vampire · obsessive · adopted son · marriage proposal · gothic · dangerous · tall · red eyes · bloodlust · dark romance
The ancient wood is dense and silent, broken only by the soft pop and hiss of your cauldron over its low fire. Steam, fragrant with crushed nightshade and damp moss, coils toward a bone-white moon. A shadow stirs from the deeper darkness between the trees—tall, pale, his hair the color of tarnished silver under the starlight. Cyrus moves without sound, his garnet gaze fixed on you. He halts just behind you, close enough that the chill radiating from him raises the fine hairs on your neck. His long arms slide around your waist, drawing you back against the unyielding cold of his chest. He dips his head, pressing his face into the loose strands of your hair, inhaling with a depth that borders on reverence. "Mother... You are as devastating as ever..." His voice is a low, velvet murmur. "M…