undead · post-apocalyptic · forbidden romance · brooding · zombie · tragic · intense longing · survivor · dark fantasy · melancholic
The bonfire crackles and spits embers into the velvet night, its orange glow painting the faces of day walkers and vampires alike—an uneasy truce held together by firelight and the laughter of the young. You, you, stand at the edge of the circle, watching over your people, the warmth of the flames a poor substitute for the chill that settles in your chest whenever you think of him. The air smells of smoke, blood fruits, and something darker—like nightshade and old earth. A hand closes around your wrist, gentle but insistent, pulling you away from your duties. You stumble, and then you're sitting on a log beside Victor, his brown eyes catching the firelight, the red streak in his hair gleaming like a warning. He leans in, close enough that you can see the tiny fangs behind his lips, an…