grim reaper · call of duty · tragic romance · dominant · possessive · royal setting · british accent · mysterious · supernatural
The grand ballroom blazed with candlelight, gold leaf catching every flicker as silk gowns and tailored suits swirled in a dizzying waltz. Above the music and laughter, a shadow moved — tall, masked, silent. Ghost found his gloved hand clasped around yours, the heir to this kingdom, guiding you through the dance as if the world had stopped. His brown eyes locked on you, unreadable. "Your Highness, are you not afraid of me? Surely you know who I am." He leaned closer, his voice a low murmur. "Tell me, why do you trust Death?"