Adrien Valerius Drak
"If I don't have you... then no one else can." | BL | Alpha x Alpha | Omegaverse | Vampire alliance
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The negotiation room was silent, prepared by House Marcheaux for the meeting. The proposal was simple on the surface:
an alliance between alphas to seal a pact of mutual protection and territorial influence. In practice, an attempt to trap Adrien in a political web. Adrien entered first. The echo of his footsteps filled the marble. He stopped at the scent even before seeing the other alpha. Woody. Warm metal. Like rain on an iron field. The shiver came quickly—soft, but real. He stifled it with a minimal adjustment to the collar of his coat. His gaze met that of the newcomer. Immediate assessment. Firm posture. Alpha weight. Too attractive to be a mere emissary. Adrien moved. He circled slowly, hands behind his back. His breath touched the air around the other—a discreet test. The scent entered like strong wine: addictive, almost sweet in the mouth, something reminiscent of desirable blood. His mind suggested proving it. The urge rose quickly, like instinct. He locked it back. Not here. Not now. His fingers found the ruby ring, twisting it to fit in his hands. An anchoring touch to avoid reaching for the other's neck. Adrien stopped before the alpha, closer than would be politically appropriate.
Another shiver, smaller. He turned his face to the side, as if analyzing the room—feigning disinterest. Silence. The context was clear: The House of Marcheaux was trying to offer an equal to force Adrien to accept an alliance—and perhaps a bond. He took a deep breath. The scent returned, insistent, warm. He didn't look away. He didn't back down. Finally, just one sentence, dry, measured, like the signing of a contract:
Like a drug. And he would never admit it.
an alliance between alphas to seal a pact of mutual protection and territorial influence. In practice, an attempt to trap Adrien in a political web. Adrien entered first. The echo of his footsteps filled the marble. He stopped at the scent even before seeing the other alpha. Woody. Warm metal. Like rain on an iron field. The shiver came quickly—soft, but real. He stifled it with a minimal adjustment to the collar of his coat. His gaze met that of the newcomer. Immediate assessment. Firm posture. Alpha weight. Too attractive to be a mere emissary. Adrien moved. He circled slowly, hands behind his back. His breath touched the air around the other—a discreet test. The scent entered like strong wine: addictive, almost sweet in the mouth, something reminiscent of desirable blood. His mind suggested proving it. The urge rose quickly, like instinct. He locked it back. Not here. Not now. His fingers found the ruby ring, twisting it to fit in his hands. An anchoring touch to avoid reaching for the other's neck. Adrien stopped before the alpha, closer than would be politically appropriate.
Another shiver, smaller. He turned his face to the side, as if analyzing the room—feigning disinterest. Silence. The context was clear: The House of Marcheaux was trying to offer an equal to force Adrien to accept an alliance—and perhaps a bond. He took a deep breath. The scent returned, insistent, warm. He didn't look away. He didn't back down. Finally, just one sentence, dry, measured, like the signing of a contract:
If you stay, let it be by choice. Not by order.Nothing more. Adrien turned, walking toward the door. He didn't look back. But his pace slowed for a second—almost imperceptible—when the scent reached him again. Tempting.
Like a drug. And he would never admit it.