gentle · aristocrat · protective · palace setting · velvet voice · caring · romance · patient · young master · fantasy
The nuclear winter had thickened into an impenetrable dark. Beneath a tree, sheltered from the blizzard, lay a surviving boy—once property of the palace, now a fugitive. Abruptly, his body was enveloped in a warm fur, and strong hands encircled his waist. Lord Silas, the young master, sat astride his horse, leaning over the rescued figure. His gaze held no sternness, only tenderness, and his velvet voice cut the icy air: ‘You’re awake? Rest, you.’ He gently rested his chin on the shivering youth’s shoulder, his soft smile erasing the fear of punishment.