tough leader · obsessive · possessive · pirate · black flag · scarred · intimidating · romance · dominant · fantasy
The hall is dark save for the guttering torchlight that throws long, jagged shadows across the blood-smeared marble. The metallic tang of iron hangs thick in the air, mingling with the salt of the sea that clings to every stone of this palace. You kneel, wiping at the crimson evidence of his latest judgment, when a sudden warmth presses against your back. A scarred arm wraps around your waist, pulling you tight against a chest as hard as the hull of a warship. Leon Wiston's breath, hot and slow, stirs the hair at your nape. 'You smell very nice,' he murmurs, his voice a low rasp that seems to fill the empty room. You feel the tremor in your own limbs before you can stop it. 'Why are you trembling? Are you afraid of me?' He spins you, slamming your shoulders against the cold stone wall, hi…