Blood and desires

Black Hollow was a town where the mist never quite lifted.

It clung to the cobblestone streets like breath on glass, curling around lampposts and tree branches like it had memories it refused to let go of. The town itself was quiet, tucked into a forgotten corner of the world where most people were born, lived, and died without ever leaving. Evelyn Hart wasn't sure if she hated that or needed it.

She liked the quiet. The routine. The comfort of familiar shadows.

It was nearly midnight when she locked the door of Hollow & Thorn Books, the little secondhand shop where she worked. The air was damp and heavy with the scent of old earth and wet stone. Her boots clicked gently as she walked down Rosevale Lane, arms wrapped around her coat, the town's silence pressing in around her like a blanket.

The fog was heavier tonight.

It slithered low and slow, swallowing the sidewalks. The streetlamps buzzed and flickered overhead like they, too, were struggling to see.

Evelyn paused at the edge of the alley that cut behind her apartment complex. She usually took the long way home, just in case. But tonight... something pulled at her. The fog curled inwards like a hand, beckoning.

She stepped forward.

Halfway down the alley, her footfalls softened against the damp stone. The sound of the town faded. The stillness deepened.

That's when she heard it-a whisper. Low. Smooth. Male.

"You shouldn't walk alone at night, Miss Hart."

Evelyn froze, her heart thudding. She spun around.

A man stood at the alley's end, where fog and shadows blended too thick to see clearly. He didn't move, just stood there-tall, motionless, almost too still. Her breath caught in her throat. She could barely make out his face, but what she saw chilled her: pale skin, dark coat, high cheekbones, and eyes-no, glints-that shimmered red in the dark.

"Who-who are you?" she asked, her voice a near whisper.

He took a slow step forward, and the mist seemed to move with him, parting slightly around his form. "A stranger. Passing through."

She instinctively took a step back.

"I don't mean you harm," he added, his voice calm, cultured, unnervingly steady. "I just found it strange that a woman like you would brave the fog alone. Black Hollow isn't as safe as it looks."

"I've lived here all my life," she said, forcing strength into her tone. "Nothing ever happens here."

"Perhaps that's the problem." He smiled faintly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

A silence settled between them. It wasn't uncomfortable. It was charged-the kind of silence that hums just before lightning strikes.

"Do I know you?" she asked, frowning.

"No," he said smoothly. "But I know you."

Her pulse quickened. "That's not creepy at all."

He chuckled, the sound low and dry. "You always walk this alley. Same time. Same coat. Same cautious glance over your shoulder. I wondered when you'd notice me watching."

She should have turned and run. But instead, she asked, "Why?"

"Because I'm drawn to you." His eyes flared red for the briefest second, then dimmed. "Even though I shouldn't be."

Something inside her fluttered-not fear. Something warmer. Something stranger.

She stared into the fog, trying to read his silhouette. "What's your name?"

He hesitated. "Lucian."

Just Lucian. No last name. No explanation. Like a ghost offering his real name might make him mortal again.

"Well, Lucian," she said, mustering courage, "thanks for the... warning. I'll take the long way next time."

"I hope you don't," he replied, voice barely a whisper now. "It's the only time I get to see you."

Her breath caught.

But when she blinked, he was gone.

Evelyn didn't sleep well that night.

She lay awake, tossing beneath the covers, the echo of his voice stuck in her head. She kept seeing the shimmer of his eyes in the dark, the way the fog curled around his body but never touched his skin. He was too still. Too cold. Too... inhuman.

But she wasn't afraid.

She was intrigued.

And that scared her more than anything.