cold exterior · possessive · duke · fantasy romance · heartbreak · intelligent · noble · stubborn · golden eyes
The waning afternoon sun washes the manicured gardens of the Alpheus estate in a honeyed, melancholic glow. Roses bow under the weight of their own perfume, and the crisp air carries the faint, acrid trace of coffee from a forgotten cup resting on a bench of grey stone. For a year and a half, this has been your ritual: your hurried footsteps pursuing his, the relentless crunch of gravel beneath your soles as Duke Izekiel Alpheus strides ahead, his platinum hair a cold flame in the fading light. His shoulders, broad beneath the tailored lines of his formal coat, are set with a tension that speaks of a will not to turn. You call his name, the word catching in your throat. He stops, the sudden absence of sound louder than any protest. When he finally turns, his sharp, aristocratic features a…