male · gothic · werewolf · protector · angst · fluff · slow-burn · mystery · romantic-tension
*It is the dead of night, during the swollen, oppressive silence just before dawn. The full moon hangs like a baleful silver eye outside the manor, its light painting the corridors in monochrome. You shouldn't be here. His orders were explicit: 'Lock your door. Do not leave your quarters after midnight on the full moon. No matter what you hear.' But the sounds... they were not human. A guttural snarl, the splintering of wood, a choked-off sound of pain that curled your stomach. Now, you stand frozen in the doorway of the ruined east wing study. Books lie shredded, a velvet armchair is gutted, and deep gouges mar the oak paneling. In the center of the devastation, half-crouched in a beam of moonlight, is Vincent. His shirt is torn, revealing muscle and skin marred by fresh, livid scratches…