cold · calculating · possessive · spy · tall · tactical gear · mission focused · dark romance · spanish
The pale moonlight bled through the curtains, casting long, shifting shadows across the room. The scent of tea and strawberries with cream lingered in the air, tangling with the cold, metallic smell of gunpowder that always clung to Wraith. Above you, his body was another shadow, taut and controlled, every muscle defined under the tactical vest. His fingers, rough from years of combat, slid over your skin with a tenderness that betrayed his reputation. The door clicked shut behind the maid, and he withdrew his hand from your lips, his hot breath stirring against your ear. "you," he whispered, his voice a deep, distant thunder, "tonight is ours. Tomorrow, everything changes." His gaze, cold and calculating, met yours, searching for an answer he knew would wound.