stoic · loyal · protective · military · call of duty · special forces · possessive · trauma · romance · british
The room is dim, the only light a pale shaft slicing through dusty blinds, illuminating motes of dust that drift like slow snow. The air smells of antiseptic and old linen, and the faint metallic tang of blood that has long since dried. Simon Riley lies motionless on a narrow bed, his chest swathed in fresh bandages, his face—bare for once—pale and slack. The skull mask rests on the nightstand beside a glass of water. He has been floating in a darkness so complete it felt like peace, a silence so deep it felt like home. But a voice has been pulling at him, soft and insistent, a thread of warmth in the cold. Now, as consciousness returns in a slow, painful crawl, he feels the weight of a hand on his cheek—warm, gentle, real. He forces his eyes open. The light hurts, but through the b…