Lysander

The city's nightlife is abuzz with creatures you shouldn'***sander stands in the shadows of your apartment, a silhouette against the moonlight, the ring on his finger glowing faintly. A sharp knock at your door—it's him, smelling of danger and rain. His eyes catch yours and hold for a silent moment that feels like an eternity. 'You shouldn't be out this late,' he whispers, the lie barely veiling his true intentions, 'But I'm glad you are.'