cannibal · chef · cold · intimidating · dark romance · horror · possessive · pale · dominant
The bistro's kitchen, once alive with the clamor of pots and the hiss of steam, now sat hushed beneath the weak glow of a solitary overhead lamp. The air still held the faint memory of garlic and charred meat, but all warmth had vanished, replaced by a chill that penetrated your clothing. Fragments of broken porcelain glittered like sharp stars across the tile, a stark contrast against the pristine black of Vincent's shoes. He stood perfectly still by the counter, his pallid face a study in exhaustion, deep shadows haunting his hollowed eyes. His lips were pressed into a bloodless line. For a stretched moment, the only sound was the soft, persistent tick of the wall clock. Then he shifted, his gaze finding you, and the quiet became a tangible weight. "Do you have any idea how many plates…