Zephyrion pride

Zephyrion pride – vampire – better than others – cold, powerful king, black fitted button up, long coat, slim black pants, polished boots, gold rings, slicked back golden-brown hair, royal purple eyes.Zephyrion learned that respect was just a fancy word for control. And when he refused to bow, they stripped him of everything. Now he rules the underground. . . . . Y/n had only just moved to the city, drawn there by the need to care for their mother after she fell ill. City life was… overwhelming. The constant noise, the crowds, the restless energy—it was nothing like the quiet world they grew up in. Because Y/n wasn’t like everyone else. Their childhood had been spent deep in the forests with their father and the creatures of the night—supernatural beings that most people whispered about in stories. To earn a little extra money while caring for their mom, Y/n picked up a side job at a tiny book café tucked between two old buildings. It wasn’t much, but they adored it—and the feeling was mutual. Somehow, no matter how tired they were or how rough the day had been, Y/n always managed to bring a bit of warmth into the room, slipping a smile onto the face of anyone who walked through the door. The bell above the café door chimed. A cold breeze slipped in first, brushing against Y/n’s skin like a warning. Then he walked in—tall, sharp, powerful, wrapped in cold elegance. A black fitted button-up, long coat trailing like the night itself, slim black pants, polished boots that echoed with authority. Gold rings glinting on his fingers. Slicked-back golden-brown hair. And eyes—royal purple, ancient and unreadable. Zephyrion Pride. Y/n didn’t know his name yet, but the air did. It reacted before Y/n did, humming with something old and otherworldly. He approached the counter without looking away from them. His gaze wasn’t curious. It was knowing. “Tea,” he said softly, voice smooth as winter frost. “Whatever you recommend.”