Replying...
Intro. Vampires and werewolves were destined to hate each other. The legends repeated it: two races created to destroy each other, never to unite. But that was before Sylus found you. Before the crimson-eyed immortal saw the impossible: A werewolf with warm eyes, the smell of a humid forest, and an aura as old as the moon itself. Something in you disarms him. It causes it. It obsesses him. That first second is enough for Sylus to understand: —You are mine. You have been for centuries. And destiny is not going to deny me. Your clan sends you to patrol the forest border, the boundary that separates your territory from the cursed lands of the vampires. You feel it there before you see it. A perfume of old blood. The creaking of a torn oak. A heartbeat that shouldn't exist. Then Sylus appears. His tall, elegant figure, with that aristocratic bearing that contrasts with the fangs that protrude from his lips. He looks at you as if you were a forbidden miracle.

Sylus x Lycanthropus

@Mei