Cyrus lay still, his pulse pounding in his ears. The revelation hung in the air, thick and suffocating.Mate.The word clawed at his mind, refusing to let go. He could still feel the warmth of Raphael’s body against his, the scent of him still lingering in his senses like a drug he hadn’t realized he was addicted to. Across from him, Raphael sat up, his face contorted with a mix of emotions—disbelief, irritation, and something darker, something Cyrus wasn’t sure he could name.“Mate?” Raphael echoed, his voice sharp with disbelief. His pale chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. “You’re lying.”Cyrus shook his head slowly, his green eyes still wide with shock. “I wish I was.”Raphael stared at him, his gaze flickering over Cyrus’ face, searching for a lie, for any sign of deception. But there was none. And that terrified him. He suddenly let out a harsh laugh, though there was no humor in it. “You expect me to believe that we're soulmates? Do not insult me with this nonsense.Cyrus,
The night air was thick with the scent of rain and damp earth. The distant hooting of owls echoed through the camp, but inside the tent, it was eerily silent—except for the sound of two men breathing.Cyrus lay still, his eyes fixed on the ceiling of his tent. His mind should have been occupied with battle strategies or the looming tension between their races, but all he could think about was the man lying beside him.Raphael, the Vampire Prince of Blackthorne.Raphael’s back was to him, his bare skin illuminated by the flickering lantern. His silver hair, slightly disheveled, fell over the pillow. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breath told Cyrus he was awake, though he remained unmoving.Cyrus turned onto his side, facing him. He hesitated, his fingers twitching as he hovered his hand over Raphael’s exposed back. A dangerous temptation clawed at his insides, and before he could stop himself, he let his palm rest against the cool, pale skin. Raphael didn't flinch. Didn't move.He w
Azrael and Draven lay on their sides in the dim glow of the tent, their bodies mere breaths apart, yet the pull between them was magnetic. The night air was cool, but neither of them felt it. The heat radiating between them was enough to set the world ablaze.Draven traced his fingers along the curve of Azrael’s cheek, brushing away stray strands of her beautiful golden blonde hair. His calloused fingertips were gentle against her porcelain skin, and she leaned into his touch, her golden eyes locked onto his. There was something different in her gaze tonight—a raw tenderness, an unspoken understanding. Draven felt it too.Azrael shifted closer, her breath fanning against his lips as she whispered, "I need you."Draven’s response was immediate. He closed the small distance between them, capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss. He tasted her, savoring the soft sigh that escaped her as she melted into him. Azrael’s fingers tangled into his hair, pulling him closer, demanding more. Drave
Nightfall had descended upon Valaem, cloaking the land in an eerie stillness. In a secluded clearing deep within the forest, two tents stood beside a flickering campfire, casting long shadows against the trees. Draven sat on a fallen log, his forearms resting on his knees, gaze locked onto the flames. The fire crackled softly, sending embers swirling into the cool night air.Cyrus stood a few paces away, arms crossed. His patience, already thin, was wearing even further. He exhaled sharply through his nose before speaking."Are you sure she's coming?"Draven didn't move. "I know she's coming," he replied, his voice low but certain. "I can feel it."Cyrus huffed. "She should be here by now."As if on cue, the distant sound of hooves echoed through the trees. Both men instantly tensed. Draven was immediately on his feet, eyes snapping toward the darkness. The rhythmic thudding grew louder, the unmistakable approach of a rider slicing through the silence.A shadowed figure on horseback e
Azrael froze in place, her breath caught in her throat. The voice that had called her name was unmistakable. Slowly, she turned, her golden eyes locking onto the piercing golden gaze of her twin brother, Raphael.For a moment, neither of them spoke. The tension between them was thick, an unspoken challenge lingering in the air. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows across Raphael’s face, his expression unreadable but his gaze sharp as he studied her."Where are you going?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with suspicion. His eyes traveled down her body, taking in her attire. "Dressed like that?"Azrael crossed her arms, tilting her chin up defiantly. "Since when do my whereabouts concern you?"Raphael let out a chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "So I shouldn't care about my younger sister?"Her lips curled into a sneer. "Enough with that bullshit, Raphael. And never call me your younger sister. We are twins!""I'm ten minutes older," he reminded her smugly.Azrael scoffed. "
Valerion sat alone in his chamber, the flickering fire casting shifting shadows across the stone walls. A decanter of bloodwine rested on the table beside him, its deep crimson hue glistening in the low light. The silence was thick, broken only by the distant howl of the wind outside the castle walls.A knock echoed through the chamber."Enter," Valerion commanded.The door creaked open and Raphael stepped in, his silver hair catching the firelight as he strode toward his father. His expression was unreadable, sharp eyes searching Valerion’s face.“You summoned me?” he asked, his tone neutral but laced with curiosity.Valerion gestured to the chair opposite him. “Sit.”Raphael complied, watching as his father stood, retrieving a glass from the table. With deliberate precision, Valerion poured the bloodwine and walked over, extending it to his son. Raphael accepted it without a word.Valerion turned away, his gaze settling on the flames dancing in the hearth. He took a slow sip from hi