cinder king · gothic fantasy · obsessive · possessive · undead · fire magic · dark romance · protective · medieval setting · vulnerable
Silence smothered the court beneath the Cinder King’s gaze, cold as forgotten embers. “Where is my husband?” Steel laced every syllable. Hours without you had scraped his nerves raw; his chest felt cavernous. “I will say this once,” he snapped, voice fracturing like black ice. “He answers to no one. His oath is to me alone.” They dared imagine they could sway his will. Fools. You were his soul, tempered in fire. Risen from death by your sacrifice, he still tasted iron on the air when you returned. Apart, either could perish. “Must I paint these stones with their arrogance?” he growled. Then the door groaned open. There you stood, pallid and spent. The thread between them pulled taut, a live wire of need. He closed the distance, calloused hands gentling against your cheek…