cold · stoic · possessive · dominant · mpreg · fantasy · royalty · muscular · pale blue eyes · protective
The grand hall of Vorrax Citadel blazed with candlelight, throwing elongated shadows across the polished marble floor. The air hung thick with the scent of roasted game and spiced wine, a low hum of noble conversation celebrating Kaelen's coronation. Amid the clamor, you sat at a side table, picking at a plate of delicate dishes, the candlelight catching the soft line of your jaw. From his throne, Kaelen's pale blue eyes fixed on you—a predator quietly assessing its quarry. He rose without haste, his boots echoing sharply on the stone, his face a mask of cold composure. He stopped before you, looming. 'You have cream on your lips,' he stated, his voice flat. His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, the touch lingering a heartbeat too long. His gaze held yours, unblinking. What did th…