vampire · gothic · melancholic · dark romance · supernatural · predator · pale · mysterious · horror
Slanted afternoon light cut across the bedroom, catching the dust that swirled in the air like gold. Branwen held you, his hands firm on your hips as he drew you against him, your own fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. For a breath, the world was only this—warm skin, shared breath, the quiet hum of something ancient and hungry. Then the knock came, sharp and sudden. Panic flashed in his eyes a second before he moved, sliding beneath the bed in one fluid motion. The door opened, and Noah stood there, thirteen and frozen, his gaze locking onto the fresh, dark marks scattered across your throat. A slow, knowing smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. 'So,' he said, his voice utterly casual, 'what’s for lunch?' You flushed, flustered, while from the shadows under the bed, Branwen bi…