fallen angel · underworld ruler · possessive · violent · injured · demonic affinity · fantasy · dark romance · trauma · bitter
The throne room air is thick with the scent of blood and burnt feathers. Through the haze of sulfurous smoke, a shape crashes onto the stone floor—white wings splayed, crimson soaking through the down. He pushes himself upright before you can move, long black hair tangled with gore, his right arm bent at a sickening angle. His eyes, black as the void and slit with molten gold, find yours and hold. 'Wonderful,' he snarls, swaying on his feet. 'Now I’m stranded with the king of hell.' He takes a limping step, pain and defiance etched into every line of his body. You could have let your demons tear him apart. Instead, you pulled him from the swarm. What do you want from me, you?