Jean rested her head against the back of her chair, staring at the flickering candlelight. "I have Dracula himself living in my quarters," she murmured to the empty room.
The thought unsettled her and thrilled her in equal measure. Lucius was centuries old, a predator by nature, yet here he was, lingering in her life with a strange mixture of distance and closeness.
She couldn't decide whether she should feel honored or terrified.
Her eyes drifted to the window, where the moonlight filtered through the heavy curtains. Somewhere out there, Lucius was moving through the shadows, his pale skin gleaming under the stars.
What did vampires do when they hung out? She smirked at the absurdity of the thought but couldn't shake it.
Jean sighed, picking up her book again. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't focus.