Vet and vices
998 Words
Chapter Two – Velvet and Vices
The Wolf Watches
Elara’s fingers wouldn’t stop trembling, even as she fumbled with the keys to the small apartment she’d rented online. It was tucked above a bookstore at the far end of Bellamy Street—quaint in the pictures, but the hallway smelled like mothballs and dust, and the light overhead flickered like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to live or die.
Her breath came out in short, shaken bursts.
Blood. Gunshots. That man with the eyes like a storm.
And how he had disappeared like smoke.
She shook her head, trying to blink away the image. But it clung to her like perfume—him. The tall man in black with the stare that had cracked something open inside her. She didn’t know his name. Didn’t know who he was. And yet she could still feel him—like his presence had soaked into her skin.
She stepped into the apartment and locked the door behind her. One window. One creaky bed. A single bulb casting yellow light over the space. Home, for now.
She moved to the window and pushed it open. Afair’s air was cold but fresh, laced with pine and petrichor. The mist hadn’t lifted. It clung to the rooftops like a warning.
And far below, someone stood on the corner, watching her window.
The same silhouette. Still. Silent. Certain.
Elara’s heart clenched.
She blinked.
Gone.
A knock at her door made her jump. She nearly screamed, clutching the windowsill. Three slow knocks. Not rushed. Not frantic. Deliberate.
She crept to the door.
“Who is it?” she asked, hating how fragile her voice sounded.
Silence.
Then, “You shouldn’t have come here.”
The voice was velvet—smooth, deep, and unmistakably dangerous.
She unlocked the door on instinct, then immediately regretted it.
Lucien.
He stepped inside, uninvited but not unwelcome. His presence filled the room instantly—too tall for the low ceiling, too much for the dim light. His coat was soaked from the mist, his jaw tight with restrained emotion.
“I needed to see if you were safe,” he said, scanning the room as if expecting to find a threat hiding in the corners.
“You—what?” Elara’s mind spun. “I don’t even know who you are. How do you know where I—?”
“I felt you,” he said simply.
And somehow, she knew he was telling the truth.
Lucien’s gaze burned into her. “You saw what happened earlier. You shouldn’t have. They’ll come looking for you. For what you might’ve seen. And if they think you're connected to me...”
His voice dropped. “They won’t hesitate.”
“You still haven’t told me who you are,” she said, taking a step back.
He took a step forward. “Lucien Vire. And if you’re smart, you’ll forget my name. Forget this town.”
But she didn’t move. Couldn’t.
“You don’t scare me.”
A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “That’s because you don’t know what I am.”
Silence fell thick between them.
The air shifted.
Elara’s breath caught as the temperature dropped, and something wild stirred in Lucien’s eyes. Not just anger. Not just pain. Something... animal.
She backed up slowly, until her legs hit the bed frame.
“What are you?”
He didn’t answer. Not with words.
Lucien’s jaw clenched, and a growl rumbled low in his chest. His pupils dilated, swallowing the brown of his eyes until they were nearly black. The veins at his neck pulsed, and his fingers twitched as though they were resisting claws.
Elara watched, frozen. No. Not frozen.
Entranced.
His power filled the room—thick, magnetic. Like gravity was bending toward him. Like her soul already knew him.
Then—control. He inhaled sharply, turned away, and the storm receded.
"I shouldn't have come," he said through gritted teeth.
“Why did you?” she asked, breathless.
Lucien turned back to her, and this time, his voice was barely more than a whisper. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I saw you. Because your scent… it called to me. And that hasn’t happened in over a hundred years.”
She stared at him, stunned. “Are you saying…?”
“Yes,” he said darkly. “I’m not human. Not entirely. I’m something much older. Something cursed.”
A wolf howled in the distance, almost on cue.
Elara swallowed hard, her heart thudding. “You’re a werewolf.”
He nodded once, eyes never leaving hers.
“I’m also the heir to the Vire mafia family. So trust me, nothing about this is safe.”
She wanted to scream, to laugh, to run. But all she did was stare at him. Because despite everything… she wasn’t afraid. She was drawn to him. As if something inside her had been waiting for this moment her whole life.
Lucien reached out slowly, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. His fingers were rough, warm, trembling slightly.
“I shouldn’t want you,” he said. “But I do. And if you stay… Elara, you’ll be in danger from more than just the monsters out there. You’ll be in danger from me.”
She didn’t flinch.
Instead, she whispered, “Then don’t hurt me.”
His eyes widened—surprised. Tormented.
“I can’t promise that.”
Their breath mingled. Time slowed. For one suspended second, the world outside disappeared, and there was only him—this stranger, this predator, this man who looked at her like she was the only light in his eternal night.
And even as the wolf in him stirred…
He leaned in.
And kissed her.
Not soft. Not slow.
Claiming.
And Elara kissed him back, heart racing, soul burning.
Because some things—no matter how dangerous—feel like destiny.
And in Afair, destiny had just chosen them.
- Writer
