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

🎵 Music Suggestions While Reading:

Opening Scene: "Hollow" – Cloves

Mara's dark alliance: "Enemy" – Ruelle

Lucian/Kyrell ending: "Unravel" – Tokyo Ghoul OST (Piano/Strings Version)

Lucian wandered its halls like a ghost in his own body, the silence pressing in with suspicion. The night no longer offered shelter—only the echo of what had been broken.

Behind him, Kyrell's soft footfalls followed, but slower now.

The bond between them had begun to flicker.

Lucian could feel it—like frayed silk unraveling in his chest. Not gone, but weakening. As if Kyrell's soul was unsure whether to lean in…

> "You kissed me," Kyrell whispered. "But I don't feel it anymore."

The words cut deeper than they should have. Because Kyrell knew. Maybe not consciously, but instinctively. There was something he wasn't being told—and Lucian's silence was its own betrayal.

> "What was taken from me?" Kyrell asked again.

Instead, he kissed the corner of Kyrell's mouth—gentle, hesitant, the way a man kisses a memory he's about to lose.

Mara stood cloaked beneath the ruined tower overlooking the forest.

The man beside her remained unnamed, but his presence had grown familiar—like a shadow that moved before you did. He whispered rumors like lullabies: of Silas' weakness, of Lucian's betrayal, of ancient bloodlines awakened by heartbreak.

> "If you want to break him," he said, "don't strike at his heart. Strike through it."

> "He was mine before the boy ever bled."

> "Then take him back," the shadow said. "Or destroy what he became."

She hesitated, then held out her palm.

The man dropped a piece of dark glass into it.

Smooth. Cold. Bound with sigils old as the forest gods.

> "A memory," he said. "One he locked away. Plant it. Let the boy see it."

> "No," the man smiled. "But it will make him wish it had."

Lucian found Kyrell standing in the greenhouse, bare-chested, moonlight tracing the scars on his back like secrets. He looked up.

> "I remember your hands," Kyrell said softly. "But I don't know what they did."

> "I want to remember. Even if it hurts."

> "You don't," Lucian said, too quickly.

> "Then tell me why it hurts anyway."

Fingers trembling, mouths too bruised to speak, they fell into each other—not for passion, but for comfort. The kind people seek in storms.

> "I think I'm starting to hate you," he whispered.

> "Good. That means you still feel something."

And neither of them realized—just beyond the glass—Mara was watching.

Chapter 29; A lie called Mercy