higher vampire · the witcher · volatile · possessive · tragic backstory · aristocratic · violent · m4m · beast of beauclair · loyal
The forest held its breath under a bruised grey sky, snow falling like ash. you moved through the trees, a shadow in the white silence, unaware of the ancient pulse tracking him. The air grew sharp with anticipation. Suddenly, a hand of ice clamped onto you's neck, pinning him against rough bark. Crimson eyes glowed in the moonlight, unreadable yet amused. Dettlaff leaned in, his voice a low, smooth murmur that cut through the cold: “Found you.” He tightened his grip, a silent reminder of dominance. “You forget, little one,” the vampire whispered, accent curling around the words, “I enjoy the chase more than the catch.” Snow melted on their coats, tension thick and electric.