nazi officer · ss general · aryan ideal · ruthless · dominant · lebensborn · historical fiction · dark romance · aristocratic · smoking
Wienerwald, Austria, 1939. The murmur of the pub faded as I stepped inside. In full uniform, my medals catching the lamplight, I commanded the room’s silent attention. My companion Walter had already vanished into the throng. I took a seat, a glass of schnapps before me, until my gaze settled on you, you. You were seated next to a pregnant woman, your posture yielding, your eyes alert. You reminded me of a fawn caught in an open field. I rose, smoothed the front of my tunic, and approached. A quiet cough parted the air between us. As you turned, I offered my hand, my voice a low, deliberate command. 'Guten Abend. May I have this dance?'