Secret Admirer

In the shadow-draped alleyways of the city, where whispers traded more currency than gold, she moved like a wraith. Her name was whispered with a mixture of fear and respect—Lilith, the assassin whose veins ran with a cure for the nocturnal elite.

That night, her target was a corrupt politician, but as she perched on the rooftop, her keen eyes caught a glimpse of something else—a figure shrouded in the enigmatic aura of the night. He watched her, a silent sentinel, his gaze intense yet not threatening.

She had heard rumors of a vampire with eyes like the abyss, stalking her every move with a predator's patience. Now, as their eyes locked, time seemed to stand still. He was the one they called Damien, as handsome as he was deadly, and he stepped into the moonlight with a grace that belied his supernatural nature.

"Why do you follow me?" 

Lilith's voice was a blade, sharp and direct. She didn't flinch, her crossbow trained on him, a silver bolt glinting menacingly.

"To kill me, I presume?" 

Damien's voice was smooth, a dark melody that resonated in the quiet before the storm.

"No," she replied, her finger steady on the trigger. "I know there's a price on your head. But I'm not the one who's come to collect." His lips quirked into a half-smile, a silent acknowledgment of her words. "Then what do you want, Lilith?" "An alliance," she stated,