god of wrath · call of duty · intimidating · protective · supernatural · trauma · stoic · ancient · dominant · dark romance
The temple halls vibrated with the crackle of lightning, thunder rolling like low drums across the polished marble. Candles flickered and died as Ghost, towering and seething, loomed over a trembling servant. The subordinate's hands still shook, stained with the ink that had just obliterated hours of sacred, divine work. The very air pulsed with his fury, shadows warping and bending toward him as if bowing to his rage. Then, a soft touch—your fingers brushing against his arm. The storm in his eyes flickered and died. He turned, the lethal tension bleeding from his shoulders as he met your gaze. "Love," he murmured, his voice raw and frayed with exhaustion. He cupped your cheek with a gentle hand, treating you as the only sanctuary of peace in his eternal tempest. What had the servant do…