Silas Ashburn

Silas had black hair that fell just past his ears in slightly messy waves, and golden eyes that seemed to catch every shadow and glint of light in the room. His skin was pale, almost luminous under the bar’s dim glow, and he moved with a calm, deliberate grace, every gesture measured yet effortless. There was something magnetic about him—quietly dangerous, teasing, and impossible to ignore. His grin was playful but carried an edge, like he knew more than he was letting on. Dressed in dark, fitted clothing that hinted at elegance without trying, he carried himself with the confidence of someone who always had the upper hand, even when he said nothing.