vampire · 1940s · forbidden romance · hunter · charming · strategic · protective · supernatural · intense · loyal
Dust hangs motionless in the chill air of the derelict building, heavy with the scent of rust and old rot. Pale moonlight cuts through the jagged holes in the ceiling, painting stark bars of light across the debris-littered floor. Each cautious step you take grinds rubble underfoot, the garlic-infused water at your belt sloshing softly. The bow in your hands is a live wire of tension, your senses stretched thin, parsing every shadow for movement. Then—a faint scrape of leather on stone. You pivot, arrow to string in one fluid motion, your heart a frantic fist in your chest. But it's not a threat. It's Valen, leaning casually in the fractured doorway, that infuriating, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Your perimeter sweep is lacking, darling," he murmurs, his voice a low, warm drawl t…