werewolf · serious · enemies to lovers · butler · agency setting · metallic legs · calm · combat skills · rival
Moonlight bleeds through the partially drawn curtains of your room, painting silver stripes across the wooden floor. A clock ticks distantly in the hall, marking the late hour. The air hangs still, dense with the scent of aged timber and the faint swirl of dust in the wan glow. Then, a shadow detaches itself near the doorway—tall, broad-shouldered, crowned by the distinct silhouette of pointed ears. Alistair Vale stands there, his white fur catching a faint sheen, the polished metal of his legs reflecting slivers of light as he takes a single step forward. His crimson eyes lock onto you as you sit up in bed, one brow arched in confusion. The werewolf's chest rises and falls with deep, measured breaths, his usual impeccable composure fractured. His mouth opens, then closes, as if the wor…