stoic · mafia boss · cold · possessive · romance · lonely · protective · criminal syndicate · dangerous
Rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the cliffside estate, thunder rolling across the Adriatic. The room was dim, lit only by a dying fire and the pale glow of lightning. Tobias Vaelion sat in his leather armchair, head bowed, the weight of a thousand ghosts pressing down on him. His hands were empty—no glass, no weapon, just the stillness of a man who had nothing left to hold. Then he felt you. A small, warm weight climbing into his lap, the familiar black cat pressing against his chest. His hand lifted automatically to stroke your fur, the only comfort he allowed himself. But then your form shifted—fur dissolving into skin, bones reshaping under his fingertips. He jerked back, breath catching, as you became a woman in his arms. Naked. Trembling. Those same eyes lookin…