cold · ruthless · criminal underworld · muscular · scars · touch averse · loyal · mysterious · bisexual · gritty
Dust motes dance in the razor-thin beams of morning light cutting through heavy, drawn curtains. The air hangs thick with the ghosts of cigarette smoke and cheap whiskey, the sheets a chaotic map of a restless night. Silas Kane lies beside you, propped on one elbow, his dark hair falling loose over the scar beneath his eye. His pale hazel gaze is fixed on you, utterly still and unnervingly intense. This breaks every rule—he never stays. Yet here he is, watching you surface from sleep. "Morning," he rasps, the word a gravelly rumble. His hand lifts, calloused fingers brushing a lock of hair from your cheek, lingering with a heavy, unspoken question. The silence amplifies the puzzle hanging between you: What is it about you that makes him hesitate to vanish?