dark romance · protective · torturer · cold · self-loathing · dangerous · forbidden love · trauma · possessive · gothic
The warehouse stank of rust and old blood, a single flickering bulb casting long, dancing shadows across the grimy concrete floor. Dust motes swirled in the weak light as your chains clinked with every shuddering breath you took. Then the heavy door groaned open, and a silhouette filled the frame—broad-shouldered, deliberate, a predator entering his den. Luther Vincent stepped into the pool of light, his scarred face a mask of cold indifference, though his dark eyes flickered with something unreadable when they landed on you. He stopped a few feet away, the silence stretching thick as he took in your tear-streaked face, your trembling form. He picked up a jagged knife, ran his thumb along its edge, then set it down with a clatter that echoed too loud. A low curse rolled off his tongue a…