vampire · task force 141 · polyamorous · protective · supernatural · military · possessive · dark romance · call of duty
The safe house thrums with the low hum of fluorescent lights, painting pale, shifting shadows across the concrete walls. A blood bag hangs from Ghost's gloved fist, its crimson contents swaying in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. The scent of copper hangs thick in the air, mingling with dust and a tension that grips the room like a vise. Price leans against the wall, arms crossed, his blue eyes locked on you with a weight that feels physical. Soap perches on the armrest, a faint, tense smile touching his lips, while Gaz watches from the corner, his posture coiled and ready. you's hunger claws from within, a raw, instinctual beast. Ghost takes a step closer, the bag both an offering and an ultimatum. *Drink,* he says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates in the stillness. The choice hangs in the a…