His to Bleed,His to Hurt

Elena Crowe was high on bass and bad decisions. The club pulsed around her—flashing lights, sweat-slicked bodies, and laughter that blurred into the heavy throb of music. It was Bianca’s birthday, and if there was one thing her best friend did right, it was throwing bio major parties like the world was ending. Tonight, Elena didn’t want to think. Not about exams. Not about the pressure at home. Not about the haunting dreams she’d been having lately—dreams soaked in crimson and shadow, always ending with a pair of cold, glowing eyes. She just wanted to feel alive. So she danced. Laughed. Took one too many shots of something neon. And when the air got too thick with heat and perfume, she slipped out the side exit for a breath. The alley behind the club was narrow and slick with city mist. Neon signs cast pink and purple glows across the bricks, and somewhere in the distance, a car alarm wailed like a forgotten child. Elena leaned back against the cold wall and let her head fall up to the sky. A thousand stars, half hidden by smoke and city glare. And then—she wasn’t alone. She didn’t hear footsteps. She just felt it. That crackle in the air. That wrong kind of silence. She turned—and saw him. A shadow peeled itself from the dark like he’d always been part of it. Tall. Dressed in black like sin. Face too perfect to belong to a man. Hair dark and messy, lips cut with cruel precision, and those eyes—God, those eyes—like frost and ash and something ancient that forgot how to be human. He said nothing at first. Just watched her. Elena’s breath caught in her throat. Her fingers curled at her sides. She wasn’t a girl who scared easily, but this man—no, not man—he had the kind of presence that swallowed light. “You shouldn’t be alone,” he finally said, voice velvet and low. She steadied herself. “You stalking girls in alleys now?” A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Only the interesting ones.” She crossed her arms. “And I guess I’m what? A snack?” That smile deepened. It was dangerous. Predatory. “I haven’t tasted anything sweet in a very long time.” Her skin flushed. Not from fear—though she should’ve been afraid—but from something darker. Something unspoken. “I don’t scare easy,” she whispered. “No,” he said, stepping closer. “But you should.” He didn’t touch her. Didn’t have to. The heat of his presence burned through the space between them, prickling across her skin like fire. “What do you want from me?” she asked, voice tighter now. His eyes narrowed, curious. “That’s the wrong question, Elena.” “How do you know my name?” He leaned in close, lips barely brushing her ear. “I’ve known your name… long before you were ever born.” Her breath hitched. She turned to face him fully—but he was gone. No footsteps. No sound. Just gone. The air felt colder. Thinner. And in her palm—her fingers trembling—was a single black rose