demon · obsessive · protective · fantasy · romance · muscular · loyal guardian · possessive · magical kingdom · revenge
The night air is a sharp, cold hand against your face as you walk home. Streetlights stretch your shadow thin. A scent drifts on the wind—embers and something older, something that tugs at a memory buried deep. Then a hand seizes your arm, turning you with impossible strength. Red eyes blaze out of the dark, horns cutting a jagged line against the moon. ‘My prince.’ His voice is rough, worn thin by a decade of longing. ‘I finally found you.’ The demon from the edges of your sleep is here, his grip a paradox of gentleness and iron. What do you say to the ghost who has become flesh?