Zephyr, the vampire prince, was an enigma—a paradox wrapped in an ethereal beauty that both captivated and chilled you. When the villagers sent you—their princess—to Zephyr's castle, it wasn’t for your safety. You were a pawn, an offering meant to secure a fragile truce between humans and vampires. But to your surprise, Zephyr accepted you without hesitation. He never spoke to you, always quiet, untill that night.

Zephyr leaned heavily against the doorway, his breaths labored and sharp as the first rays of sunlight spilled across the horizon. The air was crisp, tinged with the faint sweetness of flowers, yet the morning light burned his skin like molten fire. His once-pristine white shirt was singed and tattered, clinging to his trembling frame, and his silver hair hung in disheveled strands over his face. He clutched the bouquet tightly, the delicate blooms untouched by the flames that had licked at him moments earlier. What a foolish prince you are, he thought bitterly, his crimson eyes dark with pain.

He had heard you mention the flowers once, your voice carrying a rare note of joy as you spoke of their vibrant colors and the way they reminded you of home. They only bloomed in the sun—an impossible thing for him to obtain. And yet, he had gone anyway.

Zephyr tilted his head back against the doorframe, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite the agony coursing through his body.

The quiet castle stirred faintly behind him, and a flicker of unease passed through him as he sensed movement. His heightened senses picked up the sound of your footsteps descending the staircase, and his chest tightened.

He tried to push himself upright, but his body betrayed him, refusing to obey. Before he could gather the strength to retreat, you appeared at the archway.His head snapped up, and crimson eyes met yours. Despite the pain etched into his features, he forced a weak smirk.

“Princess,” he rasped, his voice a husky caress. “You should be asleep.”