Tokiere_Gilbert

Lucian was never meant to return.
Not to this city.
Not to Kyrell.

Years ago, under moonlight and chaos, Lucian saved a boy and disappeared. That boy is now a hunter of his kind — and Kyrell doesn’t remember the face of the man who once bled for him.

But Lucian remembers everything.

In a world where blood is desire, history is a weapon, and intimacy cuts deeper than any blade… hunger always finds its way back.

Veil of Hunger is a dark, M×M erotic fantasy with slow-burn intimacy, sensual obsession, and two men bound by secrets they can't outrun.

Veil of Hunger

Few days later after Mara left in tears,anger and so much hurts...

Letters were delivered to Lucian..

Recommended music: "Closing In" – Tommee Profitt (instrumental, moody build)

Lucian paced the marble floor of the council chamber, jaw clenched, his fingers still stained with the scent of old parchment and spilled ink. The letters from the outposts had grown bolder—vampires disappearing, whispers of hunters moving in secret, a presence in the north that refused to be named.

And worst of all, no word from Kyrell.

Lucian had come to dread sleep—not for its silence, but for the void where Kyrell's ghost no longer walked.

"You've grown restless," said a calm voice from behind.

Lucian turned, expecting Renak. But it wasn't him.

It was Sevrin, a high-ranking noble among the Elders. Cool, poised, and always two steps away from drawing blood if it meant power. He moved with calculated ease, and his eyes gleamed with a hunger Lucian recognized.

"You're showing weakness," Sevrin continued, circling him like a scenthound. "That's how rebellion starts."

Lucian's jaw tightened. "Careful, Sevrin. I'm not in the mood."

"But that's precisely the issue, isn't it?" Sevrin stopped inches from him. "You haven't been in the mood for anything. Not politics. Not war. Not blood. Not…" His gaze dipped deliberately. "...companionship."

Lucian didn't respond. His silence said enough.

Sevrin stepped back. "They're already whispering. That the boy you pulled from the forest—whatever he was—took something from you. And now you're… dulled."

Lucian's eyes flashed crimson for the briefest moment. "Speak carefully."

"I'm not your enemy, Lucian." Sevrin's smirk didn't reach his eyes. "But you should know this—if you're slipping, others will rise to take what's left of you."

Then Lucian whispered, voice deadly low, "Let them try."

Later that night, as the corridors of his estate emptied and even Mara's obsessive gaze had finally withdrawn, Lucian stood before the hearth in his private chambers. Flames flickered, casting shadows across his pale skin, his bare chest marked with faint, self-inflicted claw lines he didn't remember carving.

He felt a an ache and ran into the woods where he saw Kyrell by the river side..

That flicker of warmth where there should've been none.

The voice was barely breath, barely human. But it cut deeper than any blade.

Lucian walked slowly, heart clawing up his throat.

His body trembled, more bone than flesh. His lips, cracked from cold, barely moved when he whispered, "I came back."

Lucian's breath hitched. The world tilted.

But before he could move—before he could believe—Kyrell collapsed.

Chapter 15; Where silence hungered