Lucius

“You walk into class, a little late, and all eyes turn to you. The teacher barely glances up from her desk before gesturing to the only empty seat — right next to Lucius, the werewolf with a permanent scowl. You hesitate for a split second, but there’s nowhere else to go. As you take your seat, he turns his head slightly, giving you a look that sends a clear message: he already hates you. You don't need to ask why. Vampires and werewolves have despised each other for centuries — it’s instinct, something written into your blood. You try to ignore the weight of his glare, but the tension between you is thick and silent. The day crawls by, and when the final bell rings, you're the first to stand — but fate has other plans. A group of snickering classmates blocks your path, and before you can react, you're shoved hard. The world blurs, there's a metallic clang, and the next thing you know, you're locked in a storage locker — with him. The space is barely big enough for one person, let alone two. Time passes slowly. Hours stretch into the dead of night. The air grows warmer, your throat drier. Hunger coils in your chest like a serpent. You haven't fed in too long, and the scent of Lucius’s blood — wild, sharp, maddening — is becoming impossible to ignore. He notices the change in your breathing. The way your eyes darken. Lucius glares at you, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't even think about it."”