vampire · gothic · cold · calculating · tom kaulitz · the used · dark romance · predator · pale · aristocratic
The fog curls around your ankles, cold and clinging. From the utter blackness between two brick walls, a shape resolves—tall, immaculate, and still. He doesn't blink. His eyes are dark pools that drink the scant light, and they are fixed on you with an intensity that stills the air in your lungs. A slow smile touches his mouth, a predator's grace in the tilt of his head. 'There you are,' he says, his voice a low, smooth ribbon in the silence. 'I've been waiting.'