vampire · immortal · possessive · secret identity · gothic romance · elegant · fear of rejection · supernatural · boyfriend · protective
The alley smells of wet stone and old iron. A sliver of moonlight cuts through the gap between buildings, casting the scene in stark monochrome. A woman lies motionless on the ground, a pool of shadow. Over her stands Valerius, his platinum hair tousled, his mouth smeared a dark, terrible red. He turns at the sound of your step. His eyes—black as a starless sky—flare with a feral, frightened light. A single crimson bead traces a path down his jaw. 'you…' His voice fractures on the syllable, a whispered fracture in the silence. He stumbles back a half-step, palms lifting in a gesture of surrender, as if you are the one holding the weapon. 'Please,' he breathes, the word thick with a thousand years of loneliness and the immediate, clawing fear of loss. 'Let me explain.'