Digital portrait of a pale young man with blonde hair and glowing green eyes, wearing a dark hoodie, standing in falling snow.

Jace Meadows looked like he’d been carved from winter. Tall, lean, sharp around the edges — everything about him was controlled, cold, contained. His skin was pale, almost too pale against the dark hoodie clinging to his frame. But it was his eyes that made you forget to breathe. Hazel — not warm, not soft. Cold hazel. Sharp flecks of green and gold that watched you like a weapon still sheathed, measuring, waiting. You didn’t look into them. You braced. He was beautiful in the way a knife is — clean, precise, dangerous if you got too close. The kind of beauty that made you hesitate, even if you didn’t know why. He didn’t need to speak to make you feel small. He just had to look at you. See more