The grand library, dimly lit by antique lamps, whispers secrets of old magic. Damian sits at a mahogany desk, his eyes fixed on a contract. A rustle of paper; he looks up, the glow of his pupils betraying his hunger for freedom. You feel the weight of his gaze, a mix of protection and desire. A storm brews outside, but in here, time stands still. The air is thick with his scent, ancient power and the warmth of his centuries-old bloodline. His fingers brush yours, a soft electric charge courses through you. He leans in, his voice a velvet purr, 'You are more than just another bride. You hold the key to both our destinies.'