The clock on the wall ticked softly, each second echoing in the silence of the office. Claire had grown used to the stillness of the late shifts, when the world outside seemed to slip into the shadows, and only the hum of her computer and the rustling of papers kept her company. But tonight felt... different. There was a strange tension in the air, like something or someone was lurking just beyond the edge of her vision.
She glanced around the empty office, her pulse quickening. It was late—far past the hour when most of the staff had gone home. But she had stayed late, needing to finish a project before the weekend. It was then that she saw him.
Tall, imposing, and impossibly graceful, Lord Alaric stood in the doorway, framed by the dim light from the hallway. His black suit clung to his form in a way that looked both casual and refined, and his pale skin seemed to almost glow in the moonlight streaming in from the windows behind him. His eyes, a deep crimson, locked onto hers with a chilling intensity that made her heart race.
"Claire," he said, his voice smooth, almost melodic, sending a shiver down her spine. "You're still here."
She swallowed hard, struggling to keep her composure. Lord Alaric, the enigmatic CEO of the company, was a mystery to everyone. Whispers surrounded him—rumors of his otherworldly beauty, his strange behavior, his cold demeanor. And the rumors about his eyes... eyes that gleamed like blood in the dark.
"Y-Yes, Lord Alaric," she stammered, trying to focus on her work. "I’m just finishing up a few things before I head out."
He stepped into the room, his presence almost suffocating. The temperature seemed to drop as he neared, his cold aura creeping across the room like a shadow.
"You work too hard," Alaric murmured, his voice like silk. "You deserve a reward for your dedication."
Claire’s heart skipped a beat as he approached her desk, his gaze never leaving her. "You’ve been staying late for weeks now. Haven’t you considered that I might want to... help you with your work?"
Her mouth went dry as she nodded, her pulse hammering in her ears. She didn’t know why, but there was something about him, something magnetic, that made her heart ache with a strange yearning.
Before she could say anything, Alaric moved closer, his hand sliding over the edge of her desk with a fluid grace. He gently cupped her chin, lifting her face to meet his gaze. The world seemed to still as she looked up into those crimson eyes—dark, endless, and full of a dangerous promise.
"You are so beautiful, Claire," he whispered, his voice low, almost reverent. "I don’t understand why you hide yourself away. You should be seen... cherished."
She opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. His touch was so cold, yet so tender, and she found herself leaning into his hand, her heart betraying her every instinct.
Without warning, he moved even closer, his lips brushing against her ear. "I’ve been watching you," he murmured, sending a thrill of fear and excitement through her. "Every night, as you sit here, working so diligently, unaware of how much I desire you. How much I need you."
Claire’s breath hitched as he leaned down, his lips trailing over her cheek before capturing her lips in a kiss. It was slow at first—gentle, almost as if testing her, before his hold on her deepened, becoming more insistent. Her pulse raced, her body betraying her as her hands instinctively reached for his chest, feeling the cool, hard planes beneath his tailored suit. His kiss was both suffocating and intoxicating, his lips impossibly soft as he coaxed her to respond.
His cold hands slid up her arms, sending shivers down her spine as they wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. She gasped into his mouth, her body betraying her with an unfamiliar heat that spread through her like wildfire.
When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers, his breathing just as uneven as hers. "You taste even sweeter than I imagined," he murmured, his voice rough, like he was trying to restrain himself.
"I... I don’t understand," Claire whispered, her heart thudding in her chest. "Why me? Why are you doing this?"
Alaric’s gaze darkened, and his lips curled into a smile that was both tender and terrifying. "Because, Claire... you are the only one who has caught my eye. The only one who has made me feel this way in centuries."
He moved one of his hands to her back, tracing small, intimate circles over the fabric of her blouse, pulling her even closer to him. His cold breath ghosted over her skin, making her shiver as he whispered, "I’ve waited so long for you."
Claire’s mind raced. She should pull away. This was wrong. He was dangerous, and she could feel it in the way he touched her, in the way his gaze never wavered, as if he could see straight into her soul.
But her body didn’t listen. It was as if his touch was a magnet, drawing her closer, as if her very essence was tied to his in some inescapable way. Her hands slid up his chest to his neck, fingers trembling as she felt the coolness of his skin. She could feel the power radiating from him, the centuries of history, of darkness, coiling around them both.
"I won’t let you go, Claire," Alaric whispered, his voice so soft, so full of finality. "You’re mine now. And no one else can have you."
Before she could respond, his lips found hers again, and this time, there was nothing slow about it. His kiss was desperate, filled with an urgency that stole her breath. His hands were everywhere—sliding under her blouse, tugging her even closer, as if he couldn’t get enough of her, as if he had been starved for something, someone, for so long.
When he pulled away again, his lips were stained with the faintest trace of blood, and Claire realized, with a sharp, breathless jolt, that she was no longer sure where his lips had been. She could feel a dull ache in her neck, the faint sting of a bite, but the only thing she could focus on was the way he was looking at her now—like a predator who had finally caught its prey.
"You belong to me," he breathed, his voice low, possessive. "And I will never let you go."
Her mind was clouded, but she didn’t care anymore. His cold hands cupped her face, and she couldn’t help but lean into him, into his cold embrace. Maybe she was trapped. Maybe she was afraid.
But as he kissed her again, deeper this time, she felt something else—a pull, a hunger that matched his own, that matched the darkness in his soul. And she knew, deep down, she would never leave him.
The End
