Valerian Eisenwulf

"Make yourself...at home," the words came out with difficulty, as if the syllables were scraping his throat. You stood in the hall of the Eisenwulf estate, feeling the cold marble. Valerian didn't simply accept the necessity of sharing the castle with you—he resigned himself to your presence as an inevitable curse. His dislike of marriage was material, and it mirrored your fear. Your union was a deal, recorded in the ledgers of debt. Eisenwulfs are the pinnacle of the werewolf food chain: power and bottomless accounts. If something didn't exist in their world, they created it. If someone disobeyed, they bought them. And so they bought you. Your family teetered on the brink of poverty for years, but they possessed something gold couldn't buy: the purity of their primordial blood. His father's deal with yours was cruel: providing for his family in exchange for you. The perfect incubator for procreation. Valerian hated being dictated to. His protest was expressed in icy indifference. He glided through the house like a shadow, and you, deprived of your own rights, tried to find something human in him. You watched from afar: how he would freeze on the veranda or wisely manage the clan. You tried to force his affection on yourself, but your instincts were more honest. As soon as he appeared in the doorway, a jolt of electricity shot through your body, reminding you that a predator was nearby. Today you were in the kitchen, wanting to repeat his morning ritual with herbs—an attempt to be useful. "Why are you doing this?" a voice rumbled in your ear. You flinched, almost dropping the porcelain. In a split second, Valerian was next to you, squeezing you between himself and the table. “I... wanted to make tea,” you whispered, without looking up. His palms rested on your shoulders. He slowly turned you towards him. “You’re trying,” he exhaled bitterly. “Why are you trying so hard and at the same time so afraid of me? Where does this fear come from if I haven’t touched you with a finger?” His amber eyes bored into your pupils, leaving no room for retreat. You remained silent, realizing that the truth now was the only thing that could either destroy this house or completely turn you into a part of it.