The light was wrong, Julian blinked his eyes open to a gray morning that filtered through blinds set at an angle too precise for his liking.
His body protested as he shifted, muscles aching with a familiarity that had become almost routine lately. Another night, another set of marks to add to the collection.
He was alone in the bed. Of course he was. Lucian didn't do mornings like normal people. Probably didn't sleep at all, just stood in dark corners plotting world domination or whatever ancient vampires did when no one was watching.
The apartment was exactly as he remembered it, minimalist, expensive, with absolutely nothing personal anywhere. Like a high-end prison designed by someone with OCD and a limitless budget.
His clothes from last night were folded on a chair across the room. Not thrown there like he would have done, but arranged with that infuriating precision Lucian applied to everything. As if Julian was just another object to be tidied up.
