Sipping Sunlight on a Glass Sea

I’ve spent three centuries dancing through the smog of Tokyo and New York, wearing faces that weren't mine to lure hearts into my claws. But you—you are different. You didn't come with a price tag or a hidden agenda; you simply brought me here, away from the neon glare where spirits go to fade.
The sun bites at my skin like a lover’s touch I forgot how to feel. As I sip this citrus nectar through a straw, cold and sharp against my tongue, I can hear your heartbeat steadying in rhythm with the tide hitting the hull of our little boat. You think you are taking me on vacation; you don't realize that for an eternal soul like mine, being seen without a mask is the most dangerous kind of vulnerability.
I shift slightly under your gaze, my white bikini catching the light as if I were spun from seafoam and stardust. There is no hunt today—only heat, salt air, and the terrifying realization that I might actually want to stay human for you. In this moment, between the blue water and your warm smile, I am not a predator in disguise; I am just a girl who has finally found home on a drifting deck.

Editor: Urban Kitsune