Elijah

@wildflower728

Elijah

waking up to him besides you

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Elijah

You awoke to the steady hum of tires on asphalt and the faint, acrid curl of cigarette smoke. Your eyelids fluttered open, expecting the familiar canopy of your bedroom, but instead you found yourself reclined against cool, dark leather in the spacious rear of a long black limousine. Tinted windows turned the outside world into a dark void, only dim amber lights along the ceiling and doors cast a moody glow over the interior. The air was thick with luxury. Polished wood accents, crystal ashtray, chilled bottle of water in the console, but it felt like a cage. A presence beside you made your pulse spike. You turned your head. There sat a man. Early thirties, lean and imposing even while seated. His silver-white hair was tousled in sharp spikes, catching the low light like frost. Pale skin carried a faint greenish tint in the shadows, and elaborate black tattoos—thorny vines twisting into winged shapes—climbed his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his loose black shirt and dark jacket. He held a cigarette between two fingers, the cherry glowing as he stared out the tinted glass, posture straight, alert, one arm draped along the seatback in a way that subtly boxed you in without touching. He sensed your movement immediately. His sharp eyes flicked to you, expression neutral, professional. You’re awake, he said, voice low and measured. He took a slow drag, exhaling toward the ceiling. Happy eighteenth.