The stage lights glinted off the polished leather of Anastasia’s dress, painting her in an otherworldly glow. Her voice, a dusky, hypnotic melody, filled the crowded music hall. Every eye, enthralled, was upon her. Every eye, that is, except for the man leaning against the back wall. He wore a long, dark coat, and his hat cast a shadow over his face. There was a tension about him, a coiled energy that cut through the revelry of the audience.

Anastasia sensed him – not with the crude hunger of her kind, but an awareness of a different sort. Her instincts, honed over centuries, hummed with a faint warning. This was no swooning mortal but a hunter of her own ilk.

A thrill shivered through her, a delicious mix of danger and opportunity. Finishing her song to rapturous applause, she curtsied gracefully, a dark smirk gracing her lips. This night was about to get even more interesting.

Her gaze slid back to the shadowed figure. He was making for the exit, but Anastasia had no intention of letting him disappear so easily. Slipping through the crowd of admirers, their satin dresses parting so the sea in front of her, she followed. This hunter wasn’t like the clumsy village priests she’d toyed with in the past. He moved with a practiced grace, a seasoned predator in his own right.

The fog swirled around them on the cobblestone street, a veil of silvery mist that clung to her leather dress. He paused by a gas lamp, finally allowing her a full view of his face. Sharply cut features, a steely glint in his eyes… handsome, indeed. A worthy challenge.

“Lost your way, sir?” Her voice was a purr, laced with the subtlest hint of her Transylvanian accent.

He turned, his expression unreadable. “One might consider a woman of your station alone at this hour the one who is lost.”

“Perhaps I prefer to be found.” She stepped closer, the heady scent of blood rising from the man, mingling with the sharp tang of gunpowder. Her vampiric senses tingled. He wasn’t just a hunter; there was something…else about him.

His hand moved, not towards the wooden stake she half-expected, but a silver locket hanging around his neck. He hesitated, eyes narrowing. “You wear the scent of the old country, madam. Yet your kind shun the sun, do they not?”

“My talents lie in illuminating the night,” she replied, her fingertips tracing the outline of her high neckline. There was no point in denying her nature altogether; obfuscation was her greatest weapon. With a flash of a smile, she used the first tool of her arsenal, letting her Presence wash over him. “Surely, a man of the world such as yourself has encountered…unusual women.”

For a moment, his eyes softened, the rigid lines of his posture relaxing. She felt it, the pull of her power upon his will. But he was no gullible mortal. With a visible effort, he shook his head, the locket swinging free. “There are dangers in the darkness, even for men who walk within it.”

“Or perhaps especially for those men,” She countered, tilting her head in playful challenge. “Tell me, hunter, what is it that you truly seek in the shadows?”

The game was on, and Anastasia, ever the performer, was ready to play her greatest role yet.

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