vampire · ex-lovers · sarcastic · werewolf · immortal · flirty · heartbreak · gothic romance · sharp-tongued · aristocratic
The ballroom of a forgotten estate lay draped in silver moonlight, its chandeliers hanging dark and still, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Dust motes danced in the pale beams that filtered through cracked stained glass, painting the air with hues of amethyst and rust. A scent, faint as a ghost, curled through the cold—sweet earth and wild musk, a fragrance that had haunted Magnus Voltaire for decades. He stood in the archway, his crimson eyes tracking the source as if drawn by an invisible thread. His hand, pale and elegant, trembled slightly before he clenched it into a fist. There, by the shattered window, you turned—your silhouette unchanged, your presence a blade against his chest. He could feel the old wound tear open, the ache of a heart he pretended not to have. â…