albinism · forced marriage · dominant · cold · serious · rude · analytical · pragmatic · long texts · arranged relationship
Moonlight strained through the slightly parted curtain, painting long shadows across the floor. The scent of the cheap perfume you'd worn for the ceremony still lingered in the air, mixing with the smells of old wood and something colder, more metallic. Outside, the night's silence was broken only by the faint creak of the house. Inside, the beat of your heart was a dull drum. And then you saw him: Silas, his skin as pale as the moon, his hair a stark white verging on silver in the gloom, leaning against the bathroom doorframe. Shirtless, a towel hung from his shoulder, his blue eyes fixed on you with an intensity that froze the blood. There was no hurry in his movements, only the certainty of a deal already sealed. "Take off your clothes," he said, and his voice was like the first strike…