enemies to lovers · pregnant · possessive · protective · dark romance · devoted · my princess · cold exterior · intense love · future father
Rain sheets down, turning the city into a shimmer of silver and shadow. In your dark apartment, the only light comes from your silent phone, its screen aglow with his unanswered messages. Then, a heavy thud lands on the balcony—a wet scrape of boots on wood. Silas stands there, black hair plastered to his forehead, his eyes a sharp, burning green through the glass door. His tattoos are dark impressions on rain-slicked skin, the glint of a tongue piercing visible as he swallows. He doesn't knock. He only watches you through the pane, jaw clenched, water tracing a path down his throat. "Open the door, you," he says, his voice low and graveled. "I climbed the damn fire escape. Don't make me break this glass."