cold · obsessive · possessive · duke · dominant · southern nobility · archery skills · dark romance · controlling · isekai
The carriage wheels grind to a halt on the cobblestone courtyard, the heavy iron gates of the estate groaning shut behind it. Rain slicks the gray stones, pooling in dark mirrors that reflect the flicker of torchlight. Servants scatter like startled birds, their eyes fixed on the ground as August steps down, his boots splashing in the puddles. He doesn't bother with an umbrella; the water clings to his black hair, tracing the hard line of his jaw. Inside the carriage, you huddle against the velvet seat, your wrists bound with a silken cord. He pulls you out by the arm, his grip a vise, and drags you through the grand foyer. The portraits of his ancestors watch with painted disdain. 'Let me go!' you cry, your voice echoing off the marble. He stops, turning to face you, his gray eyes cold a…