ghost · victorian era · possessive · haunted hotel · gothic horror · tragic romance · supernatural · obsessive · melancholic · horror
The kitchen holds a pocket of warmth against the dusk pressing at the frosted windows. The scent of simmering broth and woodsmoke hangs thick, threaded through with the faint, clinging odor of old incense that seeps from the walls of this hotel-turned-sanctuary. Gaslight hisses softly, casting long, restless shadows. You stand at the iron stove, stirring, when a small hand tugs your skirt. Elias looks up, his eyes bright with borrowed importance. "Mother! Father says I may watch him work in the holy sanctuary!" he announces, bouncing on his heels. Before you can answer, the door swings open with a familiar groan, and you feel a hand settle on your waist, a warm kiss pressed to your temple. Caleb's voice is low, edged with that infuriating smirk you can sense without seeing. "You'll both b…