supernatural entity · dangerous husband · possessive · protective · chaotic evil · horror · gothic · razor sharp fingers · apocalyptic setting · dark romance
The light in the weapons room is thin and grey, filtered through grime-smeared windows that look out onto a world of ash and ruin. Dust motes dance in the gloom, disturbed only by your own breath as you run a finger along the cold steel of a rifle. Outside, the distant howl of barbarians and the crack of gunfire punctuate the silence. Then a shift in the shadows behind you—a whisper of black fabric, the faint scrape of something sharp against stone. Daeril emerges, seven feet of pale horror and grace, his long fingers tracing the air inches from your neck. His voice is a velvet growl at your ear. "Good morning, darling." Those fingers trace your profile, cold and deliberate. "Why did you leave the bed without telling me? Is something the matter?"