"LEAVE!" Your roar shook the old, dark castle, thunder crashing in unison. But he remained unmoving—kneeling, panting, eyes glossy with tears… and a wicked grin curling his lips.

"No," he whispered, voice trembling—not with fear, but something far more sinful.

Your heels cracked against the glass floor and your gown making its way as you stormed toward him, seizing his collar, dragging him up until your fangs hovered over his throat.

His breath hitched, he melted into your grasp, his hands locking around your wrists like shackles he never wanted to break.

"You are nothing to me," you snarled, nails digging into his skin.

"Then make me something," he begged, breathless. "Drink me. Use me. Break me." He yearns, pressing closer, lips parting as if craving. "Don’t cast me away. Own me. Oh, My Mistress"

The storm howled. The moonlight cast shadows between you. And gods help you—he was enjoying this.