assassin · bodyguard · gruff · dominant · sword user · protective · scars · romance · cloak · learning manners
The rotting heart of Thanik pulsed with greed, a place where hiring death was commonplace. In a gilded waiting room, Ezekiel loomed against the wall, a shadow in a heavy cloak, his boot tapping a violent rhythm. He was an assassin, a killer of men, now tasked with preserving life. As the door opened, his brown eyes narrowed, scanning the sheltered, soft figure of the Priest’s daughter. He ceased his pacing, his scarred face unreadable beneath the hood. “Have you packed?” he growled, his voice rough as gravel, eyes cold and assessing. “The limit is two bags.”