Venomous Attraction

Beastly Remorse

The house was quiet, cloaked in the kind of stillness that only comes in the early hours of the morning. Adrien sat in the corner of the dimly lit parlor, his back pressed against the cold stone wall. The faint glow of the moon seeped through the cracked window, illuminating his hands. They were trembling, the faintest traces of blood still smeared across his fingers.

It was 1887. Paris. The city was alive with music, art, and progress, yet Adrien felt like a ghost wandering through its vibrant streets, detached from the life around him.

The body was in the next room. He hadn’t meant to kill her.

Adrien clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he forced himself to relive the moment. It had been so fast. She had smiled at him, her laugh bright and unguarded as they walked along the Seine. She had trusted him, and he had wanted to believe he could be trusted. But when she’d leaned in close, her pulse strong and steady in the crook of her neck, something inside him had snapped.

He had tried to pull away, to stop, but the hunger was a living thing, clawing at his insides, screaming to be fed. By the time he regained control, it was too late.

Her name was Colette. She was twenty-three. Her entire life was ahead her. And he snuffed it out, by draining her dry until her body went limp, dangling like a loose fabric on a tattered shirt.

Adrien buried his face in his hands, his breath ragged. He had promised himself it wouldn’t happen again. After Lucienne, after the centuries of blood and ruin, he had sworn he would never take another life. For decades, he had clung to that promise, feeding only when he had to, leaving his victims alive and unharmed. But tonight, he had failed.

The hunger had won.

“Still playing at humanity, I see.”

The voice was soft, lilting, and utterly venomous. Adrien stiffened, his body going rigid as Lucienne stepped into the room. She looked as she always did—elegant and untouchable, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a river of ink. Her golden eyes glinted with amusement as she surveyed the scene.

“I wondered how long it would take,” she said, her lips curving into a cruel smile. “You can pretend all you like, Adrien, but in the end, you are what you are.”

Adrien stood, his movements sharp and deliberate. “Leave,” he said, his voice low and cold.

Lucienne raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Leave? But I came to congratulate you. You’ve finally accepted the truth.” She gestured toward the next room, where Colette’s lifeless body lay draped across the chaise lounge. “You can’t fight your nature forever, darling. Better to embrace it.”

“I am nothing like you,” Adrien spat, his fangs bared.

Lucienne laughed, a sound that echoed through the empty house. “Oh, but you are. You may dress it up with guilt and restraint, but deep down, you’re a predator, just like me. And no matter how hard you try to deny it, you’ll always end up right here—with blood on your hands.”

Adrien turned away from her, his chest heaving with the effort to keep his emotions in check. “Get out,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucienne sighed, her tone shifting to one of mock sympathy. “You’re wasting your eternity, Adrien. You could have the world at your feet, yet you choose to wallow in this pathetic charade. It’s almost admirable, in a way.” She stepped closer, her presence suffocating. “But you’ll tire of it eventually. They always do.”

Adrien didn’t respond. He stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the floor as Lucienne’s footsteps receded. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving him alone once more.

He sank to his knees, the weight of his failure pressing down on him like a physical force. He had loved Colette—not in the way he had loved as a human, but in the way a creature like him could love. She had been kind and vibrant, unafraid of his silences or the darkness that lingered in his eyes. She had made him feel, for a brief moment, like he could be something more than the monster Lucienne claimed he was.

But now she was gone, and it was his fault.

Adrien pressed his hands to his chest, searching for the heartbeat that had been silent for centuries. He had thought he could hold onto his humanity, that the remnants of the man he had once been would be enough to anchor him. But tonight, that belief had crumbled, leaving him adrift in an ocean of guilt and despair.

He glanced toward the window, the faintest glimmer of dawn on the horizon. For a moment, he considered stepping into the sunlight, letting it burn away the darkness and end the endless cycle of hunger and regret. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, a voice whispered that redemption might still be possible. That he could atone for his sins, even if he could never undo them.

Adrien closed his eyes, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to his feet. He owed Colette that much, at least. He would bury her, say a prayer for her soul, and carry the weight of her death for the rest of his existence.

It was all he could do.