Blood and Lace

There’s a stillness in the moments before dawn, a fragile silence that blankets the world as it lingers between night and day. The streets of Paris are always quietest at this hour, bathed in the soft glow of fading moonlight. I’ve always appreciated the subtlety of it, how the shadows dance on cobblestones, hiding secrets whispered long after midnight.

Even in the 1800s, when the world thrived on beauty and elegance, there was something timeless about this city. A place where the old and new collide, where stories of monsters drift from one generation to the next, growing with each telling. How little they know. They speak of beasts with fangs, of demons that lurk in the night. They are right, of course—though not in the way they imagine.

I am Lilith Vaelore, and I have been the monster in their tales for centuries.

Tonight, I glide through the crowded marketplace, my steps light and deliberate. The scent of freshly baked bread and roasted chestnuts fills the air, mingling with the perfume of the women who linger around the vendor stalls. I fit seamlessly into their world, my dark hair pinned up in a style that reflects the latest Parisian fashion, my gown a deep burgundy satin adorned with intricate black lace. I catch their eyes as I pass—some curious, some wary—but none of them truly know what I am.

That’s how it’s always been. I blend in, a part of their world while remaining apart from it. And I savor the control, the way they think they know me while I hold all the power. I am a master of deception, and in this game, no one can match me.

I’ve lived a thousand lives, played countless roles. But I chose Lilith long ago, and it suits me. There is power in a name, and mine carries the weight of myth. I am timeless, unbreakable—a queen among mortals, though they will never know it.

As I walk, I can feel the pulse of life around me. Each heartbeat is like a distant drum, beckoning me closer. But I’ve never been one for mindless feeding. No, I crave more than just blood. I crave control, the intoxicating feeling of watching someone unravel under my touch, under my influence. There’s an art to it, one I’ve perfected over centuries.

My latest quarry is a man of influence. Alexandre Deschamps. A nobleman, wealthy, respected, and utterly corrupt. His estate on the outskirts of the city is known for its lavish parties, where the rich and powerful indulge their darkest desires. I’ve been circling him for weeks, allowing our paths to cross in the grand ballrooms and opulent salons where he holds court. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s mine.

Tonight, he’ll offer me his heart, his soul, though he won’t realize what he’s given until it’s far too late. Men like Alexandre are easy to seduce, their arrogance a shield that blinds them to the danger right in front of them.

The evening air is cool as I approach his estate. I slip through the grand gates, the guards none the wiser to my presence. The party is already in full swing, the sound of music and laughter spilling out into the night. I enter the ballroom, my gaze sweeping over the crowd with practiced ease. Women draped in silk and pearls, men in finely tailored suits, their faces masks of elegance and intrigue. But none of them matter. Not tonight.

There he is, standing near the marble fireplace, a glass of wine in hand as he entertains a small crowd of admirers. Alexandre. His dark hair is slicked back, his sharp features softened by the candlelight. He looks every bit the part of the wealthy nobleman, but beneath that polished exterior, I see the rot. The greed, the cruelty that he hides behind his charming smile. It’s what makes him so deliciously easy to manipulate.

I glide toward him, my movements deliberate, each step calculated to draw his attention. And it works. His eyes find me in the crowd, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps. He’s intrigued, though he doesn’t yet realize why. I offer him a slow, knowing smile as I approach, and he excuses himself from the group, his gaze never leaving mine.

“Lilith,” he says, his voice a low murmur as I stop in front of him. “You look... breathtaking.”

I tilt my head slightly, letting the candlelight catch the curve of my neck. “You flatter me, Alexandre,” I reply, my voice smooth and lilting. “Though I suspect you say that to all the women who cross your path.”

He chuckles softly, his gaze lingering on me. “Not like this,” he says. “Not with you.”

The game begins.

I allow him to lead me away from the crowd, out onto the balcony where the night air is cool and still. Below us, the gardens stretch out in a maze of hedges and marble statues, the moon casting long shadows across the ground. It’s beautiful, in a way. Tranquil.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Alexandre says, turning to face me. “I’ve seen you at several of my gatherings, yet you always slip away before we can speak. Why is that?”

I smile, a slow, deliberate thing. “Perhaps I was waiting for the right moment.”

“And is this the moment?” he asks, stepping closer, his voice laced with amusement.

I let him come closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from him, hear the steady beat of his heart. I could end it now, take him before he even realized what had happened. But that would be too easy. No, I want him to fall, to beg for what comes next.

“I think it might be,” I murmur, my voice soft, hypnotic.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing against my arm. It’s a light touch, but it carries the weight of expectation. He thinks he’s in control, thinks this is his game. But I can already see the shift in his eyes, the moment he begins to fall under my spell. It’s almost too easy.

“Lilith,” he breathes, his voice low, almost reverent.

I step closer, letting my hand rest lightly on his chest. “Do you trust me, Alexandre?”

He hesitates, just for a moment, and I can see the flicker of doubt in his eyes. But then he nods, his gaze fixed on mine. “I do.”

“Good,” I whisper, leaning in until my lips are just inches from his neck. “Because trust is everything.”

His pulse quickens beneath my touch, and I can feel the power shift, the moment he surrenders to me completely. He’s mine now, body and soul. He just doesn’t know it yet.

I lean in closer, my lips brushing against his ear. “Do you want to know a secret, Alexandre?”

He swallows hard, nodding, his breath shallow. “Yes.”

I smile, my fangs elongating just enough for him to glimpse them in the moonlight. His eyes widen, the realization hitting him all at once, but it’s too late. My hand is on his throat, my grip tightening just enough to hold him in place, to remind him who holds the power here.

“The truth is, Alexandre,” I whisper, my voice low and dangerous, “you’ve never been in control.”

Before he can react, I strike. My fangs sink into his neck, the taste of his blood rich and heady as it floods my senses. He gasps, his body going rigid in my arms, but I hold him firmly, drinking deeply, savoring the moment. There’s something intoxicating about the way they fall, the way their strength drains from them as they realize they’ve lost.

I don’t kill him, not yet. No, I leave just enough for him to survive, to wake with the memory of this night etched into his mind. He’ll never be the same after this, never be able to look at the world without wondering what else lurks in the shadows.

I step back, wiping a drop of blood from my lips as I watch him sink to the ground, weak and trembling. His eyes are wide, his breath shallow, and I can see the fear in his gaze.

“You’ll remember this,” I say softly, my voice carrying in the stillness of the night. “And you’ll remember me.”

With that, I turn and leave him there, disappearing into the night as the first light of dawn begins to creep over the horizon. I’ve played my game, and I’ve won, just as I always do.

I am Lilith Vaelore, and in a world of mortals, I remain untouchable.