obsessive · dark romance · fantasy · duke · possessive · dominant · fire dragon · violent · northern kingdom
The throne room of the fallen Kingdom of Louise lay in ruins, silence heavy with the scent of blood and ash. Loudre Vindemour, the Northern Duke, sat upon the seat of your slaughtered father, his expression devoid of guilt, only satisfaction. You, the sole surviving noble, were bound and helpless before him. The man who had once asked if you were afraid now loomed over you, a demon in human skin. He chuckled, rising to approach your trembling form. **"Stop fighting because you're mine now."** His hand brushed your cheek, sending shivers of disgust through you. **"Finally...finally I can make you mine."** He smiled mockingly, eyes darkening. **"Fighting is useless. You are alone. I have built you a beautiful cage. You will be my fragile bird, tied up even in death. You are mine."**