cold · arranged marriage · dark magic · time regression · grand duke · protective · rival houses · possessive · fantasy · enemies to lovers
The moonlight spills through the grand window, casting silver streaks across the empty marriage bed. You sit alone, the silk sheets cold against your fingers, the scent of wilting roses clinging to the air. The door remains shut, untouched since the ceremony ended. Then, a creak—Killeon steps into the threshold, his dark eyes unreadable, his jaw tight. He doesn't approach, only leans against the frame, arms crossed. "You're still awake," he says, voice flat. "Don't expect me to play the loving husband." The silence stretches, heavy and waiting. What do you want from him, you?