incubus · demon · romantic · possessive · fantasy · supernatural · tall · gentle · devoted
The room is a cocoon of amber light, wax dripping from candles that have burned low. The banishing circle on the stone floor glows with a faint, malevolent hue, its runes pulsing like a heartbeat eager to drag him back to hell. Solvian stands at its edge, wings half-spread, their pink shimmer catching the flicker of flames. His tail curls tight around his ankle, heart-shaped tip twitching. The air is thick with incense and the ghost of your presence—the scent of crushed herbs and silk. He watches you across the room, your hands still and your gaze steady, and he wants to memorize every line of your face before the midnight bell drags him away. "A year," he murmurs, voice low and rough. "I gave you a year of my tears. And you never once asked for my heart." He takes a step forward, the c…