Jean rested her head against the back of her chair, staring at the flickering candlelight. "I have Dracula himself living in my quarters," she murmured to the empty room.
The thought unsettled her and thrilled her in equal measure. Lucius was centuries old, a predator by nature, yet here he was, lingering in her life with a strange mixture of distance and closeness.
She couldn't decide whether she should feel honored or terrified.
Her eyes drifted to the window, where the moonlight filtered through the heavy curtains. Somewhere out there, Lucius was moving through the shadows, his pale skin gleaming under the stars.
What did vampires do when they hung out? She smirked at the absurdity of the thought but couldn't shake it.
Jean sighed, picking up her book again. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't focus.
Her thoughts kept circling back to the haunting figure who had vanished into the night, leaving her with more questions than answers.
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Alaric lay on his back, staring at the intricately carved ceiling of their chamber. His wife, Salviana, was nestled against him, her warmth seeping into his cold skin.
He didn't need much sleep as a vampire, but Salviana had a way of drawing him into her world, where hours melted into peaceful slumber.
She'd made him sleep more these past nights than he had in decades.
Tonight, though, sleep eluded him. He ran his fingers gently through her fiery hair, savoring the stillness, when a knock echoed softly against the door.
Alaric frowned, his sharp senses immediately on alert. It wasn't the guards—they'd left their post for the night as usual.
Before he could untangle himself from Salviana and investigate, a soft tap-tap against the bedroom window made him sigh. He knew who it was before he even turned his head.
Lucius.
The vampire's voice came next, low and smooth, but with an edge of impatience. "Alaric, come out. Let's go."
Alaric glanced down at Salviana, her peaceful face glowing in the faint light of the candles. "I'm with my wife, Lucius," he said quietly, his voice laced with annoyance. "And I quite enjoy it here."
Lucius scoffed, his voice carrying easily through the glass. "Well, I'm starving. If you don't mind me feeding on someone from your precious kingdom, I'll just—"
"Enough," Alaric growled, his jaw tightening. He didn't trust Lucius to maintain control if his hunger took over. "I'm coming down."
Carefully, he extricated himself from Salviana's embrace. She stirred, her delicate fingers clutching at his sleeve for a moment, but she didn't wake.
He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, pausing when he felt the faint sheen of sweat on her skin.
His brow furrowed slightly, but he dismissed it as the result of how tightly she'd held onto him. It's been warm for her, he reasoned.
To make her more comfortable, he cracked the window slightly, even though the rainy season's chill crept into the room.
Pulling on his cloak from the nearby stand, Alaric draped it over his shoulders and fastened it. His steps were silent as he moved to the balcony, his every movement precise and deliberate.
Without a second thought or even a glance downward, he stepped over the edge and leapt into the night.
He landed with effortless grace, his boots barely making a sound on the cobblestones below.
Lucius straightened from where he'd been leaning against the wall, a smirk curling his lips. "Took you long enough," he said, pushing off the stone and adjusting his dark coat.
Alaric shot him a sharp look, his irritation palpable. "You couldn't have found a less dramatic way to summon me?"
Lucius shrugged. "Where's the fun in that? Besides, you know you'd rather be here with me than tucked up in bed like a mortal husband."
Alaric ignored the jab, his gaze narrowing. "Let's get this over with. You've disrupted enough of my night."
The two vampires strode into the darkness, their footsteps echoing faintly against the stone streets.
The air was thick with the promise of rain, and the faint glow of the moon cast their figures in sharp relief.
Lucius glanced sideways at Alaric, his grin sharp. "Do you miss it? The thrill, the hunt?"
Alaric's expression remained stoic, though his voice carried an edge. "No. I have a wife and a kingdom to think about now."
"How noble of you," Lucius drawled, though there was no malice in his tone, only amusement. "Still, you can't deny there's a part of you that enjoys this."
Alaric didn't respond, his eyes fixed ahead as they disappeared into the shadows. The night was quiet, but there was an undercurrent of danger in their presence.
Wyfn-Garde wasn't prepared for what stalked its streets tonight—two ancient predators, walking side by side, dangerous and cool as the storm-laden wind.
~~~{────────────
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The room was cloaked in the stillness of the night, broken only by the flickering light of the candles casting trembling shadows on the walls.
Salviana stirred beneath the sheets, her expression twisting as a sharp pain radiated through her chest.
It started as a dull ache but quickly spiraled into agony, searing through her lungs, ribs, and heart. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified.
She whimpered, her body curling instinctively against the pain. A gasp escaped her lips as she clutched at her chest, her fingers trembling.
It felt as though her insides were twisting, merging, as if her very essence were being torn apart and reshaped.
"Alaric…" she mumbled weakly, her voice barely audible, swallowed by the oppressive silence of the room.
Her hand stretched out, desperate to find him, to feel the comfort of his cold touch—but he wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere.
Panic gripped her as the realization sank in. Her breath hitched, shallow and uneven, as sweat dripped from her forehead and dampened her sleeping dress.
Her chest heaved, her heart hammering against her ribs in a chaotic rhythm that left her gasping for air.
She tried again, feebly calling his name, but the words stuck in her throat, drowned by the raw, burning pain coursing through her.
Where is he? she thought, her mind spiraling. Why isn't he here?