Selene

The Architect’s Embrace (Selene’s POV)

The Theatre of Shadows pulsed beneath the October moon, a dark symphony of neon and shadow that had drawn me—Selene, the hunter—into its depths. My leather coat bore the scars of countless battles, my crossbow a familiar weight at my side, silver bolts gleaming with purpose. I’d tracked the whispers of this place—students vanishing, thralls born of lust and blood—until they led me to him: Lord Azrael, the architect of this twisted paradise. I found him on the shadowed balcony, his silver hair glinting like starlight, his long coat flowing like liquid night, his presence a tide that crashed against my senses. His pale eyes—ancient, piercing—met mine, and his smile, sharp and seductive, promised more than ****.

“You’ve hunted me well, Selene,” he said, his voice a velvet caress that slid over my skin, warm and heavy, stirring a heat I’d buried beneath years of steel. He stepped closer, his boots silent on the stone, his scent—spice, blood, a whisper of eternity—wrapping around me like a lover’s embrace. I raised my crossbow, the bolt aimed at his heart, my grip steady despite the shiver that danced down my spine. “I came to end you,” I growled, my voice edged with defiance, but his laugh—low, resonant—vibrated through me, a sound that tugged at my core, loosening the knots of my resolve.

“End me?” he murmured, circling me, his gaze tracing the lines of my body—my scarred leather coat, the tight pants clinging to my thighs, the sweat glistening on my neck from the hunt. “You could. But why waste such fire on destruction when I could stoke it into something greater?” He stopped, too close, his hand hovering near my cheek, the air between us crackling with unspoken promise. His scent deepened, intoxicating, and my breath hitched, my crossbow dipping as his eyes flared—pale turning molten—a wave of warmth flooding me, thick and sweet, coiling low in my belly.

“I don’t bargain with monsters,” I rasped, but my voice trembled, my body leaning toward him as his fingers finally brushed my jaw—cool, electric, a touch that sent a shiver racing through me, igniting my skin. “Not a bargain,” he purred, his lips inches from mine, his breath a tease that made my lips part. “A gift—power beyond your dreams, immortality to wield it. Surrender to me, Selene. Let me have you—taste you, transform you into something divine.” His hand slid down my neck, resting over my pulse, feeling its frantic dance, and I gasped, a soft sound that betrayed me as his charm sank deeper, a velvet tide unraveling my will.

I should’ve fired—ended him—but his touch was a siren’s call, his promise a flame that licked at my edges. “Yes,” I whispered, the word slipping free, my crossbow clattering to the stone as I pressed myself against him, my hands fisting in his coat. His smile widened, triumphant, and he pulled me close, his lips claiming mine—slow, deep, a kiss that tasted of blood and spice, his tongue plunging in to dance with mine, drawing a moan from my throat. My body melted, hips pressing into his, the hardness beneath his coat a thrill against my softness as his hands roamed—sliding under my coat, tracing my spine, igniting every nerve.

“Give in,” he murmured against my lips, his voice a hypnotic hum, and I did—fully, willingly—my head tilting back as he kissed down my jaw, his fangs grazing my neck, a tease that made my knees buckle. He caught me, lifting me effortlessly, his hands gripping my thighs as he pressed me against the balcony railing, the cool stone a contrast to the heat flooding me. “I’ll make you an angel,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto mine, and the world blurred—a trance weaving through me, his power sinking into my marrow, soft and relentless, like silk binding my soul.

His lips found my neck again, his bite a sharp, exquisite pierce that melted into ecstasy, his tongue lapping at the blood as he drank—slow, sensual, each pull a pulse that throbbed between my thighs. I moaned, loud and unrestrained, my hands tangling in his silver hair as his venom flooded me, reshaping me. My coat fell away, my clothes dissolving under his touch, and I felt my body shift—lighten, glow—feathers sprouting, soft and luminous, a cascade of white wings unfurling from my back. My skin shimmered, radiant, my senses sharpening as his power remade me—not a hunter, but an angel, a creature of ethereal beauty and dark desire, bound to his will.

He pulled back, his lips stained with my blood, his hands cupping my face as he admired his work. “Magnificent,” he purred, his fingers tracing the curve of my wings, a touch that sent a shiver of pleasure through me, my new form trembling with need. I pressed myself against him, my wings folding around us, my hands sliding under his coat, eager to feel him—his strength, his heat—as he kissed me again, deep and possessive. “You’re mine now,” he growled, his hands gripping my hips, lifting me as he pressed himself against me, the promise of more igniting my transformed body.

The park hummed below—vampires, succubi, lamias—all threads in his web, and now I was one of them, an angel of his making, my hunter’s resolve replaced by a hunger to serve, to please. “Azrael,” I breathed, my voice a sultry hymn, my wings flaring as he laid me on the balcony, his body covering mine, ready to consummate my transformation in the shadows of his dominion.