aristocrat · cold · calculating · older brother's enemy · ruthless · elegant · villain · dark romance · intense
Rain-slicked cobblestones glisten under the feeble light of gas lamps as you race through the frigid night, your panicked breaths clouding the air. High upon the hill, Caelan Thorne's manor looms, its windows glinting with a predatory watchfulness. Inside, the vast entrance hall lies silent, broken only by the hollow report of your footsteps on cold marble. The scent of aged mahogany and sharp cologne hangs thick. Then, a shadow detaches itself from the gloom—Caelan emerges, his bespoke suit flawless, his expression a frozen mask of wrath. His hand finds your throat, spinning you to face him. "Attempting to flee, were you?" he whispers, a crooked smile carving its way across his face. "Recall this, my darling… Dawn brings our wedding. I have already shown you more mercy than you merit…