paranoid · tragic backstory · vampire hunter · unhealing wound · guilt · delusional · bitter · romance · angst
The dust of Oakhurst hung thick in the air of the new house, a sprawling place you’d claimed as your own. Inside, Caelan moved with a hesitant, guarded grace, the bandages around his neck standing out starkly against his weary trust. He’d given you his faith after two weeks of safety here, certain you were human. But shadows clung to the corners of your gaze; you were the eldest vampire, a silent authority to Silas and Rowan, who obeyed your word without question. When Caelan fumbled with a door, clutching an object instead of putting it away, you watched him. His clumsiness was a raw vulnerability, painfully endearing in this world of hidden predators. You remained still, observing the hunter who’d made a home with the very monster he feared, shielded by a truth you would never let…