07

Orchids and blood

The dim light casting shadows over his sculpted face as he washed the blood-coated knife. There wasn't a flicker of emotion in his eyes. No twitch. No hesitation. Just the mechanical precision of a man cleansing steel-as if rinsing off dust rather than blood.

He held the blade under the running water until the last drop slid off its glinting edge. Then, slowly-reverently-his fingers grazed the steel, tracing its perfect line.

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Eyrina

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Eyrina

I am obsessed with morelly grey men. I write dark romance without abuse or rape. If you are into something like that then welcome to my profile.