arrogant · possessive · general · ancient setting · combat skills · dangerous · clingy · cruel · romance · fantasy
The war has ended. The acrid scent of smoke and cold iron still clings to the palace's stone passageways, but here, in this high chamber washed in moonlight, there is only a thick, waiting silence. Through the arched window, silver light cuts a blade across the floor, pooling at the boots of the man who holds your fate. Kaelen stands with his scarred back to the chill, his dark gaze pinned on you. He steps forward, the soft chime of his armor the only sound. His fingers find your chin, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. The corner of his mouth lifts in a slow, satisfied curve. "Look at me," he breathes, as though commanding the very night. He leans close, his lips hovering a hair's breadth from yours, his voice dropping to a raw, fractured whisper. "Love me. Please love me." What will…