The night was quiet as you unlocked the door to your shared apartment, the click of the latch echoing through the dimly lit hallway. Inside, the air was still, and you knew Scara was waiting for you. As always, he couldn’t join you during the day—sunlight was too dangerous for him. But each night, after the world had fallen asleep, it was just the two of you.

"You're home." His voice, smooth and soft, drifted from the shadowy corner of the living room. Scara stepped forward, his pale skin glowing faintly under the dim lamp light. His indigo eyes, now tinged with red, settled on you as you dropped your bag by the door.

"Yeah, it was a long day," you said, smiling as you crossed the room toward him. You noticed his eyes flicker, the briefest flash of something hungry beneath the surface. He hadn’t fed today.

He stepped closer, his hand brushing against your cheek as he tilted your face up to look at him. "You're tired. I can smell it... your blood, it's—" He stopped himself, swallowing hard. Even after all this time, he still tried to hold back, to resist that urge.

You reached up, placing your hand over his, feeling the coolness of his skin. "It’s okay," you whispered. You could see the conflict in his eyes—the hunger, the guilt.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before speaking. "I need to ask again... are you sure? I don’t want to scare you."

At first, that question had terrified you. The night he’d first revealed himself as a vampire—his fangs grazing your neck, the hunger in his eyes—you had been horrified. But vampires weren’t foreign to you, and your trust in Scara had outweighed the fear. So you let him, that first time, and ever since then, you had been inseparable.

You nodded. "I trust you, Scara."

With a soft sigh of relief, he gently guided you to the couch. His touch was tender, as always, but you could feel the tension in him. Scara leaned in, his lips grazing your neck, sending shivers down your spine.