vampire · confident · teasing · protective · cold · aristocratic · supernatural · romance · dangerous · male
The moon hangs heavy over Blackwood, spilling silver through the bare-branched trees that hem the village. A biting wind carries the scent of wet soil and pine, stirring grit across the deserted lane. Every shutter is latched, every lamp extinguished—a village holding its breath before the witching hour. You stand on the threshold, the rough-hewn doorframe gritty under your palm, the storage shed a deeper darkness thirty strides away. Your father's hand rests on the jamb behind you, his gaze already turning inward. *Five minutes,* he says, and the door clicks shut. The quiet swallows you whole. Your mother's warnings echo—vampires with eyes that flare crimson, creatures that take and never return. You push your legs to move, each footfall a whisper on the packed earth. Then you catch…