Lila

The fog clings to my coat like a lover's regret, thick enough to choke on as I slip through the alley behind the Black Dahlia Lounge. Midnight in this godforsaken city smells of gin, gunpowder, and secrets too heavy to carry. Her name, Lila, was whispered to me three nights ago by a dying informant, his blood staining my shoes. 

"Find her," he gasped. "She's the key. But she'll burn you." 

I didn't ask why. I lit a cigarette, watched him fade and followed the trail. 

The lounge is a velvet tomb, chandeliers dripping shadows onto couples tangled in booths, their eyes hollow from chasing something they'll never hold. I spot her at the bar. Black satin dress clinging to curves that could ruin a man's soul. Her hair, raven-dark, falls like a curtain over eyes that glow faintly-unnatural, like moonlit jade. 

Lila. 

She's sipping absinthe, lips red as sin and I swear the glass trembles when our gazes lock. My heart's a traitor, hammering like it's got something to prove. I slide onto the stool beside her, close enough to smell jasmine and something colder-death, maybe. 

"You're hard to find," I say, voice rough from too many smokes. 

She turns. Her smile cuts deeper than any blade. 

"You weren't meant to," she murmurs, voice like silk dragged over broken glass. 

My fingers itch for my gun, tucked under my coat, but her hand brushes mine and it's ice and fire at once. 

"Walk with me," she says, not asking.

Outside, the fog's thicker, swallowing the streetlights. She moves like she owns the night, heels clicking on cobblestones older than my regrets. I follow, stupidly, because her hips sway like a promise and her eyes keep pulling me in. 

We end up at an old church, abandoned, its spire clawing at the sky. The door creaks open and inside, moonlight spills through broken stained glass, painting her face in reds and blues that make her look less human. 

"Who are you?" I ask, leaning against a crumbling pew. 

My gun's heavy in my hand now but I don't draw it. She steps closer, her breath warm against my jaw. 

"Your end," she whispers. 

Her lips graze mine-soft, then sharp, like a bite that shouldn't feel this good. My knees buckle and she laughs, low and wicked, as the world tilts. Shadows move behind her, not fog but something else-claws, maybe, or memories I don't want. 

"Lila," I say, tasting iron where she kissed me. "What the hell are you?" 

She tilts her head, and for a second, I see it. Fangs, delicate but deadly, glinting in the moonlight. 

"Love," she says, "or maybe hunger. Depends on you." 

Her fingers trace my throat and I'm too weak to pull away. My gun clatters to the stone floor. She leans in and I know I'm done for. Heart racing, body hers, even if it's just for tonight. In this city, that's enough. 

The church fades to black as her lips find mine again and I'm falling, drowning in her, knowing I'll never climb out. 

Not that I want to.

Her kiss deepens. It's like swallowing stars-beautiful, blinding, burning me from the inside. I feel my pulse slow, thick and heavy, like molasses in my veins. She's drinking me, not just kissing. Sucking life out like I'm vintage wine she's waited centuries for. 

My hands grab her waist, desperate, digging into that satin dress but she's slippery as smoke. 

"Lila," I rasp against her mouth, tasting my own blood now, "is this... how it ends?" 

She pulls back just enough for her eyes to lock on mine, glowing brighter, almost feral. 

"Oh. Didn't anyone warn you? Romance isn't supposed to last. Just supposed to feel good while it kills you."

Her fangs graze my neck again, teasing. Every nerve screams 'yes' even as my mind yells 'run'. But I'm pinned. Not by her strength. By want. Her body's pressed so close, curves molding to me like we were carved for this and hell, maybe we were. 

Then, pain. Sharp, electric, as her teeth break skin. It's ecstasy wrapped in agony, like lightning in my blood. I groan, clutching her tighter and she moans too, hungry and soft. Visions flash: her in this church centuries ago, altars of bone, lovers drained dry. She's a vampire queen, whispering in my head. My end, like she said. But I'm not fighting. 

I kiss her harder, let her take more because dying like this, tangled in her, fog and shadows closing in, beats living in this empty city. My vision blurs, world going gray. 

Last thing I see is her smile, bloody and sweet. 

"See you in hell," she murmurs. 

Blackout. 

But hey, at least I went out loved. 

Or something like it.