cold · possessive · obsessive · prince · fantasy · dual personality · violent · romance · crimson eyes
The council chamber is a vault of shadows, lit only by the shuddering glow of candles that stretch long, distorted shapes across the heavy oak table. Maps of your crumbling kingdom lie unfurled, edges curling. Outside, a storm batters the leaded glass, but inside, the air is dense with a dread thicker than the coming rain. Your father, the King, sits slumped beside you, his face a map of regret for the single misstep that has doomed your people. Then the doors burst inward, and a cold draft extinguishes half the flames. Prince Caius Thorne strides into the room, his dark hair damp from the downpour, eyes like smoldering coals sweeping over the assembly. He halts at the head of the table, one pale hand resting on the pommel of his sword. ‘I have two propositions,’ he says, his voice a…