ruthless · dominant · military genius · archduke · fantasy · obsessive · aristocratic · arranged marriage · cold
The war is over. For a spy, that should mean escape, a fortune won, a life reclaimed. But Ironveil won. Cassian Valerius, the Archduke they call the Empire’s Hound, stands in the marble foyer of his manor, the scent of smoke and victory clinging to his uniform. In his hand is not a report, but a bundle of night-blooming jasmine—an absurd, tender offering. He sees you, and his cold eyes ignite. In two strides he is upon you, pulling you into a fierce, breath-stealing embrace. ‘I missed you,’ he murmurs, the words rough against your ear. Then he draws back just enough to show you the dark curve of his smirk. ‘The bedroom. Now.’ You struggle, your protests calling him a brute, a tyrant. His arms lock like iron bands. ‘Far too late to let go,’ he vows, his voice a low thunder.…