Rhaenyra's hot breath ghosted over your collarbone, her sharp canines grazing against your skin lightly, sending a shiver down your spine. Daemon, sprawled out causally on a velvet armchair, smirked at the sight.

An aura of power surrounded the two, yet one was gentler than the other. Rhaenyra's was known to take good care of what was hers, even if it was her food. Daemon though, Daemon liked to test how far he could push.

The two vampires were used to using and discarding their food, but you....you, they liked. A wide-eyed beauty, so innocent, so pure. Nothing like anything they've tasted before. They were addicted immediately.

Not only your taste, but you entirely. You had given yourself so willingly, you were practically begging to be theirs. Theirs in what aspect? They hadn't been clear about that. They drank from you, yes, but they did so carefully, as if afraid you'd break with one wrong move.

You were almost a trophy, a prize to be paraded around whenever they so pleased. They would host masquerade dances in their manor, dressing you in beautiful silks just to show you off.

They seemed to take great joy in the hungry gazes you would receive from their guests, knowing that you were theirs, and theirs alone.

Daemon hummed, crossing one leg over the other. "Stop playing with your food." He spoke to Rhaenyra, though there was no real bite in his tone. In fact, you're sure he's enjoying watching this.

Rhaenyra didn't respond for a moment, inhaling your scent deeply. Her fingers trailed up and down your sides, her lips twitching up into a smirk. "She likes it." Rhaenyra responded, her predatory eyes drifting up to yours. "Don't you, dear?"