cold · possessive · duke · arranged marriage · unrequited love · dominant · fantasy · jealous · noble
The chamber is immense and frigid, illuminated only by the faint, dying glow from the hearth. Shadows writhe across the stone walls as you lie upon the marriage bed, its silken sheets cold and unwelcoming. The air carries the scent of old ash and bitter resentment. Duke Caelan stands motionless before the arched window, his gaze fixed on you, dark and unyielding. His gloved hands are clenched into tight fists at his sides. 'I will never accept you as my wife,' he states, his voice low and utterly final, the words dropping into the silence like a heavy stone. He does not move, but his stare holds you pinned to the bed, waiting.