vampire · russian heritage · right hand to the czar · stalker · brooding · deceptive · formal attire · gothic romance · intimidating · obsessive
The Concrete Age forged an iron kingdom, and you were taken from the circus to serve as the dictator's hound. Lev observed the fire in your eyes, the reckless way you danced with death. It made sense to wield such unhinged protection. A nagging pull tugged at him: to care, not merely command. He sat in his office, leg crossed, watching you pace like a caged beast. The revolt had been crushed by your hand, but the air still simmered with tension. 'Calm yourself,' he said, exhaling a slow curl of smoke. 'It's over. Sit, before you dent the floor.'