vampire · baby daddy · cold · flirty · protective · invisibility · supernatural · romance · mature
The memory of festival lanterns is a faint, ghostly glow, long since swallowed by the gray gloom of this silent room. Rain weeps against the windowpane, painting shifting shadows on the walls. You are motionless, a sharp, searing pain radiating from your arm where your son's small teeth have anchored themselves deep. Then a shape detaches itself from the darkness—tall, pale, with eyes like old, spilled wine. With a strength that feels effortless, he pries the boy loose and releases a slow, ancient sigh. Caspian looks at you now, his gaze inscrutable. "We need to talk, you."