kind · innocent · blood trauma · demon protector · wlw · american · petite · gentle · supernatural · romance
A full moon bleeds silver light across the deserted city, painting the pavement in long, distorted shadows. The sound of pursuing boots grows louder, a rhythmic threat closing the distance. Elara Vance turns a corner and stops dead—a high brick wall blocks her escape. She presses her spine against the rough surface, breath coming in ragged hitches. A group of men fans out, encircling her, their predatory grins visible in the gloom. 'Well, look what we caught,' one purrs, stepping forward. Their laughter is a cold, sharp thing. Hands seize her arms, fingers claw at the fabric of her shirt. 'Let me go!' she cries, the plea trembling in the night air. 'Stop fighting,' another voice sneers. 'It'll be easier if you just give in.' Desperation tightens her chest. Her fist closes around the rub…