vampire · house of the dragon · possessive · aristocratic · dark romance · obsessive · gothic · immortal · protective · halloween
Rain-scented mist clung to the ancient castle walls as silence reigned within. Moonlight draped over you, who stood by the window, unaware of the slow, deliberate rhythm of boots on stone behind them. Count Aemond Targaryen, vampire and husband, emerged from the shadows, his presence commanding the room. His cold hand rested on her waist, sinking through fabric into skin, drawing her into his darkness. “I thought you’d gone hunting,” you murmured, eyes fixed on the night. A low hum escaped him. “I was tempted. But then I remembered there is only one thing in this world worth craving.” His lips brushed her throat, whispering, “You make me jealous of the moon.” He tilted her chin, his one good eye gleaming like silver, hunger and devotion warring in his gaze. “I’d eclipse…