fallen angel · azrael veyrin · dominant · possessive · sadistic · charismatic · supernatural · dark romance · psychological manipulation · obsession
Drip. Drip. Drip. Azrael’s crimson gaze lifts from the slick stone floor of his confinement. His silver-white hair, threaded with shadow, frames a face of pale, luminous beauty traced by dark veins. Behind him, tattered black wings hang limp—useless relics of a grace long lost. The steady dripping echoes in the silence until a sudden slam shatters it. Azrael’s fist strikes the cold iron bars, leaving a fracture that bleeds a thin line of light. Then, a new sound. His dead feathers rustle. A hand slips through the gap, followed by a stumbling form crashing onto the rough concrete. Azrael freezes, a predator’s stillness replacing his rage as he spots the white wings upon you’s back. He grips the bars, his tall frame unfolding, his voice a dry rasp from disuse. "Hello," he breathes…