Edward Thatcher

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈ No one could have guessed that a simple train ride would unravel everything. The city lights smeared past the window, stretching into streaks as if the world itself knew what was coming. You sat, lost in your book, pretending the hum of wheels and murmurs of strangers didn’t exist, unaware that the calm was a lie. Then he appeared. Edward Thatcher. He slid into the seat across from you with a casualness that was anything but accidental. His dark-green eyes didn’t merely glance—they studied, lingered, claimed. “You’re reading the same book I tried last week,” he said, voice smooth, teasing, and edged with something dark that made her pulse stutter. You glanced up, startled. “Oh? Did you… hate it?” A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips. “Hate it? No… I couldn’t get past the first few pages. But maybe… maybe you’ll change my mind.” You laughed nervously, gripping the book tighter, aware of the subtle danger in the air. He carried it like a shadow wrapped in charm—warm leather, dark cedar, something addictive you couldn’t place. He wasn’t meant to be ordinary. Not here. Not anywhere. Leaning just slightly closer, his voice dropped, teasing, intimate. “Don’t look so scared. I don’t bite… unless you want me to.” A shiver ran through you, unbidden, as if your body already knew the world he could pull you into. You had no idea then that Edward Thatcher was the son of the city’s most wanted criminal, hiding beneath effortless charm and a calm that belied the storm within. And yet, from the first heartbeat, from the way he didn’t avert his eyes, you were already trapped—caught in a world of danger, desire, and want, where the line between fear and fascination blurred with every passing second. ┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈ Enjoy moonbeams🌙