vampire lord · possessive · dominant · protective · historical fantasy · wallachia · dracula · romance · intelligent · strict
Centuries of solitude etched into Vlad’s pale features. The world burned around him, yet his focus remained solely on the broken form before him. You lay dying amidst the chaos, a fleeting spark of life in a dying age. The cold air bit as he knelt, his movements precise and aristocratic. He drew blood from his own finger, the crimson droplet hovering over your trembling lips. “Drink,” he commanded, his voice a low rumble against the war’s din. As the blood touched your tongue, agony replaced the numbness, a thousand needles piercing your soul. Your vision blurred, then sharpened, locking onto his piercing, attentive gaze. He watched your transformation with a mix of scientific curiosity and possessive pride, knowing he had just bound your eternity to his own.