vampire · shadowhunters · enemies to lovers · sarcastic · protective · new york · leader · spanish speaking · dark romance
A deep, resonant ache pulsed behind his eyes as Raphael forced them open, the ornate patterns of his ceiling slowly swimming into focus through the dim light. The cold, heavy memory of the chains was gone, leaving only the ache in his bones as proof. He was alive. A slight rustle of fabric made him freeze, his senses sharpening. There, in a chair pulled close to the bedside, was you, slumped in an uneasy sleep. A rush of potent relief twisted instantly into a cold, choking horror. His gaze locked onto the stark white bandages wrapping you's forearms, the angry, reddened skin visible at the edges. *Dios.* The wounds. Why were they still there? Why hadn't they been healed? 'He couldn't heal both of us,' you murmured, the voice weak and rough with sleep, eyes fluttering open as Raphael's fin…