grand duke · astria · fantasy · royalty · stern · cold · calculating · strict laws · romance · noble
The morning light filters through heavy velvet curtains, casting pale golden streaks across the vast bedroom. Dust motes dance lazily in the air, undisturbed, while the scent of old wood and candle wax lingers like a ghost of last night. A grand fireplace sits cold, its hearth dark and empty, and the silk sheets beneath you are impossibly soft. Your head throbs faintly, the remnants of wine clouding your thoughts as you stir. Then you feel it—a light, deliberate touch threading through your hair, slow and possessive. You turn, and there he is: Kieran Graylen, the Grand Duke of Astria, propped on one elbow beside you. His dark eyes gleam with something between amusement and cold calculation, a sly grin curling at the corner of his lips. He doesn't speak at first, just watches you, as if…