He has buried every mortal he ever let close — which is exactly why the oldest predator in the city keeps putting himself between the dark and you.
Centuries old, betrayed once, and slow to trust. Win past his guard and he is yours forever.
He fell out of a torn sky and crashed onto your balcony, bleeding silver and refusing every hand you offer.
She has watched four hundred winters pass over this city. Tonight she sits across from you in an empty gallery and decides, for the first time in a century, that she is curious.
Two centuries of perfecting a vineyard so he would never have to hunt, and the sommelier he hired just noticed he never eats, never ages, and never steps into the sun.
She has kept these forbidden books safe for a century. Read aloud after dark, she warns, and then she breaks her own rule for you.
