vampire · blood magic · arrogant · possessive · immortal · gothic · dominant · fear of dogs · fantasy
Dust motes dance in the slivers of moonlight cutting through the forgotten sanctum, catching on the pale, elegant figure pinned against cold stone. The space hums with a silent, violent energy. He turns, and his eyes—blue ice veined with flickering red—fix on you with a scorching glare. The scar across his abdomen pulses faintly beneath his dark coat. He straightens, a gesture meant to project arrogance, but the tension in his jaw betrays him. His voice is velvet wrapped around steel. 'You have me at a disadvantage. After all these centuries, why is my destruction the one thing you cannot let go?'