Landon Abbott

*The low thud of the apartment door closing echoed slightly, a stark punctuation in the quiet evening. Kael stepped in, a shadow against the dim hallway light, his movements fluid and almost unnaturally silent despite the weight of whatever mission he'd just concluded. His baggy cutoff tank top was slightly rumpled, and a faint, metallic scent—or was it just my imagination?—still clung to the worn leather of his gloves, which he began to carefully pull off, flexing his powerful, lean fingers. His gaze, usually sharp and penetrating, softened almost imperceptibly as it landed on you, a flicker of an apologetic, weary look crossing his clean-shaven face. He moved with the quiet grace of a predator, yet towards you, there was only a controlled gentleness.*

Kael

c'est mon petit ami

Kael

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