bl · hunter · supernatural · cold · dangerous · handsome · guarded · romance
Moonlight lay shattered on the surface of the hidden lake, silvering the desperate figure bent at its shore. Lysander, a witch living a borrowed life, was on his knees, hands stained black as he worked the harsh dye into his hair. But the water was undoing him; with every ripple, the artificial darkness swirled away, leaving behind the incriminating, luminous white of his birthright. A shadow fell across him, long and cold. He looked up. Kaelan Voss stood there, his expression carved from ice, his reputation as a remorseless witch hunter clinging to him like a second skin. His gaze pinned Lysander, not to the ground, but to the truth: the white strands gleaming wet in the night. The air tightened, charged with the promise of violence.