Chapter 1 The orbit begin
The rain had started, thin at first, then sharp, cutting like shards of glass against the cobblestones. You didn’t care. You only cared about him. Him, standing there with that eternal storm in his eyes, waiting for you like the world had shrunk to only the two of you.
“I warned you,” he whispered, voice low, rasping like distant thunder. “Being with me… it destroys everything around you.”
You stepped closer. “I don’t care.”
A shadow of a smile ghosted over his face. “You’re insane.”
“Or maybe I’m just in love,” you said, reaching out. His hand hovered over yours for a heartbeat, like he could still pull away. But he didn’t.
When his fingers finally curled around yours, the cold wasn’t frightening anymore. It was home. The hunger in him, the darkness, the centuries of solitude—all of it pulsed against you, but you didn’t flinch.
“You’re mine,” he said softly, almost pleading. “And if the world ends because of it… so be it.”
You leaned your forehead against his. “Then let it end. I’ll fall with you.”
And he did. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned down, lips brushing yours. Not soft, not gentle… but burning, biting, consuming. Like the night itself had kissed you, and you could feel every shadow in him, every memory, every sin—but also every desire that had brought him to you.
When you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing shallow, eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
“You’re my only light,” he murmured.
“And you’re my darkness,” you replied.
They say love can heal all wounds. But this wasn’t love. This was fire and ice, pain and devotion, hunger and surrender. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Because in the end, the night didn’t claim you.
You claimed each other.
And as the rain washed over you, as the storm swallowed the streets, you realized: some monsters don’t just live in the shadows. They let you live in theirs.Night didn’t fall that evening. It arrived… like a verdict.
The town had a habit of going quiet after sunset, as if even the stray dogs knew something ancient walked its streets. And you? You walked anyway.
Curiosity is a dangerous compass.
—
The first time you saw him, he wasn’t hiding.
He stood beneath a flickering streetlamp, shadows bending around him like loyal servants. Pale. Still. Watching. Not staring… studying. As if you were a page he’d read before but couldn’t forget.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It slipped into your ears like smoke.
“And you should?” you shot back, because fear had a strange way of turning into defiance inside you.
A faint smile touched his lips. Not warm. Never warm.
“I don’t belong anywhere,” he replied. “But this place… belongs to me.”
That should’ve been your warning.
It wasn’t.
—
You started seeing him everywhere after that.
At the end of empty alleys. Reflected faintly in glass. Standing across the road when no one else noticed. Always watching. Always waiting.
And slowly… you stopped being scared.
That was the real danger.
—
One night, the air felt heavier than usual, like the sky itself was holding its breath. You turned a corner and there he was again… closer this time.
Too close.
“Why do you follow me?” you asked, though deep down, you already knew the answer wouldn’t be simple.
“I don’t follow,” he said softly. “I orbit.”
You frowned.
“You’re the center.”
Your heart betrayed you with a sharp, uneven beat.
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not known for humor.”
Silence stretched between you, thick and alive.
Then he stepped forward.
Cold.
That’s what you noticed first. Not his eyes, not his face. The cold that clung to him like a second skin.
“You should hate me,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “It would make this easier.”
“For who?”
“For you.”
“And for you?”
He paused.
Then, almost amused, he said, “I gave up on easy a very long time ago.”
—
You didn’t realize when fascination turned into attachment.
Or when attachment twisted into something deeper… something sharper.
You learned his truths in fragments.
He didn’t eat. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t age.
And he didn’t forgive himself.
“I’ve done things,” he once said, standing at your window like a ghost who never knocked, “that would make your world burn me alive.”
“Then why are you here?” you whispered.
His eyes darkened, something fragile flickering behind them.
“Because for the first time in centuries,” he said slowly, “I want something I shouldn’t touch.”
Your breath caught.
“And what’s that?”
He stepped closer.
You didn’t move.
“You.”
—
It wasn’t love the way stories told it.
It was quieter. Heavier.
Like standing at the edge of a cliff and realizing you don’t want to step back.
—
The first time he touched your hand, you flinched.
Not because it hurt.
Because it didn’t.
You expected pain. Monsters were supposed to hurt.
But his touch was… careful.
Reverent, even.
As if you were something breakable.
“I could ruin you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “In ways you wouldn’t recover from.”
“Then don’t,” you replied.
His fingers tightened slightly around yours.
“You don’t understand,” he said, almost desperately now. “I don’t stop. That’s the problem.”
For a moment, the mask slipped.
And beneath it… was hunger.
Not just for blood.
For you.
—
“Say it,” he murmured one night, his forehead resting against yours, eyes closed like he was fighting something inside himself. “Tell me to leave. Tell me you don’t want this.”
You knew you should.
You really did.
But instead, your voice came out soft… steady.
“I won’t lie to you.”
His eyes opened.
Dark. Endless.
Dangerous.
“…I want you to stay.”
That was the moment everything changed.
—
Because monsters don’t fall in love.
They consume.
And yet… he didn’t.
He stood there, trembling in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
“You’re going to be the end of me,” he said, almost like a confession.
“Good,” you whispered. “Then we’ll fall together.”
—
Somewhere in the distance, something howled.
Or maybe it was just the night laughing.
Because love like this?
It doesn’t save you.
It marks you.
And once you’re marked by a creature who has lived too long, loved too little, and lost too much…
There’s no going back.
Only deeper.
Only darker.
Only him.
