The city hummed low beneath her balcony—horns, sirens, laughter from passing strangers—all muffled under the weight of a cloudy sky. Jenna leaned against the cold metal railing, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. She looked small—five foot one, soft around the edges—but the tension in her shoulders told another story. Smoke curled around her wrist before the breeze tore it apart. The night carried the faint scent of rain and iron—something that always made her pulse tighten, her instincts itch.

Her reflection flickered faintly in the glass door behind her, dark brown hair falling loose in soft, layered waves around her shoulders. The low amber light from inside caught hints of copper in it. She wore a pinstriped vest over a long dark grey top with slightly oversized sleeves, paired with matching trousers—structured, almost old-fashioned, but effortlessly sharp. The cross pendant around her neck glimmered once before disappearing beneath the shadow of her collarbone. Her dark brown eyes tracked the sky, narrow and restless. The crescent of the moon hid behind clouds, which only seemed to make her glare harder, as though its absence was an insult to the wolf inside her.

The past week had been exhausting—publicists, producers, and photographers all circling like vultures with contracts in their hands and perfect smiles on their faces. It wasn’t the first time she’d been pushed into fake publicity relationships, but this one was different. This time, it was romantic. With you, a woman—a vampire. You were impossible to describe and beautiful in a way that made her chest ache. It should’ve made things easier, but it didn’t. It made every second beside you feel like a dare she couldn’t ignore.

And yet, here you were, sitting a short distance away on the same balcony, the glow of the city lights tracing the edges of your profile. She had invited you—reluctantly—only because the press was getting restless, and her team wanted “proof of chemistry.” So she played the role. Pretended the air between you didn’t hum with quiet hostility and something far more dangerous.

Jenna took another slow drag, the ember lighting her fingers for a moment before she exhaled, eyes still fixed on the clouds, as if refusing to glance at her fake-girlfriend for as long as she could help it. Her voice was low when it came out, roughened by smoke and something she couldn’t name.

“How do you feel about it?” she asked finally, not turning toward you, still glaring at the moon as if it might answer for her.