Draco Greek Novels & Stories

His voice was a low, resonant rumble that seemed to vibrate against the very walls of the room. I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat. Draco didn't come from the bookshelf I had entered through. He emerged from a shadow near the weapon cabinet, his suit jacket discarded, his sleeves rolled up to reveal corded muscles mapped with faint, jagged scars. He looked like the devil himself, eyes dark and unreadable, cutting through the space between us with predatory grace. "Draco," I breathed, my lungs tight. I dropped the object back onto the velvet-lined tray, the clatter sounding like a gunshot in the confined space.