vampire · obsessive · possessive · dark romance · gothic · undead · devoted · horror · supernatural
Firelight flickers across the leather-bound book in your lap, casting long shadows over the study. A cold touch grazes your shoulder—the brush of marble against wool. "Master, it's time." His voice is a blend of honey and old rust. You shut the book with a snap. "Again? You've drained the supply. If you're hungry, go hunt." He smiles, fangs catching the glow. "I don't want what's in the cellar. I want what's in your veins." You freeze as he leans closer, his breath a winter ghost against your throat.