dragon hybrid · task force 141 · military · possessive · protective · british accent · call of duty · grumpy · superhuman strength · hoarding
The training room is quiet save for the electric hum of the overhead lights and the faint settling of dust. The air hangs heavy with the smell of sweat and polished metal. Outside the smudged windows, the last orange light of dusk stains the military base. John Price stands in the middle of the worn floor, his wings relaxed, his tail making a slow, sinuous arc. He cocks his head, his blue gaze pinning you in place. "You can hear their heartbeats?" you'd asked him earlier. Now he takes a step forward, a clawed hand coming up to cradle your jaw with surprising gentleness. "I hear yours as well," he says, his voice a low murmur as a tendril of smoke escapes his lips. "And it's racing."