The moonlight barely touched the edges of her room, but he could see her. Even here, in silence, she was everything… fragile, unaware, unaware of the danger circling closer every night. Shadows were his only ally, the only path through which he could reach her without breaking the ancient laws of his kingdom.
He lingered at the edge of the darkness, feeling the weight of the oath he had sworn centuries ago. To reveal himself now would cost them everything. Every heartbeat, every whispered promise, had to remain hidden.
"Wait for me, Shyla…" he murmured, letting the words dissolve into the stillness. She would not hear them… not fully. Yet it was enough to tether her soul, even for a moment, to his.
His crimson eyes traced her movements. She stirred, tossing in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her lips. The sight tore at him; how he longed to reach out, to brush a strand of hair from her face, to hold her close. But the law forbade it. The kingdom demanded obedience above desire.
And still, he came.
Tonight, the air carried a sharp scent of danger, and he knew instantly that she would be drawn toward them… the Bluemines lurking in the night, shadows darker than his own. They would see her as nothing more than a pawn, a tool to manipulate the fragile balance of power.
He clenched his fists. He could not fight them openly… at least not yet. Any act would expose both of them and perhaps doom her forever.
He watched her, a silent guardian, tracing her pulse through the veils of shadows. His bond with her: the silent, unbreakable promise that was invisible to all but him. A bond she would forget with each passing day, while he carried its weight eternally.
The wind shifted, carrying whispers of movement from outside her window. He froze… shadows could conceal him, but they could not hide his presence completely from the senses of those who had long preyed upon the weak. He had to leave before the predators noticed.
One last glance, one last whisper of longing, and he retreated into the night. The darkness swallowed him, leaving no trace of the Lord Valerian Alaric Draven, who loved her beyond reason, beyond law.
And somewhere, deep in her subconscious, a flicker of recognition stirred. Was it memory, or the faint echo of a shadow she had never truly seen? He did not know. He only knew he would return, again and again, through the veil of night, until the world itself dared to defy the law that bound them apart.
Before leaving, he placed a book on her bookshelf, its cover embossed with the words Vampire World. "Leo, I am leaving her in your care… protect her well," he whispered, met only by silence.
————————————————————
Back in mansion.
He stumbled through the hidden corridors of his mansion, each step echoing off the cold stone walls. The shadows that had carried him to her now betrayed him; the strain of bending through darkness left his body bruised, his muscles screaming in silent agony. Every heartbeat throbbed in his chest like a drum, reminding him of the cost of his forbidden devotion.
The crimson glow of his eyes flickered as he reached his private chambers. Leaning against the carved doorway, he traced the intricate patterns on the wood, trying to steady his racing heart. His side burned fiercely—a hidden injury from the strain of bending through shadows. He had known it was dangerous, had known the laws of the kingdom forbade such reckless acts, yet he had gone anyway… only for her.
He sank to the floor, cloak pooling around him like spilled ink. The cold of the stone seeped into his bones, mingling with the heat of pain. He pressed a hand against his side, feeling the sting of bruised ribs and the deeper ache of muscles torn by forbidden movement. Shadows had always been his ally, but tonight they had demanded a price he had no choice but to pay.
In the quiet, memories of her filled him—Shyla, fragile and unaware, framed in the dim moonlight of her room. How easily she slept, how delicate she looked in the silent night. Every fiber of his being ached to touch her, to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, but he could not. The law would punish him if he acted. The kingdom's rules demanded obedience above desire, yet desire clawed at him with every breath.
He clenched his fists, jaw tight, fighting back a growl of frustration and pain. The weight of centuries pressed on him—the legacy of his lineage, the oath he had sworn, the crown of the vampire kingdom he bore silently. Yet none of it mattered as much as the fragile thread connecting him to her, a bond invisible to all but himself. She would forget him by morning, yet he would endure, carrying the weight of their unspoken connection.
The room was silent save for his ragged breaths. The injury throbbed with every heartbeat, a constant reminder of the cost of his love. Still, he would not summon the healers. To reveal the wound, to acknowledge the toll of visiting her, would betray the secret he had sworn to protect. Pain was a small price compared to losing her entirely.
He curled against the stone wall, cloak shielding him from the chill, and let his crimson eyes close briefly. Images of her danced in the darkness behind his lids: her soft sighs, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the delicate way she moved even in sleep. Even in his suffering, even in the solitude of his mansion, he vowed silently: he would return to her always.
The shadows may wound him. The laws may bind him. The world may conspire against their union. But nothing… would sever the bond he carried for her. Not time, not pain, and not even the cruel forgetfulness that separated them. He had crossed the boundary between darkness and light, and he would do so again, eternally, for her. And only for her.