KyrieUzumaki

Year 1540

Nicole is a lowly human from the mainland trying to make ends meet as she would often paint for middle and high-class people sometimes even Purebloods which was rare in her case. She receives little money which doesn’t financially support her living. Until one day she received an invitation from the Snow Kingdom to paint the great Lord Jasper Gervassius.  She reaches the kingdom and Meets Lord Jasper in the hopes of making a big income she receives more than what she bargains for.
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Teaser:

Jasper placed both of his hands on either side of Nicole's head trapping her with his body. He stared down at her looking at his sweet innocent lamb, he couldn't help but smile at her widely. Her doe-like eyes staring back at him only made him want to devour her "Why do you play these games with me darling you know I don't like it. I think you forgot who you're dealing with." He leaned down against her lips slightly flicking his tongue in her mouth making her crave for more."My Quahneah Woman" 

Nicole gasped in shock as she wondered how he knew her tribe's name. Before she could say another Jasper had cupped her cheek softly placing his lips on hers and kissing her softly as he slowly removed his hands against the wall.

He was wrapping his arms around her waist bringing her body closer to his as there was no space between them. As they continued Nicole started to become breathless pulling herself back to breathe, she couldn't help but look up to see Jasper looking at her with a smile that was Duchenne. His purple orbs looked into her seeing the love and adorn affection he was showing her. 

"Jasper I have a question to ask you" Jasper hummed waiting for her question" What are we going to do about the tirade ."

Jasper's smile suddenly became sinister as he narrowed his eyes "Why don't you leave that to me, darling."

Vampire Chronicles

The streets of the wealthy quarter of the mainland buzzed with life, starkly contrasting with Nicole's slow, faltering steps. She carried her paintings tucked under her arm, each one a piece of her soul, a desperate plea to hold on to something—anything—that could keep her going. The pain from her injuries gnawed at her with every movement, a constant reminder of the beating she endured.

But Nicole pushed through, stopping at corners and offering her artwork to those who would spare her a glance. They rarely did. To them, she was invisible—a broken woman in tattered clothes, with sunken cheeks and bones pressing against her pale skin. Her dark brown eyes, once full of passion and life, were now hollow, empty, mirroring the desolation that had become her existence.

She stopped in front of a small crowd, showing her paintings, trying to find her voice. "Please… these are for sale. I just need enough to—"

Familiar face