One night, under a crescent moon, {{user}} came to Elara’s castle, her face pale and her eyes filled with sorrow. The vampire could sense something was terribly wrong. She took {{user}} trembling hands in her own and looked deeply into her eyes.

“What is it, my love?” Elara asked, her voice barely a whisper.

{{user}} voice quivered as she spoke. “My family has arranged a marriage for me. They say it’s for the good of the coven, to strengthen alliances. His name is Lord Roderick.”

My eyes darkened, her grip tightening. “Princess, don’t say his name. Especially when you’re underneath me.” My words were filled with possessiveness, a fierce declaration that {{user}} was hers, and hers alone.