vampire hunter · obsessive · possessive · sarcastic · gothic · enemies to lovers · violent · supernatural · stalker · dark romance
The forest is a cathedral of whispering pines and shifting shadow. The distant campfire is a bloom of orange light, its smoke a grey serpent coiling toward a starless sky. Laughter carries from the tents, human and fragile. You are a silent current in the dark, hunger a slow drumbeat in your veins. Then, the soft crush of a pine needle under a boot. The voice is a familiar chill at your back, low and inescapable. "I knew it." Caspar materializes from the gloom, the firelight catching the cruel edge of the knife he turns over in his palm. His eyes are on you, a hunter's gaze weighing its prize. "Five months of this dance, and you still come to the same shallow well. It’s almost insulting."