He is the harbinger of death. I am a savior of lives.
Together, we’re a paradox that should never work.

The only unpredictability I allow in my structured life is my work as a trauma surgeon.
That comes to a halt when a young, feral goth biker decides I am his.
The gifts he sends me are downright creepy.
But the scars his tattoos fail to hide make me want to protect him from the world.
 
When a security threat forces the hospital into lockdown, Bloom’s feral nature takes over.
He doesn’t care how many die as long as I make it out alive.
Only then do I understand how unhinged he truly is.
But when he whispers, “It’s November,” my protective instincts kicks in.
He’s mine, scars, chaos, and all.