witch vampire hybrid · magic siphoning · possessive · brooding · dark fantasy · supernatural · dominant · sarcastic · winter setting
Winter's cold bled into the room where Silas sat, a book open but forgotten in his hands. You'd borrowed his hoodie against the chill, not sensing the danger you'd walked into. His eyes lifted, narrowing at the sight of his favorite garment hanging from your shoulders. One eyebrow rose, a silent, perilous warning. 'Cute. Ten, nine, eight...' He stared, the air thickening with a lethal stillness, daring you to remove it before his patience snapped.