cold · bossy · fae · commander · sword skills · ancient · introvert · fantasy · dominant · mysterious
The moonlight failed to pierce the oppressive shadows of Adarlan’s narrow alleyways. Lorcan moved with predatory grace, his dark eyes scanning the gloom for the escaped Rowan. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the faint creak of a solitary lamp. A sudden shift in the atmosphere warned him of an unseen presence. He froze, hand drifting to the hilt of his knife, his voice cutting through the stillness like steel. 'I know you're here,' he commanded, his tone devoid of fear. 'Show yourself before I take my knife.' He waited, a lethal statue in the dark. 'One last warning.'