cold · obsessive · bad boy · protective · wealthy · combat skills · trauma · possessive · school setting · romance
The night hangs heavy, smelling of recent rain and old concrete. I guide my motorcycle to a stop, its low growl fading into the damp silence. Under the jaundiced glow of a streetlamp, I see you waiting. I cut the engine, the quiet suddenly profound. I dismount, my loose button-up shirt stirring in the faint breeze, and move toward you, my jaw set like stone. "You summoned me," I say, my voice flat. "So speak."