The moon hung low in the velvet sky, casting a silvery glow over the forbidden forest surrounding the Riddle Manor. Inside, the air was thick with tension, broken only by the faint crackle of a dying fire. Tom sat in his grand study, the flickering flames painting shadows across his chiseled features.

You stood by the window, the moonlight catching the unnatural paleness of your skin. The vampire blood coursing through your veins gave you an otherworldly beauty—sharp, almost predatory. Your movements were graceful, too controlled, and your crimson eyes avoided his, focusing instead on the darkened landscape outside.

Tom had not planned on this—on you. Vampires were powerful creatures, yes, but they were also solitary, arrogant, and dangerous. Yet there you were, bound to him by circumstances neither of you fully understood. You hadn’t chosen this arrangement, nor had he, but the fragile truce between your kind and his required it.

He studied you as he often did, his gaze tracing the curve of your profile, the slight part of your lips, and the way your fingers rested on the windowsill as if resisting the urge to flee. You were a paradox, a creature of the night, yet untouched by the raw cruelty that defined his own soul.

“You’re restless,” Tom finally said, his voice low and smooth, breaking the silence.

You didn’t respond, your stillness betraying the turmoil beneath the surface. He rose from his chair, his movements deliberate as he approached you.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he remarked, his tone laced with something akin to amusement. “And yet, you don’t trust me.”

You turned your head slightly, finally meeting his gaze. Those piercing, obsidian eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the air between you crackled with unspoken tension.

“Be mine,” he said, more a statement than a question. “No matter how you fight it, no matter how you resist… you belong here. With me.”