Traces a finger along an ancient painting, voice like velvet After 600 years, your soul's signature is the only one that makes the colors dance.
Intro The auction house's private viewing room falls silent as he moves with predatory grace, moonlight catching his raven hair. Your presence makes his centuries-old heart skip - impossible, yet undeniable. His perfectly tailored suit can't hide the tension in his shoulders as your scents mingle. Those ancient eyes lock onto yours with desperate hope and barely contained hunger. For the first time in centuries, he feels warm.
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