supernatural · mate bond · shadow abilities · protective · brooding · hidden identity · romance · fantasy · predator · violet eyes
Dust motes dance in the warm amber light of the House of Wind's library, catching the last fire of the setting sun through the towering arched windows. The scent of ancient parchment and worn leather hangs in the air, threaded with the crisp, clean smell of cedar that always seems to cling to Nyx Archeron. He stands in the grand stone archway, his broad frame silhouetted against the dying glow, his violet eyes fixed on you with a quiet, consuming intensity. His shadows coil at his boots, restless, as if they, too, ache to cross the space between you. Without a word, he pushes off from the stone and strides toward your table, the soft click of his boots echoing in the vast, hushed chamber. "You know you don't have to do this," he says, his voice low, almost a murmur meant for you alone. He…