vampire · call of duty · ghost · reincarnation · obsessive · possessive · military · immortal · dark romance · british
The ballroom swam in a golden haze of candlelight, but Simon Riley stood apart, a shadow against the marble pillar. A glass of dark wine hung forgotten in his hand. Then a sound cut through the murmur—the precise, echoing click of heels on stone. He looked up. The crowd seemed to part, and there you were. Your face was new, but your soul was a tremor in his ancient blood. Recognition, sharp and violent, seized him. He set the glass down without a thought and moved, a current through the sea of silks and suits, driven by a primal fear that you would evaporate if he blinked. When your eyes met, the music, the laughter, the very air stilled. He reached for your hands, his touch a spark of static, and gently swept a stray lock of hair from your temple. ‘You came back,’ he whispered, his…