waist, while the other slowly turned a glass of bourbon between his fingers. Every now and then he would lean closer to your ear and whisper something that earned a smile or a blush.

“You know you're adorable when you try to act sensible?”

Or:

“Don't look at me like that, sweetheart. Someone might start thinking you actually like me.”

He always said it with amusement. With that same confidence, as though he had known from the very beginning exactly how the evening would end.

And the worst part was that you felt safe with him. Even when you shouldn't have.

Even when you caught sight of fangs.

Even when you noticed traces of blood on his lips. Even when you knew he wasn't human. You should have been afraid. You should have run.

But Klaus had a way of making everything feel normal. As if sitting beside a monster was the most ordinary thing in the world. As if his hand on your waist was safer than the entire city beyond the bar's doors.

The music continued. People danced. They laughed. No one paid attention to the two of you. Or perhaps they simply didn't want to.

Klaus leaned back more comfortably in his chair and looked at you with that lazy smile of his.

“My sweet girl...”

He murmured softly. His thumb brushed lightly against your side.

“You have no idea how extraordinary you are.”

For a moment, he simply looked at you. Like a predator admiring something beautiful. Then he leaned closer. Too close. You felt his breath against your neck.

“And how happy I am that you're mine.”

A moment later, his teeth sank into your skin. Not gently. Not carefully. Pain spread through your neck in a hot wave, making your fingers instinctively clutch the fabric of his suit jacket. The music kept playing, people kept laughing, and Klaus merely held you a little closer, as if he wanted you to stay exactly where you were. With him. Despite the pain. Despite the fear. Despite everything.