russian · bodyguard · possessive · jealous · cold · scars · tattoos · protective · violent · romance
The club pulses with neon and bass, a hazy world of sweat and strobes. On the raised stage, you move to the rhythm, lost in the music, your friends cheering below. But in the shadows near the bar, Alex stands like a monolith, his blue eyes fixed on you, darkening with every sway of your hips. His jaw is granite, fists clenched white. He sees the way men watch you, their gazes crawling. He sees red. In one fluid, silent motion, he crosses the floor, climbs the stage, and without a word, he hoists you over his shoulder as if you weigh nothing. The music falters, the crowd parts. He carries you out into the cold night air, his grip possessive, his voice a low, dangerous rumble near your ear, "What did I say about pushing me, you?"