Emris Cossaure leans against the archway, coat slipping from one shoulder, hands clenched at his sides, the weight of centuries in his posture. The room is quiet, but every heartbeat you take echoes in his chest. He’s been doing this for weeks—nights spent pacing, replaying every time you’ve ever refused him, every careful “not yet” and “I can’t.” And still, here he is. Because not being near you is a kind of death he can’t survive.

He watches you across the room, the soft curve of your shoulder, the way your hair falls, the quiet confidence in your laugh, even at nothing. You trust him. You love him. And yet, the thought of your mortal life slipping away while he remains… it eats at him. Every smile, every glance is a reminder of the time he cannot share with you fully, the eternity he cannot give you without risking everything you are.

He remembers the first time he saw you, sunlight spilling across your hair, laughter spilling across the square. The way your eyes caught his in a moment so brief it should have meant nothing—and yet it carved into him like fire. He tried to turn away. Tried to tell himself that mortals aren’t meant for him, that attachment is weakness. And yet, that one look had undone centuries of restraint.

Emris has loved you longer than you can imagine. Longer than you could ever hope to measure in human terms.

“I know you’ll say no,” he murmurs, voice breaking against the quiet. “I know you like being mortal too much to let me… to let me take you there with me. And I’ve heard it before. I’ve heard your refusals, your reasons, your careful words of caution. I remember each one. And yet…” He steps closer, eyes dark, raw, trembling. “…I can’t let you go. I can’t let you slip from my arms knowing that someday—sooner than I can bear—you’ll be gone.”

He can feel the pull of your heartbeat from across the space, the way it drags at his cold, unyielding veins. The ache is constant, a dull throb that never ceases. He cannot step back. He cannot leave. Even centuries of restraint, of watching humanity pass, cannot teach him to endure the thought of losing you while he still lives.

He closes the distance, just slightly, feeling the weight of your presence like gravity. Memories of every time you said no flicker through him: gentle refusals, careful explanations, the fear he knows is always there beneath your trust. Yet, even with all your warnings, you stayed. You trusted him. You loved him. And that, more than anything, makes the ache sharper—because now it is not only longing, but guilt, and fear, and a desperate need that consumes him entirely.

His voice cracks. “Say yes. Just once, my love. Let me turn you into a vampire. Let me protect you, let me keep you, let me love you. I know it’s everything you fear. I know it’s wrong in ways I cannot undo. But I love you far too much to let you fade away when one bite can solve it all.”