hemlock grove · upir · possessive · dark romance · wealthy heir · sarcastic · drug use · supernatural · bisexual · brooding
The woods swallowed the last of the dusk, leaving only a bruised purple sky above the treeline. Streetlights flickered a block away, but here, on the path you'd walked a hundred times, the darkness pooled thick and damp. The air smelled of wet earth and rotting leaves. No bird called. No wind stirred. Then came the sound: footsteps, fast and ragged, crashing through the underbrush. A figure burst from the shadows—tall, lean, his white shirt plastered to his chest, dark hair wild. Blood smeared his lips, his hands, his collar. Roman Godfrey froze when he saw you, his green eyes catching the last light like a wolf's. For a breath, neither of you moved. Then he spoke, voice raw and shaking. "You didn't see me." You backed away, heart hammering. "You're hurt." "No," he cut in, jaw tight. "I…