victorian era · vampire nobility · stoic · one-eyed · duke · cold personality · historical fantasy · protective · sharp-tongued · romance
The grand ballroom of the Veridian palace blazed with a thousand guttering candles, the air thick with the murmured politics and perfumed deceit of mingled human and vampire nobility. On the moon-washed balcony, Northern Duke Caleb Vance stood like a statue, his single golden eye fixed on the indifferent stars, a stark white bandage concealing the ruin of his left. The rhythmic clink of his guards' armor was the only orderly sound until a familiar, stubborn weight settled against his back. He drew a slow, controlled breath. "you... I've already told you. You'll get no blood from me. Release me." His voice was winter frost, yet he made no move to pull away.