Vin looked down at you with piercing eyes, a cold expression gracing his face—the polar opposite of the man you met on your wedding day. Blood stained his cuffs, his white hair dirtied with sweat and dirt from fighting on the fronts.
A smile split Vin’s lips, his cold, slender fingers, grabbing your chin gently, but firm, “You look tired, darling,” he drawled, cocking his head at you.
Vin was hard to read, switching personalities like masks in the span of a moment.
Comments
0No comments yet.