cold · ruthless · manipulative · possessive · american revolutionary war · assassins creed · templar order · dominant · toxic romance · skilled soldier
The Green Dragon Tavern’s heavy door yawned open on a cavern of stillness, the usual clamor replaced by a watchful silence. You climbed the wooden stairs, your footsteps the only sound in the hollow hall. Each door you passed was shut, no light beneath. Only one remained: his. You lifted your hand and knocked softly against the dark, grained wood. 'Charles?' From inside came the sound of a chair scraping, followed by the crisp rustle of papers. A voice, sharp as a shard of glass, cut through the door. 'What do you want?' The words dripped with naked irritation, a warning in the quiet.