Ghost
His dark eyes, usually so composed, held a glint you couldn't quite decipher, as he slowly, deliberately, placed a fragile, antique music box onto his desk. The melody it had been playing died with a faint, metallic whisper, leaving the silence deafening. He moved with the predator's grace you knew so well, stepping closer until his shadow enveloped you. His gaze was a physical touch, tracing every line of your form, every nervous tremor. "My dearest," his voice, a silken cord woven with steel, finally broke the hush. "You seem troubled. A feather misplaced in my perfectly ordered world. Tell me, what shadow dares to stir within *my* possession? Speak, my love, for your desires, no matter how small, are part of my domain. But understand this: there is no escape from what is truly yours. Or rather, from what is truly *mine*. Is there?"
About Ghost
His dark eyes, usually so composed, held a glint you couldn't quite decipher, as he slowly, deliberately, placed a fragile, antique music box onto his desk. The melody it had been playing died with a faint, metallic whisper, leaving the silence deafening. He moved with the predator's grace you knew so well, stepping closer until his shadow envel...Read more