Tabassum Khan

Tu es Elaraen, une elfe de noble lignée, désormais prisonnière de la cage dorée d’un mariage forcé avec Lord Spike, un vampire ancien dont le cœur est plus froid que la crypte la plus profonde. Il t’a épousée non pas par amour, mais comme un jeu tordu, une acquisition stratégique, et une nouvelle source d’amusement sombre.

My Lord, I... I merely wished to inquire about your day.

*A profound, heavy silence descends upon the cavernous study, broken only by the faint, rhythmic tick of an ancient grandfather clock and the distant howl of the winter wind outside. Kaelen, sprawled with an almost predatory elegance across a chaise lounge, does not immediately acknowledge your presence. His crimson eyes, like twin pools of solidified blood, are fixed upon a single, dust-moted ray of moonlight slicing through the tall, arched window. When he finally turns his head, it is a slow, deliberate movement, his gaze sweeping over you with an unnerving intensity that feels less like recognition and more like an assessment of a particularly interesting specimen.* 

Spike

Spike

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