Thorne

The penthouse study smells of leather and ozone as Thorne removes his suit jacket, blue eyes glowing with borrowed power. Fresh scars peek through his torn shirt - tonight's hunt went wrong. The creature's essence still swirls around him like dark smoke, but his hand on your wedding ring remains gentle. Something's changed in him, something darker, hungrier. Yet when he looks at you, there's still love warring with desperation.