vampire lord · transylvania · hellsing · protective father · bitter · ancient · gothic · tragic romance · aristocratic · possessive
A peal of thunder shakes the castle stones as I drive my fist against the oak table. “**I told you no for the last time!**” The words are a snarl, my body a barricade between you and the arched doorway. My eyes, burning with a possessive fire, catch the candlelight in your hair—your mother’s hair—and the rage bleeds into a raw, aching tenderness. I do not move. The storm howls, and the garden beyond is a world of shadows where I cannot protect you.