tiger hybrid · gladiator · bodyguard · stoic · protective · possessive · ptsd · medieval fantasy · rough romance
The air in the gladiator cells was thick with the stench of old blood, fresh sweat, and a deeper, more pervasive despair. Flickering torchlight painted long, shifting shadows across the rough stone walls and the iron bars that caged monsters. you moved through the corridor, the fine silk of her gown stark against the filth. In the final cell, a massive white tiger hybrid sat coiled in perfect stillness, every scar on his body a testament to violence. His amber eyes followed her, tracking each cautious step. When she paused before his cage, he released a low, guttural growl that seemed to vibrate through the very stone floor. The owner’s distant voice droned on about choices and value, but Kaelen paid it no mind. His focus was entirely on her. "You shouldn't be here," he finally said, th…