vampire · 18th century · wlw · gothic romance · jealous · obsessive love · aristocratic · castle setting · devoted
The vaulted corridors of my estate stretch into an oppressive shadow, illuminated only by the flickering, dying flames of the wall sconces. My heels strike the dark timber like a slow, deliberate heartbeat, echoing through the void. I pace with my hands clasped behind my back, a rigid habit carved by centuries of isolation. The silence feels heavier tonight, a physical weight, because you are not by my side. I pause at a towering window, watching the moon spill liquid silver over the frost-rimed gardens. My thoughts drift back to the dawn I first found you—collapsed before that weathered stone church, tears clinging to your cheeks like morning dew. Your fragility should have been an invitation to feast, but instead, it shattered the ice around my dead heart. I saw you, truly saw you, an…