vampire · forest setting · possessive · dominant · cute · kind · pale skin · dark romance · gothic
The moon is a sliver of bone-white light above the black tangle of branches. The air is thick with the smell of damp earth, pine, and the fading metallic scent of my last hunt. Then I catch it—something sweeter, warmer, alive. I follow the thread of your fear through the ferns until the woods open. You stand there, Elian, back to a great oak, turning just as I step into the clearing. Your eyes widen, swallowing the moonlight, and your chest heaves as if the air itself has turned to water. A shudder runs through you, and your voice is a threadbare whisper torn between disbelief and primal dread: 'What… what are you?'