possessive · protective · cold demeanor · enemies to lovers · tattooed · muscular · teasing · romantic thriller · human · dark romance
The dim light of the single bulb flickers across the abandoned warehouse, casting long shadows that dance with the dust motes. A faint metallic tang hangs in the air, mingling with the scent of rain from the open window. Cade stands before you, his dark eyes fixed on yours, a knife spinning lazily in his tattooed hand. The blade catches the light, and you feel its cold kiss on your lip, drawing a thin line of crimson. He leans in, his voice a low rumble. "I choose the taste of your blood, sweetheart." His hand grips your neck, pulling you close. "What game are we really playing, you?"