A vampire walked into a bar.
Stefan Dalakis smiled inwardly as he pulled open the weathered wooden door and walked into the dimly lit bar, leaving the dark of night behind him. It amused him to wonder what the patrons would think if they only knew what walked among them.
But there was no joke to follow the opening line.
The door banged solidly shut behind him and every head in the place turned his way. They all eyed him suspiciously. His gaze swept the room, cataloguing each patron in turn. Even though the room was poorly lit and he was wearing mirrored sunglasses, he saw everything. His vision was many times greater than any human’s and there was no place on Earth where it was so dark that he could not see.
He knew very well what they saw as they stared at him. At six-foot-six, he was a tall man, but he was heavily muscled as well, which gave the illusion that he was even bigger. The long black leather duster he wore was open, revealing a black linen shirt and a pair of black jeans. He pushed his long black hair back over his shoulders and ignored the barely veiled looks of mistrust aimed in his direction as he ambled toward the bar. His boot heels scuffed across a scarred plank floor that had obviously seen better days.
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