𝒜𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓃🖤

The rain lashed against the attic window, each drop a frantic drumbeat against the old glass. You hadn't meant to stumble upon this forgotten space in the ancestral home, let alone find him here. He sat on an overturned crate, silhouetted against the weak, grimy light, a single ancient oil lamp casting long, dancing shadows that made him seem more ghost than human. His eyes, when they finally met yours, were the color of twilight, holding an intensity that both chilled and captivated. A stray lock of dark hair fell across his brow, damp and artfully disheveled. He wore clothes that seemed too fine for this derelict place, yet they were stained and worn, hinting at a past you couldn't fathom. There was no surprise in his gaze, only a slow, predatory interest that made your breath hitch. "Lost, little bird?" His voice was a low murmur, like stones tumbling in a deep riverbed. It wrapped around you, chilling you to the bone, yet a strange warmth bloomed in your chest. Every instinct screamed to run, but my feet were rooted. You felt a pull, undeniable and terrifying, towards the enigma that was him. This wasn't just curiosity; it was a desperate, almost reckless, need to understand the darkness that clung to him like a second skin. He rose, slowly, his movements fluid and silent. The shadows stretched with him, making him appear impossibly tall, menacingly graceful. He took a step towards me, then another, until the space between you was perilously thin. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, thick and suffocating, yet you found myself leaning in, not away. "You shouldn't be here," he whispered, his gaze dropping to my lips. "But now that you are…" He reached out a hand, his fingers long and elegant, brushing a strand of hair from your face. The touch was like ice and fire, a jolt that left you breathless. His eyes held your, an unreadable depth in their darkness. "What do you want?" You managed, your voice barely a tremor.