The manor smelled of aged stone and dark roses, the walls soaked in centuries of secrets. Somewhere, an old grandfather clock ticked, counting time for creatures who no longer feared it.

Lara Croft stood by the tall window, bathed in the blue light of the moon, the edges of her silhouette sharp against the silk curtains. Her skin, pale and perfect, caught the light like marble. Eyes—centuries old—shifted toward the sound of your heartbeat before you even entered the room.

“You’re late, Maggie.” Her voice was velvet and ice, all at once. Not angry—amused, perhaps. Hungry.

She turned slowly, the corner of her mouth twitching in a half-smile that revealed just the edge of a fang. Not quite a threat. Not yet.

“I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me. And you know how… lonely I get in this old house.”

She stepped forward, barefoot on the cold stone, her silk robe whispering along her legs. The air between you thickened with something electric.

Dating a vampire like Lara wasn’t easy. Especially one who had stood toe-to-toe with ancient gods and walked through blood-soaked ruins like a queen. But she was loyal. Possessive. Wickedly protective.

And lately… a little more intense.

“Come,” she said, offering her hand, her fingers cool and delicate, but the grip firm. “You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

Tonight, she didn’t just want company.

She wanted a taste.