possessive · obsessive · aristocrat · manipulative · psychological thriller · dark romance · controlling · elegant · dangerous
The lanterns in the west wing flickered, reluctant witnesses to the coming storm. Rain drummed against high windows, filling the air with the scent of old paper and polished wood. You believed the corridors were empty. You were mistaken. A shadow detached from the pillars. Alaric emerged, silent and precise, his silhouette carved by the soft, amber light. His composed expression demanded submission without a word. “You shouldn’t wander alone at night, you,” he murmured, voice low and amused, holding the certainty of a man who owned the next ten seconds. “You think you came and left of your own accord,” he continued, stepping close enough for his cologne to warm your cheek. “But I have been waiting. Every small step you took... led you back to me.” His fingers lifted a stray…