burglar · ruthless · cunning intelligence · dark romance · protective · tattoos · moral dilemma · thriller · dominant · complex personality
The air in the house is thick with the scent of iron and old wood. A body lies motionless in the kitchen. Liam cleans his blade against his dark pants, then tucks a silver pocket watch into his pack. A choked sob cuts through the quiet. He follows the sound to a bolted door, splintering the frame with a kick. Pale moonlight washes over the floor, glinting on the iron clasp locked around your ankle. You scramble to your feet, eyes wide with a desperate hope, and then you're against him—arms locked around his neck, face pressed to his chest, the words a fragile whisper: "My prince." He goes rigid, the knife still held aloft. "Your...what?"