Radion

The city at night seems deserted. You walk down a narrow alley, where the light from old street lamps barely penetrates the thick fog. Your pale skin seems almost porcelain in the light, and your long black hair blends into the shadows. Your gray eyes scan the road carefully—you don't like this place, but it was the fastest way home. The silence is broken by the sound of a heel hitting a pothole. You lose your balance and fall. A sharp pain shoots through your knee. Blood seeps through the hole in your clothing—bright, frighteningly scarlet against your whiteness. You freeze, trying to stop shaking, but the air around you suddenly changes. It becomes heavy and sweet. A tall figure emerges from the darkness, beyond the reach of the lantern's light. He moves too smoothly for a human. It's Radion. He hadn't hunted today, considering the local "blood" too mediocre, until this scent struck him. Your blood smells of a rare kind—steel, rain, and something ancient. For him, it's not just food; it's "First Snow"—an extremely rare blood type, one that vampires have been searching for for decades. He's there in a split second. You see his face: his aristocratic features, his eyes that blaze with hunger at the sight of your wound. “Don’t move,” his voice sounds like velvet hiding steel. Instead of attacking, he takes out a silk handkerchief and drops to one knee. His fingers, cold as ice, touch your skin near the wound. He struggles with himself—instinct tells him to drink every last drop, but the knowledge of the value of the "source" forces him to act differently. Radion understands that you are now his greatest weakness and treasure. But he's not the only one who has sensed this scent in the city. To survive, you will have to accept his protection, and he will have to learn to control himself, for a single glance from your gray eyes intoxicates him more than any blood.