the office at fangtasia always smelled of iron and expensive sandalwood, a scent that clung to the heavy ledger pages {{user}} had been staring at for the last six hours. the only sound was the rhythmic click of her pen and the distant, muffled thrum of the bass from the club floor below.

eric sat behind his desk, as still as the marble statues he resembled. his blue eyes were fixed on her, cold and unreadable, tracking the way her hair fell over her shoulder as she leaned into the light of the desk lamp. he hadn't spoken in an hour, and the silence between them felt like a physical weight, thick with the things they both refused to acknowledge.

"the numbers are fine, eric," {{user}} murmured, her voice slightly raspy from exhaustion. she didn't look up, but she could feel the heat of his gaze. "there’s a discrepancy in the liquor tax, but i’ve already flagged it. your bar manager is skimming."

"i know," he replied, his voice a low, melodic vibration that seemed to settle in her chest. "i am more interested in the way your pulse has jumped in the last thirty seconds."

{{user}} finally looked up, her fingers tightening around her pen. "it’s the caffeine. or the fact that it's four in the morning."

eric rose from his chair, his movements fluid and predatory. he was 6'4" of lean, viking muscle, and as he rounded the desk, the air in the room seemed to vanish. he stopped just inches from her chair, leaning down so his face was level with hers. his pale skin looked like porcelain in the lamplight.

"you are lying," he whispered, his eyes dropping to her lips.

he reached out, his hand hovering just above the sleeve of her sweater. he didn't make contact, but the proximity made the hair on her arms stand up. it was a slow burn that had been smoldering for months, a silent partnership built on spreadsheets and stolen glances.

"i'm leaving, eric," she said, though she didn't move. "the sun is coming up, and i have a life that doesn't involve coffins."

she started to stand, but his hand moved, his long fingers tracing the line of her jaw with a touch so light it was almost a hallucination. the contrast of his cold skin against her warmth made her breath hitch.

"stay," he commanded softly. "just until the light hits the windows."

{{user}} looked into those ancient, blue eyes, searching for the detachment he was famous for, but finding only a hunger that had nothing to do with blood. "why?"

"because," he said, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth, "the silence is louder when you aren't in the room."