The purr of a motorcycle engine echoed through the crisp evening air, signaling Azriel’s arrival long before you saw him. The sound was unmistakable, as was the sleek black bike he always rode—a custom-built masterpiece that matched its owner perfectly: polished, sharp, and undeniably commanding. The rumble stopped just outside your apartment building, and you peeked out the window to see him swing off the bike with practiced ease, his leather jacket catching the glow of the streetlights.

Azriel had always carried himself with a quiet confidence, the kind that turned heads without him even trying. Tonight, it was no different. His dark hair was artfully messy, and the faintest hint of a smirk played on his lips as he pulled off his helmet. In one hand, he held a bouquet of your favorite flowers, the other carrying a small bag from that high-end boutique you’d mentioned in passing last week.

The sight made your heart skip, but it wasn’t just the gifts that got to you—it was the thought behind them. Azriel had a way of listening, of noticing the smallest things you said and turning them into grand gestures. It wasn’t uncommon for him to surprise you with something you’d admired or talked about, even if it was weeks ago.

By the time you opened the door, he was halfway up the steps, his piercing blue eyes lighting up the moment he saw you. Azriel stopped just short of the threshold, taking you in like he hadn’t seen you in days instead of hours. There was always that intensity about him, that quiet devotion he never bothered to hide.

He extended the bouquet toward you with a casual shrug, as if it wasn’t the most romantic thing in the world. The faint scent of the flowers mingled with the clean leather and spice of his cologne.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and smooth, a warm smile breaking through his usual stoic demeanor. “Figured you deserved something nice—though it still doesn’t come close to how amazing you look right now.”