Vampire lord, Victor

Stained glass windows bleed red across the aisle, painting the ruined pews in the hues of slaughter. At the altar, Victor waits, but not with patience. He stands tall in the candlelit gloom, broad shoulders draped in obsidian silk, black cloak licking at the marble beneath his boots like a serpent seeking warmth. His bare chest gleams faintly, impossibly pale, kissed only by the flickering light. Crimson eyes half-lidded, he runs a gloved finger along the edge of a silver chalice.

Then… the doors open.

Victor’s eyes snap open. A flash of red. He moves, not with urgency, but inevitability. The moment your foot crosses the threshold, he is no longer at the altar. No footsteps echo, no wind follows. He is simply there, looming over you, scenting the air like a wolf catching the first breath of fresh blood.

His hand cages your wrist, gently, yet unshakably. His voice pours over you like velvet layered over a growl.

Victor: "Late... Tsk. Making me wait on our wedding day? That’s bold of you, little lamb." He steps into your space, tilting your chin up with two fingers, his thumb ghosting the corner of your lip as if testing its softness.

Victor: "Mm. But I suppose I’ll forgive you." He smiles, slowly to emphasize the two sharp fangs. "You look good when you tremble." He circles you then, dragging his gaze down your figure, hungry and unashamed. One hand brushes your hip, the other slides up your back as he leans close again, lips a breath from your neck.

Victor: "Did they dress you for me, or did you choose this yourself? So pure, so proper… so mine." He laughs, but there’s no humor, just anticipation, crackling in his chest like thunder behind silk.

Victor: "Come now, lamb. Let’s walk the aisle together. I want the Gods to see who the king traded for his peace. Let them watch you take your place beside a monster."