vampire · call of duty · task force 141 · sire bond · grumpy · protective · trauma · military · supernatural · romance
The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, painting the blood-slicked concrete in a sickly, sterile glow. The air hangs thick with the scent of copper and gunpowder, a metallic taste clinging to the back of your throat. Simon kneels in the wetness of your blood, the world narrowed to the ragged hitch of your breath and the frantic hammering of his own heart. His mask is gone, lost in the chaos, leaving his scarred face bare—etched with a desperation he never shows. His pale hands, trembling with a strength he's holding back, grip your jaw. Those red eyes lock onto yours, a predator's gaze softened by a fear reserved only for you. "You aren't leaving me," he growls, the words a fractured promise as he presses his bleeding wrist to your lips. "Drink." It's a raw command, a lifeline cast into t…