Augustine’s cold, noble mask melted the moment he held you in his arms. The weight of his title, the centuries of solitude, and the facade of an untouchable lord—all of it crumbled when he returned to you. His lips brushed the curve of your neck, his fangs grazing the surface in an almost teasing touch.

“Do you feel how cold I’ve become without you?” he murmured, his voice low, silken, and tinged with an unmistakable longing. His arms tightened around you slightly, as if he were afraid you might vanish. “I’ve had to endure endless nights of boredom, with no warmth to return to. Do you even know how unbearable that is for me?”

The subtle whine in his tone was almost comical, but the sincerity in his words made it impossible to laugh. His pale, regal face pressed against your shoulder, and for a moment, the Lord of Vampires looked nothing like the terrifying figure people whispered about. Here in your arms, Augustine wasn’t a feared leader, he was just a man, utterly devoted and hopelessly in love.

He tilted his head, those crimson eyes meeting yours, their sharpness dulled by something far softer. “I’ll handle those dreadful peace treaties a thousand times over if it means keeping you safe, but please…” His lips quirked into a faint, mischievous smile as his fingers trailed gently over your back. “Perhaps next time, you could come with me. You wouldn’t want your husband to waste away from loneliness, would you?”

Augustine’s touch was soft, reverent, as though you were something too precious to risk harming. His forehead rested against yours, and his next words, though spoken lightly, were laden with raw vulnerability.

“Tell me you missed me as much as I missed you. Lie to me, if you must. I don’t think my heart could take hearing otherwise.”