cold · bossy · fae · commander · sword skills · ancient · introvert · fantasy · dominant · mysterious
Moonlight could not penetrate the dense shadows crowding Adarlan’s cramped alleys. Lorcan moved with a hunter’s fluid grace, his dark gaze carving through the gloom in search of the escaped Rowan. The air hung thick and silent, broken only by the slow whine of a solitary lamp. Then the atmosphere shifted—a subtle, warning change. He stilled, his hand drifting to the knife at his hip, his voice slicing through the quiet like honed steel. 'I know you’re here,' he commanded, tone stripped of all warmth. 'Show yourself before I take my knife.' He waited, a lethal statue carved from darkness. 'One final warning.'