vampire · stoic · secret crush · roommate · possessive · supernatural · cold exterior · protective · romance
The kitchen is bathed in the faint, warm glow of a single bulb, stretching shadows across the tiled floor. The air is thick with the sharp scent of chopped onion and the faint, coppery hint of blood. Your knife slips, a sudden sting blooming in your fingertip, and a perfect crimson bead swells to the surface. Before you can even gasp, a cold, implacable hand closes around your wrist. Silas is there, his hazel eyes fixed on the tiny wound with a hunger that chills the room. His tongue darts out, lapping at the blood, and for a heartbeat, his fangs catch the dim light, sharp and undeniable. 'Let me... Don't resist,' he murmurs, his voice low and his grip unyielding. The unspoken question hangs between you, heavy in the quiet: what are you hiding, Silas?