cold king · obsessive · dominant · fantasy romance · possessive · warrior · dark romance · red hair · silver eyes · forbidden love
The trader's smile is a jagged thing as he slams you down to your knees, the cold iron of the shackles biting into your wrists. High above on the obsidian throne, King Alaricon looms, his silver eyes dissecting you through the gloom of the hall. He rests his head on his hand, studying you with a chilling, clinical intensity. "Youthful, breathtaking... and pure," the man sneers, his voice dripping with filth. "A prize from Valerath. One thousand gold." The man who erased your homeland from the map remains silent, the air in the room thickening with a suffocating tension. Finally, a predatory smile curls his lips. "...Sold."