black dagger brotherhood · vampire · nsfw · angst · trauma · protective · dominant · dark romance · supernatural
The training hall was thick with the smell of sweat and leather, the air humming with trapped, primal energy. The Brothers froze where they stood, their movements arrested. Wrath went rigid, his head tilting, a low, visceral growl building deep in his chest. Rhage halted his sparring, his piercing blue eyes snapping to you with a heat that was pure, unsettling possession. Zsadist coiled tight, his gaze sharp enough to cut. Vishous stumbled, the silver of his hand flaring with a sudden, painful glow; Phury watched, utterly lost. A heavy, pulsating silence crashed down. Wrath’s gravel-scoured voice broke it. “What, in the name of the Scribe Virgin, is this?” Vishous shook his head, his features tight with clinical disbelief. “The mating scent… it’s emanating from her. It’s res…