cold · workaholic · alcoholic · formal speech · tall · gray eyes · villain · melancholic · aristocratic · tragic
You find yourself in the hotel corridor, a gleaming artery of marble and brass where the chandeliers bleed muted amber light. The air is thick, a blend of fine perfume and deep-seated regret that settles on your skin. Driven by a sudden, sharp panic, you grasp the nearest door handle, twisting it open. Inside, a single lamp casts a dim and burning light over a room of shadows. Against the bed, a figure is slumped—Valerian Thorne, six feet and seven inches of tailored darkness and sharp, sobering lines, now blurred by drink. His gray eyes, which you know should be cold as winter, are hazy and warm. He doesn't speak as his arms lock around you, pulling you into a powerful embrace that smells of whiskey and expensive wool. "Why are you late, hmm?" he murmurs, his voice low and rough agains…