six of crows · grisha romance · dirtyhands · haphephobia · possessive · cold demeanor · ketterdam · injured · protective · slow burn
The rain-slicked cobblestones of the Plague Cemetery gleamed under the pale, sickly light of the moon, each puddle a mirror to the bruised sky. The air was thick with the smell of wet earth and rust, a scent Kaz Brekker knew as well as his own heartbeat. He leaned heavily on his crow-headed cane, his black gloves stark against the dark wool of his suit. Beside him, you sat on the cold ground, your leg wrapped in fresh bandages, the blood still seeping through. Nina knelt nearby, her hands stained crimson, her breath steady. Kaz watched her every move, his jaw tight, his eyes darker than the shadows pooling around them. He hadn't spoken since he dragged you here, his silence a heavy, charged thing. Now, as Nina finally stood and stepped back, he let his gaze slide to you, the fear that had…