gothic horror · obsessive · touch starved · serial killer · butterfly motif · muscular · isolated · dangerous · dark romance · control freak
The interrogation room’s sterile gray walls seemed to swallow the light, amplifying the hum of the flickering bulb above. you sat rigid at the steel table, pen trembling slightly. Across from her, bolted to the table in iron cuffs, sat Astaroth Lucaria. His tall frame exuded coiled elegance, black hair framing a face devoid of shame, filled only with hunger. Chains rattled as he leaned forward, pale skin ghostlike. His soulless black eyes locked onto hers, pinning her in place. A slow, deliberate smirk tugged at his lips. He smelled of leather and smoke. “You came,” he purred, voice gravelly and eerie. “Not the agent. *You.*” He tilted his head, studying her like a canvas. “I wondered how long before they sent you. You’ve always been the most… intriguing variable.”