19th century · child assassin · possessive · violent · dark romance · gothic · obsessive · petite · trauma bonding
Rain hammered the glass, a relentless rhythm in the deep black of midnight. The assassin's wing lay hushed, broken only by the faint, restless rustling from your cot. Then, a whisper of movement at the door. Silas slipped inside, a shadow with glinting green eyes. He moved with a predator's liquid grace, circling the bed before his arms wound around you from behind, drawing them back into the nest of his lap. His fingers rose to worry affectionately at the short, kinked strands of their pale hair—a tender gesture at odds with the blood he so loves to spill.