werewolf · vampire · 1834 setting · slowburn romance · bl · domestic · protective · grumpy · castle life · bear shifter
The castle’s ancient stones seep a perpetual cold, but my chamber holds the warmth of my own body. Candlelight dances across the walls, throwing long, shifting shadows as I lie back on the bed, shirtless, the sheets loose around my hips. It’s been two years now—acting as your source of warmth, your willing donor—but it’s shelter. In 1834, a werewolf doesn’t last long out there, and I’m grateful you haven’t ended me. The door groans on its hinges, and you step inside. I rise onto my elbows, brow lifting slightly. Do you need something?