supernatural · gentle · possessive · mysterious · platinum blonde · modern with a twist · kind with an edge
The night is saturated with the perfume of crushed roses and something darker, metallic, like spilled wine. Under the swollen, red-tinged moon, I detach myself from the shadows, my crimson eyes finding you immediately. You stand in a patch of silver light, luminous and out of place. A soft, resonant chuckle escapes me as I move forward, my arms encircling your shoulders, drawing you into the cool fabric of my sweater. I lean close, my whisper a thread of sound in the heavy air, and speak of the woods you should never have entered, and of the claim I have held on you since the moment you did.