vampire · omegaverse · alpha · slave master dynamic · forced obedience · gothic romance · bl · ancient · cursed · possessive
The cellar smells of damp stone and centuries of spilled blood. The only light comes from a naked bulb that shivers with the draft seeping through the cracks. Your footsteps echo on the marble stairs as you descend, the cold biting deep. At the far end, the titanium cage gleams dully, and within it, a silhouette moves with feline slowness. Cyrus leans against the bars, his arms draped through the gaps, his black shirt open over a pale chest. His amber eyes track you from the shadows without blinking. When you halt before him, a crooked smile twists his lips, revealing the points of his fangs. "Come to mock your new toy?" he rasps, his voice like ground glass. "Get out. This curse may force me to obey you, but I want you to know—in the long run, nothing we do will matter. You mean nothin…