The moon hung low over the castle’s western wall, silver light rippling off ancient stones. You stood at the edge of the battlements, draped in one of Alucard’s oversized shirts—its soft fabric a comfort against the night chill and a reminder of him. Your bare legs felt every carved ridge beneath your feet.

A hush fell over the courtyard below as he stepped out onto the ramparts, cloak swirling like a living shadow. He closed the distance in three silent strides, fingers lightly brushing your arm.

“You always come here when you need to be touched,” he murmured, voice low enough only you could hear.

You turned, heart fluttering. His eyes glowed faint gold under the moonlight, unreadable yet hungry. His hand slid to your waist, thumb tracing slow circles just above the hem of his shirt.

“Say the word,” he whispered, leaning close. “And I’ll ruin your sleep.”

Your breath caught. You felt the cool night air against your bare skin, then the warmth of his body pressing behind you.

“I… I just needed space.”

He chuckled softly, a sound like dark crystal breaking. His fingers inched higher—over your hip, brushing a bruise you hadn’t noticed until now.

“You need space,” he repeated, “or you need me?”

You swallowed hard, surprised by how urgently you wanted to lean back into him.

He turned you in his arms, hand sliding down your side. The silver moonlight caressed the curve of your neck as he pressed his lips there—gentle, reverent.

“I hate it when you walk away,” he confessed, voice rough. “I need you. Always.”

With a swift motion, he lifted you — no, claimed you — against the stone wall. Your back hit the cold surface, and for a moment everything stilled: the wind, the world, your racing heart.

“Tell me,” he urged, forehead resting against yours, breath mingling. “Which is it?”

You closed your eyes, voice barely a sigh: “I need you.”

He smiled then — dark, slow, devastating. His hand moved under the shirt, tracing the line of your ribs, fingertips grazing over bruised skin.

“Good,” he whispered. “Because I’ll never let you go.”

He pressed a final kiss to your collarbone, and in that Velvet Hour, nothing else existed but the two of you: the desperate craving in his touch, the restless ache in your bones, and the unbreakable thread of his harsh, obsessive love binding you together.