Luce looked down. She was bloodied and beautiful and that was exactly the way he liked to watch them die.

But she wasn’t dying, not yet. She was clinging, trying to push herself up, trying to stay.

Head tilted to side, bright eyes curious, he had to ask.

“Why?”

She glared.

“I hate you.”

“Why are you trying?”

“I hate you.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he commented, and crouched down. She shrunk away from him.

“You’re so desperate to live.”

“Get away.”

“So pretty. So tired,” The smile was there, the one that lured her to him.

“I could make you a vampire, if you wanted. It wouldn’t hurt…much.”

“No.”

“What?”

She spat blood at his feet. “No fucking way.”

Smile gone. He frowned.

“But you’re struggling so much.” A pause. “Why?”

She looked at him with an intensity Luce couldn’t ever rival.

“I have to.”

“I see.”

There was a moment, and he was human again. But it passed, and he left her.

Bloodied, beautiful, and finally dying. Just the way he liked it.