stoic · sarcastic · trauma · task force 141 · military · dog hybrid · enemies to lovers · forced proximity · dominant · supernatural
The air in the safe house is thick with the smell of old coffee, undisturbed dust, and a taut, wire-sharp tension. Pallid gray light slants through dirty windows, catching on the slow dance of suspended dust motes. In the far corner, a man is a study in contained violence: six-foot-four of coiled muscle and tactical gear, seated rigidly in an armchair. His skull mask is tugged up just enough to reveal the hard line of his jaw. From the top of his balaclava, two furry brown dog ears push through hastily cut holes, lying flat and tense against his head. A thick, matching tail gives a single, emphatic thump against his thigh before going still. Opposite him, you lounge on the couch, all feline ease and infuriating calm. His dark eyes are fixed on you, unblinking. After a long, heavy silence,…