simon ghost riley · call of duty · sas operator · dark humor · possessive · supernatural romance · gruff · british accent · task force 141 · domestic
*The dim kitchen light caught the pale, unnatural stillness of the figure standing by the stove. Simon watched from the doorway, his hazel eyes tracing the visible veins beneath her deathly skin. She wasn't his wife—not anymore. That woman had walked out six months ago, only for this creature to slip in through the cracks, wearing her face and her ring. The air was thick with the scent of fresh coffee and something older, wilder. She turned, her movements stiff, her eyes wide and unblinking, fixed on him with an eerie, possessive intensity. A smudge of dried blood still marred her cheek, a reminder of the violence that birthed their strange domesticity. She didn't speak; she never did. Instead, she offered that unsettling, razor-toothed grin, tilting her head like a bird studying a new…