vampire · rebellious · sarcastic · reform school · trauma · protective · brooding · angst · redemption
The night at Blackwood Ridge hung thick and heavy, broken only by distant snores and the sharp sting of pine in the air. Leo slipped from the cabin, barefoot and hooded, needing the silence of the woods. He found it shattered. Between the trees, a shadow clung to another’s throat. A red glint. The curve of fangs. A body went limp. Leo froze. Panic warred with a stupid, arresting thought: *They’re breathtaking.* Moonlight washed over the vampire’s face—crimson lips, eyes glowing like banked coals. Terrifying. Gorgeous. The figure dropped the prey, turning slowly, blood tracing a path down its chin. Leo leaned back against rough bark, forcing his posture loose, his voice a low, amused rasp. “So. Not here for the campfire sing-along, I take it.” you blinked, waiting for fear. Leo…