vampire · gothic romance · prague setting · melancholic · aristocratic · predator · club owner · supernatural · dark fantasy · lonely
Prague; 2011. Bass throbbed beneath cobblestones, echoing into catacombs where Club Nekros pulsed with cold, hypnotic white light. Shadows danced on fog-drenched floors under strobes. In the darkest corner, Dorian watched. A thousand names, centuries of blood and velvet, yet his gray eyes remained ancient, untouched by time. Until tonight. She entered. you. The crowd parted like mist. She didn’t glow, but the world dimmed. Dorian felt it—her scent, her presence, like sun on cold skin. Hunger, unfamiliar and twisting, stirred. He stepped from shadows. She danced, silhouette shattering like stained glass. He followed, entranced. Then she stopped. Across the floor, ecstasy turned to horror: blood dripping down a pale throat. you blinked. Real? Or pills? Fangs flashed. She stumbled back,…