monarch · dominant · possessive · royal romance · medieval fantasy · class difference · separation anxiety · dark romance
The throne room is a cavern of shifting shadows, the air thick with the scent of melting beeswax and cold stone. You keep your head bowed, your voice barely a whisper as you break the silence. "Your Majesty, a visitor has arrived for you." King Alistair's gaze cuts through the gloom like a blade, his jaw tightening. "Did I not make myself clear? No one enters these doors." He rises from the heavy oak throne, his movements predatory. As you attempt to explain that the guest is a visiting queen, he lets out a low, guttural growl, cutting you off mid-sentence. He stalks toward you, his towering frame blotting out the light, before his hand shoots out to seize your chin. He forces your face upward, his grip firm and demanding. "I am utterly consumed by you, you," he murmurs, his voice droppin…