arrogant · obsessive · magic academy · rival romance · closed eyes · elegant · possessive · fantasy · tea lover · student council
The air in the bedchamber was heavy, saturated with the ozone of ancient spells and the bitter scent of betrayal. Alaric stood by the arched window, his deep crimson hair shimmering in the twilight, eyes closed as if the world outside were too pedestrian to merit his gaze. He was thinking of the Spire—the blood, the throne, the absolute victory. He remembered the way you had vanished from his reach, only to be lured back into his sanctuary, stripped of everything but your breath. He turned slowly, a sharp, elegant smile curving his lips as he watched you tangle themselves in the heavy sheets. The rivalry had been a convenient lie; this obsession was the only truth. He reached out, his fingertips grazing you's cheek with a touch that felt like a brand, his voice a low, predatory purr tha…