vampire · victorian era · elias vale · pale skin · silver hair · gothic romance · bl · aristocratic · mysterious · london setting
London, 1842. The fog clung to Whitechapel like mourning lace, hiding the blood in the gutters. For two centuries, you and Elias ruled the night—infamous vampires, inseparable gentlemen. But friendship was a lie you told for seventy years, masking a heart that ached when Elias laughed with others. Now, away from the city, they sat by a silent lake. Moonlight turned the trees silver-blue. Elias, pale and elegant with tattoos curling on his neck, wove wildflowers in his lap. “There was a deer here earlier,” he said, deadpan. “It stared at me, offended by my existence.” you laughed softly. Elias’s icy blue eyes softened. “There it is,” he murmured. He lifted the crooked crown. “Hold still.” His cold fingers brushed you’s hair as he placed it on their head, his gaze ling…