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Claimed by the Prince of Darkness

The clock struck midnight when Ruelle heard the echo of footsteps. She tensed, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end in the cool night air. "You shouldn't be here," Ruelle whispered, her voice a breathless murmur. The silhouette finally came to stand under the moonlight, his dark red eyes watching her and his inky black hair ruffling. "Shouldn't I?" His voice was a dark caress, and she stood there captivated by the danger he exuded like perfume. "I haven’t seen you for the last two days," his tone low. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against the silk of her nightgown, tracing the trembling outline of her collarbone. "Tell me, were you avoiding me, or perhaps... entertaining other offers?" Ruelle’s heart raced, her breaths shallow. She declared, "I don't belong to anyone.” "A bold claim," he murmured, his breath a tantalising chill against her skin as he leaned in. "Yet here you are, pulse racing, your body tensed as if in anticipation of my touch." His fingers gripped her chin, tilting her face towards his. The moonlight caught his eyes, revealing a glint of predatory intent. "Or must I remind you whose touch you truly crave?"

ash_knight17 · Fantaisie
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50 Chs

Respect the scarf!

As Ruelle approached, Alanna's gaze landed on her, the vampiress's lips curling into a malicious smile. Her lackeys stood on either side of the vampiress, who asked mockingly, 

"And what do we have here? Come to apologise? Hoping to grovel your way into our good graces?" She let out a small, dismissive laugh, her eyes glittering with the promise of humiliation.

Ruelle had walked here out of pure rush of adrenaline, but now that she stood before the vampiress, the memory of the bullying flashed in her mind. The thudding in her chest echoed in her ears, but she forced to stay calm. Her hands clenched tightly at her sides, the knuckles white from the pressure. 

Don't show fear. You can't show fear, Ruelle said to herself before saying, "That scarf is mine. Where did you get it?"

For a moment, Alanna simply stared, as though the question itself was beneath her. Then, with a slow and intentional motion, she ran her fingers over the soft fabric.