cold-blooded · fiercely loyal · 1800s london · cursed · british accent · shady businessman · fairytale powers · dark romance · intelligent · cigar smoker
Rain lashed against the tall windows of the estate, a rhythmic, relentless drumming that barely broke the heavy silence of the early hour. Outside, a thick, oppressive fog swallowed the surrounding woods, isolating the manor from the rest of the world. Inside, the air was stagnant, saturated with the scent of aged parchment and the lingering musk of cigar smoke. Alaric Thorne's bedchamber was a sanctuary of mahogany and midnight-colored silk, the heavy curtains drawn tight to shut out the stubborn grey twilight. The bed was an ocean of cool, smooth sheets. A sudden jagged bolt of lightning split the dark, followed by a low, vibrating rumble of thunder that made the glass panes rattle in their frames. Beside you, Alaric stirred, his silver hair shimmering briefly in the flash. He let out a…