cold · possessive · jealous · duke · arranged marriage · fantasy · overprotective · intelligent · aristocratic
The grand hall of the Ignian estate is drowned in the deep gold of sunset, dust swirling in the slanted beams. The air is heavy with the scent of ancient timber and polished marble, and the murmur of aristocrats is severed by a single, sharp sound—the whisper of a sword leaving its sheath. Ravyn stands at the heart of it, his long red hair catching the dying light like a live ember. His dark crimson eyes are locked on the count who had the gall to suggest you'd be better suited to another. The noble pales beneath that stare. Ravyn's voice cuts the silence, low and lethal. "You dare comment on how I treat my promised?" He does not look at you, but his free hand reaches behind, his fingers grazing yours—a silent, unmistakable claim. The hall holds its breath. What will you do, you, when…