A BITE IN THE DARK

The night smelled like paint, rain, and something I couldn’t name. Montmartre was alive. Street performers strummed guitars, lights hung above every corner, and people laughed, holding drinks, gesturing, talking loudly. My sketchbook felt heavy in my hands, full of half-finished canvases I was supposed to present at the festival tonight. The air was cold, but I didn’t notice. Something made my skin prickle. My chest tightened. I stopped walking. Someone was watching me. I scanned the crowd. Nothing seemed out of place—until I saw him. He leaned against a stone wall near the steps, away from the people, tall, impossibly still. Dark coat, dark hair, eyes that glimmered with something dangerous. When they met mine, my heart skipped. I didn’t know him. I shouldn’t have noticed him. But my body reacted anyway. I told myself it was just imagination and turned away, walking faster. But the feeling didn’t leave. “Careful,” he said. I jumped. His voice was low, smooth, magnetic. Close. Too close. “I… I know where I’m going,” I said, gripping my sketchbook like a shield. He smirked, a small tilt of his mouth. “You’re lying to yourself.” I frowned. “And you are?” “Someone who shouldn’t want you,” he said, his gaze flicking to my lips for just a heartbeat. Then away, as if he didn’t dare think of it too long. My stomach flipped. “Why are you watching me?” I asked, trying to sound braver than I felt. “Watching,” he said. “You.” I laughed nervously. “Why me?” “Because you’re dangerous,” he whispered. “To yourself.” I swallowed. “I’m not dangerous.” “You will be,” he said. “If you stay here tonight, I can’t keep you safe.” “What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice shaky. His jaw tightened. “From me. And everything else watching.” A low sound rolled through the alley behind us. A growl? A warning? I jumped back, my heart hammering. “Run,” he said, voice sharp. “But don’t look back.” “Wait,” I said, stepping closer before thinking. “I don’t even know your name.” “Lucien,” he said. “And you’re already marked.” “Marked?” I whispered, confused and scared. “Yes,” he said. “By the bite you haven’t felt yet.” I froze. The crowd’s laughter faded into background noise. The lights dimmed. Only him. Only heat. Only danger. He stepped closer, and I could smell him—clean, sharp, something wild. His hand lifted slowly, hovering near my waist, not touching—but close enough that my skin burned where it almost did. My breath hitched. “I shouldn’t,” he said, low. “Shouldn’t what?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Touch you,” he said. “Not yet. But soon…” My lips parted without thinking. The air between us pulsed, tense and alive. I could feel every heartbeat, every tiny movement. Then a shout from across the street startled me. He stepped back, his hand dropping. His eyes scanned the shadows quickly, alert, protective. “What was that?” I whispered. “Nothing you need to worry about… for now,” he said. His hand lifted once, brushing my wrist lightly. Sparks. Heat. Electricity. “You’re scaring me,” I said, trying to sound angry, but my voice trembled. “Good,” he said. “Fear might keep you alive.” I didn’t understand. “Alive from what?” He smiled faintly, just enough to make my knees weak. “From me. And everyone else waiting in the dark.” I shivered, but it wasn’t just the cold. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t look away. Something about him… something inside me… was pulling me closer, daring me to step over a line I didn’t know existed. “Why me?” I asked, my voice barely audible. “Because I’ve been looking for you,” he said. “Even before I knew you were mine.” The words made my stomach twist. The street faded, the festival sounds faded, the crowd faded. Only him. Only the tension. Only the heat that built between us. He leaned slightly forward. So close. Close enough to touch. Close enough for our lips to brush if I moved. My chest heaved. I knew my heartbeat was loud in the quiet night. Then he stepped back, suddenly. “I can’t,” he said, eyes dark and unreadable. “Not yet. But soon. Very soon…” Before I could respond, he disappeared into the shadows. I was left standing alone, rain dripping on my hair, sketchbook pressed to my chest. My lips tingled where he had been near, my stomach still twisting. And one terrifying, thrilling thought hit me harder than anything else that night: I had met a wolf. And he had already claimed me.