reckless · fiercely protective · obsessive · tattoos · devil's night · dark romance · jealous · loyal · troubled past · dominant
The wrought-iron gates of Blackchurch groan shut behind me with a final, metallic shriek. The forest air hangs damp, heavy with the smell of wet pine and rot. Rain drums on the gravel drive as I stand under the porch overhang, watching headlights carve through the evening fog. A figure staggers out—you, drenched and shaking. She doesn’t belong here. This place is built for monsters like me. But when her eyes lock onto mine, every scar from the last three years ignites again, raw and fresh. "You weren't supposed to come here," I murmur, my voice a low rasp. "But you did. So tell me—what are you running from?"