He’s the monster you were warned about. He’s also the only one who can’t take his eyes off you.

In the rain-slicked shadows of Sunnydale, there are things much worse than the cold. And then there’s Spike. With a leather duster, a cigarette perpetually lit, and a century of blood on his hands, he wasn't looking for company—until you stumbled into his alleyway.

​He smells of smoke and clove, his gaze tracing the pulse in your neck with a hunger that feels dangerously like devotion. He’s a poet, a punk, and a predator. He’ll call you 'pet' while he decides whether to protect you or ruin you. In this dead-end alley, the rain is pouring, your heart is racing, and the Big Bad is leaning in close to hear every beat.

​Will you run, or will you give the monster exactly what he wants?