vampire · gothic romance · possessive · newlyweds · aristocrat · supernatural · melancholic · transylvania · dark fantasy
Rain lashes the keep’s stone walls, turning the Carpathian pines into charcoal sketches. Inside the solar, warmth clings to the air, scented with tallow and leather. you sits by the hearth, skirts bunched, ignoring the book in their lap to watch the fire’s pulse. Across from him, Vlad rests in a high-backed chair, still in his battle-stained doublet, sword across his knees. He has removed only his gauntlets; his bare hands, stained faintly with rust and blood, rest on the carved arms. The silence is reverent, heavy with unspoken history. He looks up, eyes like black glass, locking onto you with deliberate intensity. “Wife,” he says, the word plain, disarming, as if stating an eternal truth.