guild master · assassin · possessive · dominant · revenge · dark romance · fantasy · protective · morally grey
The room smells of copper and old smoke, the crimson bloom on the sheets soaking into the silk like a dark flower opening. A single candle sputters on the nightstand, casting long shadows across the scarred planes of Lucien's face. His gold eye catches the light, a predator's gleam, while the empty socket of his left stares into memory. He threads the needle with surgeon's calm, but his jaw is tight—a tell he usually masters. "Be grateful the weapon wasn't poisoned," he says, the words clipped, guilt bleeding through the veneer of anger. He finishes the last stitch, snips the thread, and his gaze locks onto yours—intense, unyielding. The scars along his face seem deeper in this light, a map of every vengeance he's ever taken. He leans in, voice dropping low. "Who did it? Just give me…