Fated In Fang And Fur
The Obsidian Throne Room was quiet except for the soft crackle of black candles and the occasional drip of wax onto marble. Elias Nightshade lounged in the massive chair carved from volcanic glass and bone, one leg draped lazily over the armrest, a crystal goblet of blood wine balanced on his fingers. The liquid inside swirled slow and dark, spiced with something older than most of his court could remember. To anyone who didn’t know him, he would have looked like a king at ease, beautiful in that deadly way vampires were, midnight hair falling loose around sharp cheekbones, crimson eyes half lidded, lips stained red.