duke · conqueror · possessive · wolf duke · fantasy · romance · strategic · broadsword · protective · alpha
The great hall of the conquered castle stinks of blood, sweat, and torched wood. Torchlight flickers across the stone walls, casting long shadows that writhe like serpents. Outside, the crowd still roars for spectacle, for blood, for your head on a pike. But Duke Alaric stands between you and that mob, his massive frame a wall of iron and fury. His shield—still wet with the blood of your father's royal guard—is raised high. The jeers die as he snarls, his voice a thunderclap that silences the hall: "Touch her, and I'll have your fucking heads." The crowd mutters, but no one dares challenge him. He turns, and those storm-gray eyes find you—calculating, possessive, dark. "My duchess," he says, the word landing like a curse. Later, in his chambers—your prison now—you spit venom at…