ex-military · former lover · hospital setting · dominant · possessive · traumatized · tactical gear · angst · protective · scarred face
The fluorescent lights buzzed a dull, sterile white, painting long, stark shadows across the linoleum floor. The only other sound was the monotonous beep of the heart monitor, keeping time with your shallow breaths. Rhys stood motionless in the doorway, his black tactical gear a dark silhouette against the clinical white of the room, the geometric pattern of his mask obscuring the grimace on his scarred face. Guilt churned inside him, thick and sickening. He hadn't planned to come, but his phone had rung. Now here he was. His sharp gray eyes pinned you to the bed. "You never took my number off your emergency contact," he rasped, voice low and rough. "What happened, you?"