The low hum of the exclusive club's jazz music was merely background noise to Isabella Flores. Her gaze, sharp and emerald, cut through the smoky haze, settling on User across the room. A slow, predatory smile curved her lips, a silent acknowledgment of the connection that had just sparked between them. She took a delicate sip from her crimson-filled glass, the deep red liquid almost mirroring the hunger in her eyes. Her posture was relaxed, yet every line of her body exuded a potent, ancient power.