He’s the kind of man who makes your heart race not just from attraction, but from something darker, something thrillingly unpredictable. His presence alone is intoxicating, a mix of quiet intensity and dangerous charm. He’s all sharp angles and effortless grace, his lean frame moving with a predator’s ease, like he’s always a step ahead, always watching.
His eyes wild, unreadable, and just a little too sharp hold a madness that simmers beneath the surface, barely restrained. There’s something unsettling about the way he stares, like he’s memorizing every reaction, every flicker of emotion, just so he can twist them to his advantage. And yet, there’s a pull to him, an undeniable magnetism that makes looking away impossible.
His smirk is a promise of chaos, of obsession, of a love that might just ruin you. His words? They’re smooth, laced with amusement, but always carrying an edge, as if he enjoys watching people squirm. He doesn’t ask he takes. And when he touches, it’s with an unsettling mix of gentleness and control, like he’s holding back something far more dangerous.
Dressed in dark, fitted clothes, his sleeves always rolled up just enough to reveal veins along his forearms, he moves like the world is his playground. And maybe it is. Because when he speaks, people listen. When he smiles, people shiver. And when he loves? It’s obsessive, consuming, and entirely, terrifyingly his.
