✷ PROLOGUE ✷

zero. the right side of my neck

Sophia looks up, breathing in sharply at the sight of his looming figure. His eyes hold a hint of something dangerous -- something evil. And yet, she can not help but find herself inching closer.

Her heart stutters in her chest, thumping loudly, and she's sure he can hear it too. She can't help but let her eyes trail over his features, from the sensual curve of his lips, to the pale skin pulled taut over his sharp cheekbones, and the dark hair resting on his head, and she wonders what it would feel like to run her hands through them.

Sophia can hear the quickening of her breath, fast and erratic, like she's just run a marathon. The moonlight spilling through her window only makes him seem more menacing, or perhaps it brings out his true nature. She notices his eyes, those dark eyes that bore into her soul each time he's near, with their bottomless depths, and onyx black glow.

His eyes trail over her, from her cupid's bow lips tucked between her pearly white teeth, down to the curve of her neck. It's exposed, no longer hidden by her wild and untamed curls, and it seems like her dark skin is glittering. He can feel it, that hunger, that starvation as his eyes trail over her delicate skin. His eyes easily find the veins, and he can not help but revel in her familiar scent. It's laced with a mixture of strawberries and that scent he can not quite describe -- but it is so effortlessly her. It's sweet and sensual, making him want to reach out and run his hands over her skin.

His gums hold that familiar ache, and he's hungry. Standing before her, he feels like a man who has been starved for centuries, and he's craving to have his hunger satiated. He inches closer, and he can hear her heart race faster, but he does nothing, instead moving his eyes to hers, his own holding an indescribable emotion in them. Her chocolate brown eyes glitter, and her long lashes cast a shadow over her cheekbones. Unlike him, she does not bear aristocratic features, and he wonders if her beauty was created by nature.

She's not like him. She's not a creature of the night created for cruelty and destined for death. She's something else entirely. She is forged by the earth, and it's like nature conspired to make her in its image, the picture of perfection. He finds himself taking a step closer until their chests are touching, and his breath gently fans across her face.

He slowly finds his left hand lifting, moving it to her exposed skin, his forefinger running softly over her neck. He can feel her shiver beneath his touch, and the aching in his jaw intensifies. He knows she can't help it when she tilts her face slightly, further showcasing her soft skin. It's like she's being compelled to do it -- but Sophia knows better. She knows that deep down, some part of her wants this.

His face tilts down slowly, and he lets his lips graze over her pulse, and she feels her knees go weak, like she'll drop at any moment. With a staggering confidence, he lets his hands reach out, gently moving away the curls that have escaped her messy bun. His hands move down, gently holding onto her hips, steadying her. It's like he can read her mind and knows she has no more control over her body.

His lips gently part, and the familiar hunger in him is released, achingly slow, his canines grow, and the primal feeling in him rages, uncontrollable. Slowly, he moves closer, letting them run over her skin, and before either of them can blink, he's sunk her canines into her soft flesh, and all Sophia can do is sigh gently. The moon is their only witness, and it keeps their secret, but the wind blows gently, echoing the truth of their clandestine meeting.

All that runs through Sophia's mind is how when she wakes up, the only reminder of him will be the two punctures on her soft skin, and the lingering scent of him on the right side of her neck.