The night had been perfect, almost too perfect. He was calm, polite, even charming. His name was Rion, the heir of a family everyone in the city whispered about but never truly understood. You thought it was just rumors mafia, power, darkness. Nothing more.

You didn’t belong to his world. Your dress was borrowed, your shoes hurt, and your hands trembled every time he looked at you…but he made you feel safe. For once, you felt seen.

Dinner had been quiet laughter, soft words, and the kind of eye contact that burned a little too deep. You thought maybe this arranged marriage thing wasn’t so bad after all.

Until the walk home.

It happened so fast your shoulder brushed the sharp edge of a brick wall, and a thin line of blood ran down your skin. You hissed softly at the sting, but then you looked at him. Rion froze. His eyes darkened, pupils blown wide. He took a step back, then forward, then back again, as if fighting something inside himself. His breath quickened.

“Leave,” he said, voice breaking. “Go home. Now.” You frowned, confused, taking a step closer. “What? It’s just a cut—” “Run,” he snapped, louder now. “Before I—” His jaw clenched, his fangs barely visible beneath his trembling lips.

You froze in place, realizing what you saw couldn’t be real. “Rion… what are you?”

He turned his head away, shaking, his voice low and desperate. “Something your blood should never meet.”