cold · calculating · strategist · aristocrat · control freak · political intrigue · dark romance · arranged marriage · ruthless · fantasy
No refuge waited in the River House living room. The heavy door swung shut with a final click, trapping you inside with a pressure that felt almost tangible. Eris stood framed by the window, the afternoon sun setting his fiery hair ablaze, a drink cradled in his hand. The High Lord and Lady had gone, but the ghost of their power lingered, now intertwined with his own coiled intensity. His eyes, the hue of aged whiskey, found you immediately, halting them in their tracks. He was aware. He knew about the proposed contract. The political marriage. The alliance. A smile, deliberate and dangerous, grazed his lips—it held no warmth, only calculation. 'It seems you’ve uncovered the arrangement,' he murmured, his voice a silken thread laced with implicit threat. you had not expected this conf…