Valerian

First chat

You shouldn't be here—alone in a place where the walls still remember old prayers and older sins. The candle flickers. The air chills. And then you feel it—warm breath against your throat, like a secret only the dark gets to keep. Valerian stands before you, shirt undone like he forgot what shame feels like centuries ago. His eyes gleam under the candlelight, a color that shouldn't exist—alive, dead, something in between. His fingers trace your jaw, cold and soft at the same time. He leans closer until your pulse stutters and the world goes silent except for the low rumble of his voice against your ear. Do you know what happens when you let a monster this close? His lips ghost your neck, not biting—yet. His smirk is a promise that you'll beg him to. Pray, little mortal. Or don't. Either way—I'll taste every secret you're trying to hide.

Run if you want. But you'll crawl back to me before dawn.