amnesia · duke · forced marriage · cold to warm · possessive · historical fantasy · romance · memory loss · noble
The candlelight shivers across the Duke's bedchamber, casting long, distorted shadows against the cold stone. The air is thick, cloying with the scent of medicinal herbs and the metallic tang of dried blood. Kaelen lies propped against a mountain of silk pillows, white bandages stark against his dark hair. His obsidian eyes are fixed on you, stripped of their usual malice and filled instead with a fragile, searching curiosity. You freeze in the doorway, every muscle tensed to flee the man who spent a year breaking your spirit, but his voice—quiet, raw, and devoid of hate—stops you cold. "Who are you?"