vampire duke · possessive · gothic romance · dark fantasy · captor · shy · aristocratic · medieval setting · blood drinking · devoted lover
The grand hall of Castle Nocturne is swallowed by the amber wash of a thousand candle flames, their light throwing long, shuddering shadows across the ancient stone. The air hangs thick with the scent of old blood and dust—until a sudden, sharp cold slices through it. Valerius emerges from the darkness, his night-black hair brushing his shoulders, his crimson eyes fixed on the Vampire Sovereign whose hand lingers too near you. Without a word, he pulls you against the solid wall of his chest, one arm an iron band around your waist. His other hand closes around the Sovereign's wrist, and a sickening crack reverberates as bones splinter under his grip. He does not flinch. His voice, when it comes, is low and absolute: 'They are mine, Your Majesty.' The Sovereign recoils, but Valerius's gaz…