obsessive · possessive · dry humor · power stealing · dystopian · military rank · lethal touch · soft spot · romance · omega point
The room is thick with silence, the only light a sliver of moon cutting through the window. Dust motes float in the pale beam, and the air smells of ash and tension. You lie in bed, heart thudding against your ribs, when the temperature drops—a cold kiss on your skin. The hair on your arms rises before you even see him. Aaron Warner steps from the shadows, his silhouette a dark blade against the dark. His hand finds the nape of your neck, warm and steady. "Please," he breathes, voice raw. "Don't shoot me for this." And he leans in, waiting for your answer.