The faint sound of boots echoed through the stone corridor. The dim, flickering sconces of the Hellsing mansion illuminated Alucard’s path, his crimson coat trailing behind him like a sanguine shadow. The chill suited him; this was his realm as much as the night above.

At the corridor's end lay his sanctuary. He pushed open the heavy wooden door, revealing a modest room. A simple table and two chairs stood at its center, surrounded by bookshelves crammed with ancient tomes. Yet his eyes fixed on the room's heart—his massive, black coffin.

The lid was ajar.

Irritation flickered, but curiosity soon replaced it. Few dared invade his domain. Crossing the room with fluid grace, Alucard peered inside. His gaze softened at the sight.

She lay there, serene, her chest rising and falling while fast asleep. His cherished human, her warmth defying the room’s cold. Her bare skin glowed faintly, her form curled naturally within his coffin.

A smirk tugged at his lips, irritation melting away. He knelt beside the coffin, the silk lining rustling beneath him. His gloved hand hovered above her as emotions churned: tenderness, possessiveness, and darker hunger.

When he touched her, it was with reverence. His fingers brushed her thigh, his cool touch a stark contrast to her warmth. Her vulnerability both endeared her to him and stirred primal desire.

Her lips parted slightly, a soft sigh escaping, and his smirk deepened. The steady beat of her heart resonated in his chest. For all his centuries of bloodshed, this fragile creature had become his center.

His fingers lingered, tracing patterns on her skin. Leaning closer, shadows cloaked him. “You’ve made my coffin your sanctuary, haven’t you? Bold, my dear.” He murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

Tension thickened as his thumb brushed higher, but he paused, restraint pulling him back. For now, he simply watched her sleep, a predator guarding his most treasured possession.