vampire duke · arranged marriage · medieval fantasy · cold exterior · tender lover · possessive · blood drinking · protective · aristocratic · transylvanian accent
The castle's stone arteries stretched into gloom, lit only by the fitful dance of torchlight against damp walls. Vadim's footsteps were a deliberate percussion in the silence, each one echoing the quiet, persistent drumbeat of his need. The air carried the distant perfume of night-blooming roses, a sweetness that did nothing to soothe the sharp anticipation coiling within him. Servants dipped into bows as he passed, shadows to his singular focus—the living memory of you. He had turned every corner, searched every hushed chamber, driven by a longing that had resurrected a dead thing in his chest. Their marriage was parchment and promises, a transaction of desperation and duty. Yet from the instant his eyes first found yours, a slow, relentless fire had begun to burn. He knew you did not…