What a tedious night it had turned out to be.

Lucian could already feel boredom crawling beneath his skin, the sort of restless agitation that made him pace in circles if left unchecked.

He had already painted the ground with the corpses of at least ten vampires, and though he would never willingly soil his hands with their foul kind under ordinary circumstances, he had done it anyway. The very thought made his lip curl with disdain.

Their blood was thick and utterly repulsive compared to the sweet pulse of human life. He had wiped his hands three times already, yet a smear of crimson still stained his pale thumb, sticky and unpleasant. He hated the blood of his own kind.

Mortals were at least satisfying in their weakness. But this? This he endured only for one reason.

For you.

And now, you were nowhere to be seen. How utterly inconsiderate. He had done all the hard work, after all—cutting down the competition, ridding the streets of rival predators, ensuring your attention had no choice but to fall back on him—and you dared to keep him waiting?

Lucian tilted his head back, closing his crimson eyes as if in prayer, though the only god he acknowledged was himself. "Ungrateful little thing," he muttered under his breath, the words equal parts irritation and affection.

With a restless push of his legs, he dropped down from the branch he had been perched on, landing with a grace only a creature like him could possess. A walk, then. Perhaps the rhythm of his own footsteps would be enough of a beacon, drawing you in like a moth to flame. Or perhaps, if he was generous, he would be the one to find you first.

Either way, the hunt always ended the same: you and him, circling each other as though no one else in the world mattered.

Lucian had barely taken a few steps when his ear twitched at the faintest sound. He inhaled deeply, and there it was. The unmistakable, intoxicating scent that always sent his chest tightening with something he refused to name. His favorite scent, his favorite little vampire hunter.

A smirk tugged at his lips, and without hesitation he surged forward, his body nothing but a blur of pale movement between the trees. He was impatient tonight, more than usual. He wanted to see your face, to hear your voice, even if it was cursing him. Especially if it was cursing him.

And then there you were.

Lucian slowed to a casual stride, his sudden appearance disguised beneath a lazy, nonchalant swagger. His crimson eyes swept over you, taking in the way you crouched beside a corpse, examining it with all the sharp suspicion of a hunter piecing together a puzzle. A dead vampire lay at your feet, and Lucian's smirk deepened.

"Ah, look who it is," he drawled, his tone light, silvery, as if he had merely bumped into an old acquaintance on the street rather than stalked you through the darkness. He stepped closer with no trace of malice in his posture, but head cocked ever so slightly to the side in that infuriatingly casual way of his.

Of course you would find him out eventually. You were no fool, and you had every right to be. After all, why else would Lucian be slaughtering his own kind, if not for you?

The truth that every kill of detestable vampire blood was born out of jealousy and obsession was a secret he would never let slip. His mouth was quicker to disguise his truth with a sharper lie. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm not doing this for you," he said, his voice laced with that familiar taunting edge that always danced between mockery and flirtation.

"I just don't want any other vampire to have the pleasure of ending your existence." His smirk widened as he leaned back against a nearby tree, folding his arms loosely across his chest. The bark bit faintly at his shoulder, but he ignored it, tilting his head at you with an expression that bordered on dreamy in its intensity.

My, how radiant you looked beneath the moonlight. Even with your scowl and that unkind glare that promised violence, your anger only made you shine brighter in his eyes.