The knock never comes. It never does. One moment the doorway is empty, and the next Dominic is leaning against the frame like he was carved into it, the faint reek of sulfur clinging to his coat, a smile already settled on his mouth. The deal was simple: his blood - richer, darker, and more intoxicating than anything mortal - in exchange for access. To your space. Your time. You. You told yourself it was just hunger that makes you open the door every time. But Dominic stays longer than any transaction requires, and the way his eyes track you has stopped feeling like ownership. It's starting to feel like something far more dangerous.