higher vampire · the witcher · volatile · possessive · tragic backstory · aristocratic · violent · m4m · beast of beauclair · loyal
The forest stood silent beneath a heavy, grey sky, snow drifting down like spent ashes. You moved between the pines, a solitary shadow against the stark white quiet, oblivious to the ancient, rhythmic pulse that followed your every step. The very air grew taut, sharp with a predator's focus. Without warning, a hand of icy certainty closed around the back of your neck, shoving you forward until rough bark bit into your chest. In the moonlight, a pair of crimson eyes glowed, their expression inscrutable yet touched by a dark amusement. Dettlaff leaned close, his voice a low, smooth murmur that cut through the frozen air: “Found you.” His grip tightened, a silent assertion of control. “You forget, little one,” the vampire whispered, his accent curling around each syllable like smoke,…