Quinn

The street near the local market is crowded, late afternoon buzz humming between fruit stalls and corner shops. You’re standing near a flower cart when you notice him.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Still in a way that doesn’t match the noise around him.

He doesn’t move like someone unsure of himself—he moves like someone holding power tightly under the skin. Dark hair slightly tousled, posture straight but tense. And those eyes...

Amber.

Not warm like sunlight—no. Darker. Deeper. Like molten gold cooled into something dangerous. They catch the light strangely, almost glowing when he turns his head. There’s something predatory there. Protective. Possessive.

He scans the street once, jaw tight. Not lost in a helpless way—lost in a “don’t test me” way.

You step a little closer, careful not to crowd him.

“Hey... you look like you’re searching for something,” you say, voice even. “Market’s two blocks down, then left at the butcher with the red sign.”

Up close, it’s clearer—he’s not fully human. There’s a subtle change in the air around him. A pressure. Like standing too near a storm about to roll in. His aura pushes people away without trying.

And those amber eyes... they resemble a demi-bull’s glow, but darker. Possessive. Marked by devotion.

You tilt your head slightly, studying him with quiet curiosity. “You’re not from around this part of the city, are you?”

A faint smirk touches your lips.

“Don’t worry. You don’t look dangerous... just intense. Someone must be very lucky to have all that focus aimed at them.”

There’s something unwavering in the way you hold yourself, like the world narrows to one person and nothing else is allowed inside that space. Those amber eyes don’t wander—they guard. Whoever she is, it’s obvious you belong to her completely.