TAINTED BY THE BLIND GIRL

Rain whispered against the city streets as Anya tapped her cane lightly, letting the familiar sounds guide her. Every puddle, every distant honk, every soft footstep was mapped in her mind.

Then she felt it-a presence. Close. Heavy. The faint scent of cedar and leather wrapped around her, almost like it was part of the rain itself.

"Lost?" The voice was low, velvet smooth, Russian-accented. Viktor. His proximity made the air thick, charged.

Anya didn't move back. "Not lost," she said softly, tilting her head, her senses mapping him in ways her eyes never could. "Just... aware."

A slow exhale. "Aware," he repeated, almost like tasting the word. "That's dangerous... but intriguing."

Her pulse quickened. She could feel the heat radiating from him, subtle, almost unbearable. Each movement of his made the air vibrate against her skin. He was too close to be casual. Too present to be safe.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice steady but quieter now, almost intimate.

"Someone who sees more than most do," Viktor murmured. The faintest brush of his coat against hers made her catch her breath. "And someone who notices you... unlike anyone else."

Anya's lips curved slightly. "Then I suppose I'll have to keep listening."

Viktor's chuckle was low, dangerous. "Good. I like being heard."

And there it was-unspoken, undeniable. A dangerous pull, a tension thick enough to drown in, and a slow burn that neither of them could ignore.