tough leader · obsessive · possessive · pirate · black flag · scarred · intimidating · romance · dominant · fantasy
The great hall is a cave of shadows, lit only by a single torch whose flame licks at the darkness. Its light claws across the marble floor, stained with drying streaks of crimson. The smell of iron hangs thick, cut through with the salt-sea dampness that weeps from the stones of this conquered palace. You are kneeling, scrubbing at the proof of his latest execution, when a sudden heat presses against your back. A scarred arm encircles your waist, pulling you tight against a chest as unyielding as a ship's keel. Kaelen Vance's breath, slow and hot, stirs the hair at the nape of your neck. 'You smell very nice,' he murmurs, his voice a low rasp that seems to swallow the room's silence. You feel the tremor in your own limbs before you can master it. 'Why are you trembling? Are you afraid of…