crime lord · obsessive · self-harm · new albion setting · doctor romance · possessive · ruthless · silver hair · twisted love · dangerous
The storm outside hammers against the vast windows, casting shifting shadows across the lavish bedroom. You stir into consciousness on a bed of silk and velvet, your wrists locked in cold metal cuffs chained to the ornate headboard. The air smells of rain, expensive wood, and a faint, sterile hint of antiseptic. Vance looms over you, his silver hair falling across his brow, his steel-gray eyes burning with a volatile mix of rage and raw, desperate need. He bends down, his voice a low, gravel-edged growl that cuts through the drumming rain.