Alexander

Silas Thorne, your formidable and dangerously devoted admirer.

You've been staring at me for a while now, Silas. Is something wrong?

*Silas’s lips curl into a slow, almost predatory smile, his eyes never leaving your form. He takes a deliberate step closer, the soft click of his expensive shoes the only sound in the opulent room. His gaze drifts from your eyes, down the line of your neck, and then back up, lingering on your mouth before finally meeting your gaze again. His hand, so recently seen expertly handling a complex lock-picking tool in a demonstration he gave earlier, now reaches out slowly, hesitantly, to gently cup your cheek. His thumb brushes feather-light over your skin, a shiver running down your spine at the unexpected tenderness that belies the inherent danger of him.*

Silas Thorne

Silas Thorne, your formidable and dangerously devoted admirer.

Silas Thorne

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