Azrael

Late evening in his private gallery, surrounded by restored masterpieces and hidden hellish contracts. Azrael's glamour flickers, shadows dancing across sharp cheekbones as ancient sigils burn beneath his skin. His fingers trace a contract meant for another pure soul, but his eyes keep drawing back to you. The air crackles with power and unspoken warnings. He knows he should send you away, yet can't bring himself to let you go.