CHAPTER TEN

The club throbbed, a chaotic symphony of bass and sweat. I moved against the current of bodies, each pulse a dull ache against my heightened senses. It was a feeding ground, a hunting preserve, and one I'd cultivated for decades. But tonight, the usual carnal scents were muted, overshadowed by something far more potent, far more dangerous.

Lilies and sunshine. Pure, untainted, radiating a life force that was almost blinding. It was a homing beacon, a siren's call in the swirling darkness, pulling me relentlessly toward the bar.

And there she was.

Eleanor.

Illuminated by the strategically placed bar lights, she was an anomaly. A delicate wildflower blooming in a field of thorns. Her hair, a beautiful milk chocolate, framed a face that could launch empires and win them with a single glance. Her eyes, wide and the color of a summer sky just after a storm, held a spark – a defiance, perhaps? Or maybe just a raw, untarnished curiosity. Whatever it was, it was a lethal allure.

She was out of place here, a concept that should have triggered the primal instinct to protect, to shield her from the wolves that prowled these shadows. But, she was here. In my domain.

The rational part of my mind screamed in silent agony. Get her out. Now. Erase her from your memory. She's a distraction, a vulnerability you cannot afford. You cannot, will not, be attached to a mortal ever again. The weight of past losses, of fleeting lives and enduring grief, pressed down on me, a familiar suffocating blanket.

But the predator within, the ancient hunger that burned in my veins, had already silenced reason. The scent of lilies was a drug, clouding my judgment, inflaming my senses. My soul was at war with itself, torn between self-preservation and an irresistible…need. I had tried to exorcise her image from my thoughts, to excise the memory of our brief encounter weeks ago. But she had returned. And now, she was...intriguing.

The scent intensified with each step closer, threatening to overwhelm my carefully constructed control. I forced myself to take a steadying breath, channeling the centuries of discipline, the countless battles fought and won against my own darker impulses. No matter how captivating she was, I couldn't lose control. Not again.

I slid onto the stool beside her, and felt a jolt, a visceral reaction that sent a tremor through my undead heart. Her body immediately stiffened, a subtle but unmistakable sign of my unsettling presence. Good. Let her feel the weight of my gaze, the electric hum of my power. Let her body tingle with a primal awareness she couldn't comprehend.

I motioned to Silas, my long-serving bartender, a gaunt creature with eyes that held the secrets of a thousand spilled sins. "Merlot, Silas. The '86." My voice, usually a controlled baritone, felt rough, strained.

As Silas scurried away, his movements as fluid and silent as a wraith, the scent of Eleanor intensified, radiating off her like heat from a forge. The lilies threatened to drown out everything else, a symphony of purity assaulting my senses. Focus, Kaelen. Every movement, every word, had to be calculated.

I observed her discreetly. She was poised to flee, her shoulders tense, her hand gripping the edge of the bar like a lifeline. Any moment now, she would bolt, disappear back into the throng, and I would be left with the agonizing echo of what might have been.

I couldn't let that happen.

Just as she began to push herself up from the stool, I moved. A fluid, almost imperceptible shift, honed by centuries of practiced grace. I was on my feet too, the merlot already in hand, the glass swirling with dark, seductive promise. "Careful now," I murmured, injecting a touch of playful amusement into my tone. Destiny, or perhaps some darker, more insidious force, had provided the perfect opportunity, and I would be damned if I didn't utilize it.

Our collision was orchestrated, precise. The soft bump of her shoulder against mine, the clink of glass against glass, and then the cool, shocking rush of merlot soaking through my black linen shirt. The dark fabric instantly clung to my skin, a stark contrast to the pale blush rising on Eleanor's cheeks. The scent of wet earth mingled with the lilies, a tantalizing combination.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" Her voice was like a chime, soft and lilting, with a slight American twang that sent a strange tremor through me. Her eyes, the color of a summer sky, widened with genuine distress. "I didn't see you there."

I allowed a smile to play on my lips, a flash of teeth that I knew could be both charming and unsettling. "No harm done, Miss…?" I left the question hanging in the air, a subtle invitation. A test.

"Eleanor," she supplied, averting her gaze. "Eleanor Spencer. But, please, call me Ellie."

"Ellie," I repeated, savoring the sound of her name on my tongue, the way it tasted like sunshine and innocence. It felt…dangerous. "A pleasure, Ellie. I'm Kaelen." I extended a hand, my fingers brushing deliberately against hers as she hesitantly took it.

Her skin was soft, warm, alive. So very alive. A stark reminder of the chasm that separated us, a chasm I was now recklessly considering leaping across.

"Perhaps I can, at the very least, buy you another drink to atone for my clumsiness?" I tightened my grip slightly, drawing her attention back to me.

She hesitated, glancing around the club as if calculating the odds of a successful escape. But then, her eyes met mine, and something held her captive. Was it the darkness lurking beneath the surface of my carefully crafted charm? Did she sense the power that thrummed beneath my skin? Defiance? Curiosity? Or something else entirely, something that mirrored the dangerous fascination I felt for her?

She had to be mine. Not in the possessive sense that I'd come to despise, but rather, I had to know her. Possesion was not the game I was playing here.

"I… I suppose one more couldn't hurt." Her voice was barely audible, a wisp of sound against the thundering baseline of the music.

A wider, more genuine smile stretched across my face. I signaled Silas, a silent command. This was just the beginning. The first thread in a tapestry I was already weaving around her, a tapestry of intrigue, desire, and perhaps, ultimately, destruction.

"One more it is, Ellie."

With a subtle gesture, I motioned for her to sit back down. "Please," I murmured, reclaiming the stool I'd just vacated, ensuring her proximity.

Her cheeks flushed a delightful pink. She fumbled with a stack of napkins, thrusting them towards me. "Here, please, let me help you dry that."

I took the offered napkins, dabbing at the wet patch spreading across my chest. Honestly, I couldn't care less about a bit of spilled wine. My clothes had seen far worse in my two centuries of existence. Still, I allowed her the pretense of helping, enjoying the proximity and the way her fingers brushed against mine, sending sparks up my arm.

"Don't fret, love," I said, tossing the damp napkins onto the bar. "A bit of spilled grog is hardly the end of the world." I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the worn wood, my gaze fixed on her. "Tell me, Ellie, what brings a creature of the light to such a… dark establishment such as this? What is it that you seek and desire?"