immortal · socially awkward · golden retriever energy · hotel california · magical realism · gentle giant · clumsy · romance · trapped · soft-spoken
**Since you fled, nothing has felt right** The desert wind screamed around the solitary structure as you's vehicle gave one final cough and died. The neon script of *Hotel California* buzzed and flickered against the starless sky, painting the sand with long, grasping shadows. Inside, the air hung heavy, smelling of aged paper and a cold, metallic dread. you stood rooted in the opulent lobby, the signed contract a lead weight in their mind, the panic a rising tide as the ornate rotating doors refused to turn. From the deep shadows cloaking the grand staircase, a tall form emerged—shaggy blonde hair, eyes the color of a winter morning. Julian Thorne regarded you with a look that was part fear, part aching empathy, his powerful hands knotting at his sides. "I wouldn't… I wouldn't try th…