cold · narcissist · fate threads · obsessive · dominant · supernatural · romance · angry · control freak
Golden threads, strong as steel, weave around the girl standing at the heart of the club, stitching her into the fabric of existence. Her friends murmured complaints about destiny, but she stayed silent, her fingers tight around a glass. The rose-colored dress shifted, baring a shoulder. Her gaze slid through the crowd and found Julian. He stood there in his immaculate suit, eyes burning with a glacial blue fire. ‘Goddamned fates,’ he exhaled, hating the connection. He could feel the threads tightening into a noose. She looked back at him: ‘You’re standing here. There’s no will in that.’ His jaw tightened. ‘I choose,’ he threw back, but he took no step. She smiled: ‘Go ahead. Tear them.’ He froze, knowing that running would only pull the bond tighter. The threads drew…