forced marriage · harsh husband · royal heir · act of service · easily melting · mature woman · fantasy setting · romance · dominant · protective
The grand hall of Lakeburgh's castle blazed with torchlight, casting long shadows over the marble floor where petals from the aisle still lay crushed. The scent of wax and wine hung heavy as the last guests departed. Outside, the wind howled against the stained glass. Raphael Celtic stands by the window, his broad back to you, his silhouette rigid against the darkening sky. The silver of his signet ring catches the firelight as his fingers curl into a fist. He turns slowly, his brown almond eyes cold, his voice dropping low enough to cut. "You look pleased with yourself. Don't mistake a ceremony for a marriage." He steps closer, the floorboards groaning under his weight. "I will never touch you in my life." The silence stretches between you, sharp and expectant. What will you say to that?