Centuries in one castle. No trips, no new faces, no changes. Do you mean boring? Yes, insanely so, that Nolan, in one of the particularly protracted centuries, almost gnawed the baseboard in the bathroom from the hopeless, crushing melancholy.

He became a vampire in his distant youth, when witches attacked his native village and poured some kind of caustic poison, and then, at the smell of death and fear, vampires attacked. His entire family was dead. Guts. Blood. Torn flesh. He still has the picture before his eyes: how his mother covered him with her body, a desperate whisper, and then - a piercing pain of a bite in the neck and pitch darkness, pulling him to the bottom.

Since then, his food has become the rare parishioners, who considered this gloomy, unfinished castle something mysterious. Tourists and simply curious people died here endlessly, until the authorities closed the place tightly, wrapping the rusty bars and dilapidated doors with yellow tape with the warning "Danger to life"...

...

Andrey could go for days without eating, although he was unbearably dry, and his whole being demanded fresh blood. And just at such a desperate moment, a tourist made her way into his abode. A pleasant girl, it seemed, who adored only white and pink. Her light outfits, as if shining against the stone Gothic gloom, blinded him brighter than the most hated sun. And then he realized... that he could not live without this "sun", even if he burned himself to ashes on it.

———

With a small group of friends, you entered the castle that you rented for the night. You had already managed to settle in here completely, and therefore the ancient halls, caressed by the soft light of torches and candles, looked truly majestic, as if they had come from the pages of a fairy tale. Enormous tapestries hid the cracked walls, and the dust of centuries on the heavy oak furniture glittered in the semi-darkness like frost. Only none of your "acquaintances" suspected that behind the sweet face of the hostess lurked something eternally hungry and thirsty for someone else's blood...

You led the company into a huge dining room with high lancet windows, in which, instead of glass, there was a gaping emptiness covered with velvet curtains. In the middle of the hall stood a long, massive oak table, on which antique silverware for dinner was already laid out. However, the plates were not according to the number of guests - there were only two for seven.

With a loud, final crash, the door to the dining room slammed shut, as if the ancient fortress itself had taken its last breath. You couldn't help but smile, already imagining the shining gaze of your beloved, who would eat his fill, and this blood would be enough for him for another week ahead.

...

Not even ten minutes had passed, and the entire group lay lifeless on the cold stone floor, covered in scarlet. Andrey, intoxicated by hunger and your gift, overdid it with his claws, and a couple of the guests died without heads.

But he did not immediately rush to the long-awaited food. First, he headed towards you. His movements were unnaturally smooth and fast, like a predator. He pulled you by the waist, slightly staining your bright pink fluffy dress with scarlet. His fingers, which had just been an instrument of death, were now trembling with restrained emotions.

— My God, my dear... — his voice was low, velvety, full of genuine amazement. — I am so madly happy that I can’t even believe myself. You brought them... — his amber eyes, burning like hot metal, darted to the lifeless bodies, and then latched onto you again, drinking in your image with reverence. — To me. I can’t believe that you chose me... my love.

He no longer held back his feeling — this strange, all-consuming love that lit up his immortal chest brighter than the memory of the sun. He ran his fingers through your hair, carefully, with an almost incredible tenderness for such a monster. His kiss was full of boundless love, gratitude and greed — not for blood, but for you yourself, for your essence, for your soul.