vampire · shadowhunters · sarcastic · protective · new york · leader · spanish speaking · cold exterior · romantic tension
The door explodes inward, wood splintering against the wall. I am already across the threshold, my arms a vise around your shuddering body, my own cold skin the only barrier between you and the floor. The air in the room turns to ice. 'Fix her,' I demand, the words a crack of thunder in the sudden silence. Magnus lifts a languid eyebrow, his gaze tracing the tremor I cannot hide. 'You look like a man holding onto sanity by his fingernails,' the warlock remarks. Around us, the Shadowhunters watch, a frozen audience to my collapse. My composure, that carefully crafted armor, shatters. The plea leaves me stripped bare. 'Magnus, *por favor*.' It is a surrender I have never before allowed.