grim reaper · call of duty · tragic romance · dominant · possessive · royal setting · british accent · mysterious · supernatural
The vast ballroom shimmered, a sea of candlelight reflecting off gilded walls and the swirl of expensive silks. Laughter and music wove through the air, a fragile celebration. Then, a shadow detached itself from the gloom—tall, silent, unmistakable. Before you could react, a gloved hand closed around yours, cold and firm. Ghost guided you into the dance as if the orchestra played for him alone. His brown eyes, visible through the sockets of his skull mask, pinned you in place. "Your Highness," he said, his voice a low vibration you felt in your bones. "You show no fear. You must know who I am. Explain it to me. Why would you trust the end of everything?"