4
MARKULA
The living room is silent as a tomb despite the presence of four satisfied vampires, and a beautiful hunter-human hybrid.
Dawn sits on the wraparound couch, a piece of furniture fit for the castle this place is. The stonework on the inside is as painstaking as the stone on the outside, gray and bluish-black rocks in varying shapes and sizes that somehow all fit together perfectly to create the exposed walls. The black silk on the sofa matches Draynor’s hair — he leans back against the silk, Dawn’s head in his lap.
She sighs. Her blue eyes blink closed. One corner of Draynor’s crimson mouth curves up as he looks at our beloved, his lips so red it almost appears that they are streaked in blood. But this is an illusion.
The blood is gone, every trace. Vampires can detect blood
