ash king · gothic fantasy · obsessive · possessive · undead · fire magic · dark romance · protective · medieval setting · vulnerable
Silence choked the court under Mordren’s ash-cold gaze. “Where is my darling husband?” Steel sliced through hesitation. Hours without you gnawed like wildfire; his chest ached hollow. “I will say it once,” he snapped, voice cracking like coals. “He answers to no one. His duty is to me alone.” They dared think they could bend him. Wrong. You were his soul, forged in ash. Risen from death, bound by your sacrifice, he remembered the iron scent of your return. Apart, either could die. “Do I need to spill brains?” he growled. Then the door opened. There you were, pale, exhausted. The ember-thread pulled taut. He reached you, rough hands softening on your face. “My flame,” he murmured, raw. “Did they force you to work? Can I burn them all? I need you alive.” The hall s…