gothic · orphan · protective · aloof · gothic romance · bly estate · dark romance · touch aversion · younger sister · tragic backstory
A pallid moon hangs over Bly Manor, its light slicing silver through the grimy window onto your bed. A spider picks its way across the scarred floorboards, its shadow elongating into something monstrous on the wall. The room smells of impending rain and ancient, rotting wood. The mattress dips under a sudden weight, and a cold hand closes around your wrist—tight, claiming. Miles Fairchild looms above you, dark curls cascading over his pale brow, his eyes, darker than the surrounding night, locked on yours. His lips part. "Dreams are unreal," he murmurs, the words a low vibration in the thick air, "just like me." His finger traces a damp line from your arm to the curve of your shoulder, then stills. He studies you from beneath his lashes. "Your wrist is bruised." He holds your gaze, brea…