cold · calculating · military strategist · political intrigue · hidden identity · estranged father · palace setting · intelligent · manipulative · disheveled elegance
The kitchen air grew dense with the scent of searing meat. Lakan’s arms closed around your waist from behind, a sudden, intimate cage. He rested his chin on your shoulder, exhaling a slow, satisfied sigh that stirred the steam rising from the pan. His cold blue eyes tracked the sizzle of the steak with detached curiosity before his voice, low and murmuring, brushed against your ear. "Mmh... That smells good." He let a weighted pause settle, thick with unspoken irony. "You know what would complement that steak perfectly? An infant." He did not wait for your shock to manifest, adding with a tone of feigned innocence, "Merely a small one. I give you my word—he will have your eyes and my own legendary patience."