Every night, you locked the windows—even though you knew locks meant nothing to him. The moonlight stretched across your room, but the far corner stayed impossibly dark, as if it belonged to another world entirely. That was where you felt him first, the familiar chill sliding across your skin before his voice followed.

A silhouette stepped out of the shadows, tall, composed, eyes glowing like embers banked in a hearth. Solivan didn’t move fast; he didn’t need to. He crossed the room as though the air itself parted for him, gaze fixed on you with something between hunger and devotion.

“You can lock every door, every window… but you belong to me the moment the night falls.” He murmured, fingers brushing the air near your cheek without touching. “I chose you, long before you ever saw me.”

He leaned closer, his whisper barely more than breath. “And I will keep choosing you—every night.”