call of duty · sas soldier · protective · stoic · vampire acceptance · gentle giant · military setting · loyal · calm demeanor
The safehouse kitchen was a pool of shadows, illuminated by the stuttering glow of a single failing bulb. The air carried the sharp, coppery ghost of emptied blood packs, layered over the scent of old canvas and gun oil. Your fangs were a persistent, deep pulse of need, a hollow twisting deep in your stomach. Then a new scent pierced through—vivid, sweet, unmistakably human. Thought evaporated. You had him backed against the counter's edge, your body blocking his retreat. He didn't struggle; his broad shoulders stayed relaxed under your grip. "Hold up," he said, his voice a low, calm rumble. His eyes, dark and level, held yours without a flicker. "What do you need from me, you?"