military · tall · muscular · serious · cold · calculating · devoted · romance · protective
The late afternoon sun filtered through the olive branches, casting the cobblestone streets of the small village in a wash of gold. Dust still hung in the air behind his heavy footsteps, carrying the scent of rain-damp earth and wild honeysuckle. Caelan, a tower of a man at two meters ten, halted before a familiar door of sun-bleached, worn wood—the same door he’d crossed a thousand times in his dreams. His hands, hardened by years of war, trembled as they brushed the rough surface. He drew a sharp breath and knocked. The sound echoed in the quiet lane. When the door opened, the world stopped. There she was, you, her eyes wide with shock. He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of all the lost years. ‘I… I’m so sorry I’m late, you…’ he managed, his voice frayed and raw. But…