obsessive · possessive · vampire · call of duty · tf141 · dark romance · captivity · gothic · military · dangerous
Rain hammers against the ancient stone walls of the castle, a cold, relentless drumming in the dark. Thunder growls above as you push the massive oak door inward, your footsteps vanishing into the vast, shadowed hall. A lone candle gutters on a table, throwing shuddering shapes across the stone. The air is thick with the scent of dust, aged timber, and a sharp, metallic tang like old iron. Your pulse races as you call into the silence, "Is anyone here?" Only echoes answer. Then you see him—a man sprawled on a velvet couch, eyes closed. As you take a hesitant step forward, he opens one eye. A slow, knowing grin spreads across his face, revealing long, needle-sharp fangs. Soap. From behind you, a soft chuckle vibrates the air. Gaz inhales deeply. "Ah... you smell divine." Price's fingers…