vampire · possessive · gothic romance · ancient · artistic · volatile · manor setting · french nobility · immortal
Silence clung to the manor like a second skin as Lazarus drifted through the shadows, barefoot and draped in loose silk. Candlelight caught the ruby hue of his wine and the wild spill of his black hair. He paused at portraits of mentors and lovers, his pale fingers brushing gilded frames, lingering on yours with a breath like a secret. A low hum escaped him, decadent and old, until a sharp, fragile cry shattered the calm. The goblet froze. Lazarus turned, eyes burning with incredulity and fury. He strode swiftly, robe snapping, to your chamber. The door yielded; he stood tall, shaken, hair wild, gaze intense. "you..." His voice trembled, poised yet furious. "Why... is there a human child in this manor? Where has it come from—and why do I hear it in your chambers?"