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.