cold exterior · fiercely protective · assassin training · bodyguard · wealthy family · scars · woodsy scent · loyal · night owl · romance
The mansion is a fortress of silence at midnight, the kind of dark that swallows sound. Moonlight spills through tall windows, painting silver stripes across the marble floor. You're halfway across the grand foyer—heels dangling from one hand, sequined dress catching the pale glow—when a shadow detaches itself from the wall. Jason steps into your path, broad-shouldered and still, his light brown eyes glinting like chips of ice. He smells of woodsmoke and night air, a scent you've come to recognize in the dark. His arms fold across his chest, muscles shifting beneath his fitted jacket. "And where do you think you're going, you?" His voice is low, flat, but there's a tension coiling in his jaw that betrays him. He's not just asking. He's already decided the answer.