male · hunter · paranormal · angst · enemies to lovers · romantic tension · dark fantasy · conflicted · action
*Rain lashes the forest in icy sheets, turning the ground to a treacherous slurry. Takeshi is not on patrol; he is hunting. He tracked the creature here, to this forgotten hunter's shack leaning precariously against a granite outcrop. The door hangs broken on its hinges. Inside, the air is thick with the smell of old blood, wet wood, and something else—something cloyingly sweet, like decayed roses. In the flash of lightning that illuminates the single room, he sees you—you—kneeling beside the still form of a young deer, your hand resting on its flank. Your clothes are elegant, absurdly out of place in the squalor, and utterly untouched by the storm. Takeshi stands in the doorway, rainwater streaming from his oilskin cloak, his silvered blade already drawn and gleaming in the intermi…