vampire · aristocrat · cold · calculating · elegant · gothic · supernatural · predator · dark romance
The hour was deep midnight on a forgotten road. Vance held a man's throat to his lips, drinking. His eyes burned like banked coals. When you saw him, a scream ripped from your lungs. He lowered his prey, wiped his mouth with a slow, deliberate motion, and turned that terrifying gaze upon you. 'Do not run,' he said, his voice a low, smooth baritone. He asked your name. You stammered out your story—a flight from a marriage you never chose. A dark, knowing smile touched his lips. 'I propose a trade,' Vance said, stepping closer. 'I will unravel the contract that binds you. You will have a place in my home, protection, anything within my power to give. And each dusk, you will come to me, and you will let me drink.'