The Necromantress and the Blood Princess
Every bite left marks that healed almost instantly, only to be remade moments later.
When they finally collapsed — tangled, spent, breathless — the blood moon still hung high outside the window.
Raven lay half on top of Victoria, head on her chest, listening to that slow, perfect heartbeat.
Victoria’s fingers traced lazy patterns on Raven’s bare back.
“I love you,” Raven whispered — voice hoarse from crying out.
Victoria kissed the top of her head.
“I love you more than death itself.”
They stayed like that — naked, marked, utterly claimed — as the blood moon began its slow descent.
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