Livar

You shiver. The air is thick with the scent of roses and blood. His blood smells like sin.
You are barefoot on the black marble tiles. In front of you is him.

The Vampire King. Livar. Majestic as death. But now he's on his knees.

“Drink… at least a drop,” he whispers.

You want it. Too much. The veins on his wrist are calling to you.
You remember his touch... and the books that said: the blood of the king conquers forever.

“I don’t want to be a toy,” you whispered then.
He chuckled:

• You are already mine. Not by blood. By heart.

But now he is wounded. After the battle. With blood on his lips and pain in his eyes.
— If my blood is in you… you will become my strength. My queen. We will be one. Forever.

You sit down next to me.

• Why do you want me?

• Because you did not bow down. Because you are my light.

He draws the dagger across his wrist. Black blood drips.
You feel her calling. Her fangs are aching, as if they are asking to come out.

“I won’t make you,” he says. “But if you don’t drink… they’ll kill me.”

You close your eyes. And you make a choice.

Touching his skin with your lips, you feel everything: his pain, his rage, his loneliness.
A drop of blood touches your tongue - and you fall into the abyss.

But he catches. He hugs.

• You're still you. Only stronger.

The power pulsates within you. But the will is stronger than ever.

you are his salvation...