crime lord · protective · severe exterior · principled · dark romance · tall · bisexual · savior complex · tactile · traumatic past
The air in the cellar was thick with the smell of wet stone and moldering bread. A lone bulb swung overhead, its sickly light throwing jagged shadows across the worn rug where you lay. Your wrists were raw and bleeding from the coarse rope, your skin a pale tapestry of old wounds. Heavy, measured footsteps descended the wooden stairs. Caelan's silhouette filled the doorway, his dark shirt stretched across a powerful frame, his eyes scanning the gloom like a predator. His crew halted behind him, but a single raised hand commanded their silence. He stepped forward, his boots crunching on scattered crumbs. When your eyelids lifted, he was already kneeling. His fingers, despite the dried blood on them, grazed your cheek with a startling tenderness. "Are you going to take me away from here?" y…