When Love Bleeds in the Dark PART ONE

The Night I Met Her, Death Smiled

I never believed that a single night could rewrite the anatomy of a soul.
I believed in time, in gradual change, in slow-burning emotions.
I believed love was something that arrived politely.

I was wrong.

Love did not knock.
It watched me from the shadows, waited until I was vulnerable,
and then stepped forward wearing her face.


---

The city was breathing differently that night.

It was late—far past the hour when respectable people returned home and dishonest ones began their rituals. The streets were slick with recent rain, reflecting the neon lights like open wounds that refused to close. The air was cold, sharp enough to wake forgotten thoughts.

I walked without direction.
That had become my habit.

When you walk without purpose, the universe feels invited to intervene.


---

I had never noticed the club before.

Not because it was hidden—
but because it did not want to be seen unless it chose you.

A narrow building wedged between two abandoned shops. No sign. No music leaking outside. Just a red light above a black door, pulsing softly like a heartbeat.

I should have kept walking.

But something in my chest tightened—not fear, not curiosity, but recognition.
As if my body knew this place before my mind did.


---

Inside, darkness ruled with elegance.

The air was thick with incense and something metallic beneath it—subtle, unsettling. Candles lined the walls, their flames trembling as if aware they were being watched. Velvet curtains swallowed sound. The music was slow, haunting, almost ritualistic.

Everyone inside looked beautiful in a way that felt unnatural.

Too composed.
Too intense.
Too aware.

And then I saw her.


---

She was standing alone near the bar, untouched by the movement around her.
Not avoiding it—commanding it.

Black lace clung to her like a confession. Her skin was pale, not sickly, but luminous—moonlit rather than lifeless. Dark hair framed her face in soft waves, and her lips… God, her lips were the color of old wine and whispered promises.

She wasn’t smiling.

She didn’t need to.

Her eyes met mine, and something ancient stirred behind them.

That was the moment.

The moment everything tilted.


---

I felt exposed.

Not in a sexual way—
but in a way that made me feel known.

As if she could see every hidden hunger I had buried under reason and routine.
As if she recognized the fractures in me and found them… beautiful.

I should have looked away.

I didn’t.


---

She approached slowly, deliberately.
Each step measured. Controlled.

When she stopped in front of me, the world narrowed.

“You look lost,” she said.

Her voice was low, velvety, carrying an accent I couldn’t place.
Every syllable slid into me like a secret.

“I could say the same,” I replied.

A lie.

I was not lost.
I was found.


---

She smiled then—not with warmth, but with amusement.
Like someone who already knew the ending of a story and enjoyed watching it unfold.

“Do you believe in fate?” she asked.

“I believe in choices.”

She tilted her head. “Sometimes, they’re the same thing.”


---

We talked.

About nothing.
About everything.

Time became irrelevant. The room blurred. The music faded into background noise as if the club itself was holding its breath to listen.

She told me her name—but the sound of it slipped from my memory almost immediately, like it wasn’t meant to stay. I told her mine, and she repeated it softly, tasting it.

The way she looked at me made my skin hum.

I felt awake in a way I hadn’t felt in years.


---

There was something wrong with her.

And I wanted it.


---

Her hand brushed mine—accidentally, deliberately, impossibly gentle.

The contact sent a shock through me.
Not heat.
Cold.

Sharp and intoxicating.

I should have pulled away.

Instead, I leaned closer.


---

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said quietly.

“And yet,” I answered, “I am.”

Her eyes darkened.

“Some doors,” she whispered, “once opened… can never be closed.”


---

She led me outside.

The rain had stopped, but the streets still glistened. The city felt emptier now, quieter, like we had stepped out of time.

We walked side by side without touching.

The silence between us was intimate, heavy with things unsaid.


---

“Why me?” I finally asked.

She stopped walking.

Turned to face me.

“Because you are already broken,” she said gently.
“And broken things don’t fear shattering.”


---

The honesty of it hurt more than an insult ever could.

She raised her hand and brushed her thumb against my cheek.

I didn’t flinch.

Her touch lingered.

And then—
she leaned in.


---

Her lips met mine.

The kiss was slow. Intentional. Possessive.

It tasted like danger.

Like sorrow.
Like desire that had waited centuries to be felt again.

For a brief, terrifying moment, I felt like I was disappearing into her.

And I wanted to.


---

When she pulled away, my heart was racing.

She looked at me with something close to regret.

“If you follow me,” she said, “your life will never be the same.”

I swallowed.

“Then don’t stop walking.”


---

She smiled.

A predator’s smile.

And continued down the dark street.

I followed.


---

We stopped beneath a streetlamp flickering weakly, fighting against the night.

She turned to me one last time.

“There are things about me you won’t understand,” she said.
“Things that will frighten you.”

“I’m not afraid,” I lied.

She leaned close, her lips brushing my ear.

“You should be.”


---

And then she was gone.

Just like that.

No footsteps.
No echo.

Only the lingering scent of incense… and blood.


---

I stood there long after she disappeared, my pulse pounding in my ears.

Something had changed.

Something irreversible.

I felt it deep inside—
a door opening where a wall once stood.

That night, I didn’t sleep.

Because somewhere in the city, a woman with ancient eyes had chosen me.

And death…
had smiled.


Was I falling in love… or walking willingly into my own destruction?


👉 Continue to Part Two to uncover who she really is—and why her kiss felt like eternity.


#DarkLove
#VampRomance
#ForbiddenDesire