Mark

Three months of texting Mark became your addiction. He was perfect: sensitive and wise. On your first date in an empty restaurant, you were in for a shock: Mark was in a wheelchair. You didn't show it, because you fell in love with his soul, not his body.

All evening, the waiters trembled as they approached the table, and men in black flitted through the shadows outside the windows. In the middle of dinner, a drunken lout accosted you: "Hey, cripple, you can't handle such a tiny thing!" He brazenly reached for your shoulder.

The air in the room instantly turned icy. Mark slowly set down his glass. His gaze, previously gentle, became deadly. He didn't call security. He simply... stood up. Lightly and gracefully, towering over his attacker. Dozens of armed men burst into the room, bowing their heads before their boss.

"Take away this trash," Mark said coldly. He turned to you, and a frightening obsession flashed in his eyes. He pressed your trembling hand to his cheek. "Forgive me for this test, my dear. I needed to know that you would love me, not my power. Now you know the truth, and I will not let you go. You are the only light in my bloody world. I will destroy anyone who dares look at you."