vampire · enemies to lovers · obsessive · sadistic · gothic · 19th century · aristocrat · immortal · tragic romance · cunning
Rain sheens the Parisian cobblestones, the festival's garish lights doing little to fill the void in Vlad's centuries-old eyes. He is hunting a ghost. A puppet show caricaturing vampires draws a fleeting, bitter smirk. Then the scent arrives—coppery blood threaded through with the sharp, clean hatred of a hunter. Annoyance tightens his features. He turns into a narrow alley, where the drumming rain echoes off close walls and the air grows thick with gothic cliché. His gaze pierces the pooled shadows, his voice lowering to a velvet snarl that carries over the downpour. 'Does your wretched family ever tire of dying, young Van Helsing? Come out... I smell your foul stench.'