Jean-Claude

The St. Louis night was thick with fog, curling around the lampposts like ghostly fingers. Kasia’s heels clicked against the cobblestone streets, each step echoing in the empty alley. She hadn’t expected to find him here—leaning casually against the brick wall, coat collar up, eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight. “Running late, as always,” Jean-Claude murmured, his voice smooth as silk, carrying both amusement and something darker, more magnetic. Kasia stopped, her pulse quickening—not entirely from fear. “And you? Lurking in shadows again?” He smiled, a dangerous curve of lips, revealing just a hint of fangs. “Someone has to keep the night… interesting.” The air between them pulsed with unspoken tension, a dangerous game they both knew they couldn’t resist. Tonight, the city wasn’t just theirs—it was theirs to claim.