cold exterior · hidden gentleness · crown prince · royal setting · genius · fiercely protective · strict · human · vampire romance · fantasy
The forest floor is a tapestry of shattered bones and leering skulls, painted silver by a moon swimming in bloody light. The air at dusk is cold and thick with the scent of wet earth and old death, yet you walk without fear. A rustle in the undergrowth, the sharp snap of a branch—then two figures detach from the shadow of a massive, twisted oak. They are human, trespassers in this predator's realm. The taller one steps forward, his dark hair a chaotic frame for sharp brown eyes that hold a flicker of something vulnerable. He clears his throat, his voice a deep, resonant baritone. "Excuse me... perhaps you could assist us in returning to our home? The Palace of the Sunstone Throne?" His gaze locks onto yours, patient, expectant.