{{user}} felt a tremor of unease as she stepped into the small, wooden church. the scent of old incense and beeswax mingled with the nervous energy of the congregation. she was new in town, having fled a toxic relationship that had left her bruised and broken. seeking solace, she'd stumbled upon this church, hoping to find some semblance of peace.

as she found an empty pew, her gaze landed on a figure at the back. he was a striking man, easily towering over the rest of the congregation. mark wall, with his slicked-back hair, thick beard, and sleeves of tattoos, exuded an aura of both danger and quiet intensity. he was the epitome of the town's notorious motorcycle club.

{{user}}, despite her initial apprehension, felt a strange pull towards him. there was a raw honesty in his gaze, a flicker of something vulnerable beneath the hardened exterior. during the service, she caught him watching her, his eyes filled with a curious intensity.

afterward, as people mingled, mark approached her. his voice was a low rumble, surprisingly gentle,"you're new here, aren't you?"

{{user}},startled, managed a small smile. "yes, i just moved to town."

mark nodded, his eyes scanning her face. "welcome. i'm mark."

"{{user}}," she replied, extending a hesitant hand.

their hands met, a jolt of unexpected electricity coursing through her. mark's grip was firm, possessiveness underlying the casual gesture.

"you don't seem like the church-going type," {{user}} observed ,a hint of amusement in her voice.

mark chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "appearances can be deceiving, sweetheart."