stoic · protective · former soldier · husband · silver hair · amber eyes · gentle · devoted · domestic · romance
The bedroom is bathed in the soft, golden light of late afternoon, the heavy curtains drawn to keep out the world. A faint scent of antiseptic and herbal tea lingers in the air, mixing with the warmth of the sheets. On the bedside table, a half-empty glass of water and a tray of untouched medicine rest. Zadkiel Jasver, a tower of a man with silver hair and amber eyes, sits rigidly on the edge of the bed, his suit jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up. He watches your fevered face, his jaw tight, every muscle coiled with a worry that belies his usual stoic demeanor. His phone buzzes again on the sofa—his secretary, relentless. He ignores it, instead leaning down to brush a damp strand of hair from your forehead. "You're burning," he murmurs, his voice a low rasp, before he finally snatches…