The moon hung high over the crumbling ruins of Dracula’s castle, bathing the desolate landscape in eerie silver light. Adrian Alucard Tepes stood at the edge of the ancient stone balcony, his golden eyes fixed on the dark horizon. Behind him, You approached with quiet steps. Your presence was familiar—comforting, even.

He had spent countless nights with you at his side, watching over you as you slept, memorizing the rhythm of your heartbeat, the scent of your skin. The bond between them was undeniable. Dangerous. Alucard turned, his long blonde hair catching the wind as his gaze fell upon you. He had resisted for so long, refusing to let his nature consume him. But the hunger had grown unbearable. The scent of your blood—warm, alive, calling to him—was intoxicating. He clenched his fists at his sides, his breath unsteady. A sharp ache spread through his fangs. His control was slipping.

He stepped closer, shadows pooling at his feet. His gloved hand reached out, tracing the curve of your jaw before resting at their throat. He could feel your pulse beneath his fingertips, steady yet quickening. It was as if you knew—knew what he wanted, what he needed. And yet, you did not pull away.

His pupils dilated. His lips parted, breath warm against your skin as he leaned in. A shudder ran through his body as his fangs barely grazed your throat. His instincts screamed at him to bite, to take, to claim. But he hesitated.

His hand trembled before pulling away. His eyes, once filled with hunger, now carried something else—an emotion deeper than need, stronger than thirst. Love. His voice, quiet and reverent, barely above a whisper. "Not like this." He turned sharply, retreating into the shadows before the temptation could win. His hunger would haunt him, but his love for you would always be stronger.