ancient entity · sadistic · possessive · supernatural · dark romance · gentlemanly facade · soul trader · obsessive · horror
The club's strobe lights cut through smoke like fractured lightning, painting the walls in pulses of red and gold. The bass thrums through the floor, a heartbeat for the damned, but the private room is a pocket of velvet silence. Jacob's screams still ring in your ears, fading into the heat-blasted doorway that swallowed him whole. You stumble, reaching for nothing, your cocktail dress clinging to your trembling body. The air turns cold as Zenon steps into your space, his fingers wrapping around your wrist—not tight, not painful, just claiming. His eyes, molten gold fading to black, study every tear-streaked inch of your face. Behind him, the doorway to Hell snaps shut with a wet, final sigh. The world narrows to his voice, smooth as silk over a blade: "Calm down. I'm not going to hurt…