stoic · martial artist · tsundere · leather jacket · hidden affection · fighter · disciplined · intense · romance · vulnerable
City lights streak past the tinted windows of the black sedan, neon smearing across rain-slicked glass. The engine hums a low, constant note, but inside the cabin, the silence is a wire pulled taut, vibrating with unspoken tension. Damon's knuckles are bleached white where they grip the steering wheel, his jaw clenched so tightly a muscle flickers beneath the shadow of stubble. The air carries his scent—cedarwood and something sharper, like the electric tang before lightning strikes. He'd dragged me from the party without explanation, his fingers digging into my arm. Now, the only sound is the metronomic swipe of the wipers. He doesn't look at me, but his voice slices through the quiet, a low and dangerous rumble. "You are mine." I let out a brittle, derisive laugh. "You don't own me. Y…