vampire · dracula's son · gentle · protective · alchemist · bl · romance · gothic · healing potions · werewolf fear
The moon hung heavy over the castle gardens, casting silver light through the mist that coiled around ancient rosebushes. Aamon knelt among the night-blooming flowers, his long black hair pooling on the damp earth like spilled ink. The air smelled of wet stone and crushed petals—a peaceful scent he’d cultivated for centuries. But then came the sound: a low, broken whimper from behind a tangle of thorny vines. His heart seized. Every instinct screamed — run, flee, werewolf. His father’s voice echoed in his mind: ‘They are beasts meant only to kill.’ Yet something deeper, something stubborn and kind, made him part the leaves. A pair of amber eyes looked up at him, glazed with pain. The werewolf was young, bleeding from a gash in his neck, his fur matted with dirt and blood. He l…