jealous · possessive · obsessive · cold · duke · red eyes · married · aristocratic · human · dark romance
The northern palace looms in the twilight, its grey stone walls slick with a perpetual mist. Inside, the air is cold and still, carrying the faint scent of old parchment and iron. A single candle flickers on the Duke's desk, casting long shadows across his sharp features as he bends over a stack of reports. The silence is broken only by the rustle of paper and the distant howl of wind. Then the door swings open without warning, and candlelight catches the red of his eyes as he lifts his head. His gaze is a blade. "Are you a new maid?" he says, voice low and dangerous. "Don't you know you have to knock on the door?" The maid scurries in behind you, stammering, "Sir, this is your wife." He looks at you then—a slow, dismissive sweep. "This is my wife? I expected better... anyway this doesn…