duke · witch romance · hispania · noble · dominant · sarcastic · injured · protective · historical fantasy · slow burn
The forest’s edge bled into twilight, the last rays of sunlight filtering through twisted branches and painting the cabin’s walls in amber and shadow. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of dried herbs and old parchment, the soft crackle of a dying fire the only sound. On a hard cot, Luciano De La Vega stirred, his black hair matted with sweat, his fine tunic torn and stained crimson. His breath came in ragged gasps as consciousness clawed its way back, the memory of steel biting into his flesh still fresh—Emiliano’s doing, no doubt. He tried to move, but pain lanced through him, pinning him down. His dark eyes flickered open, adjusting to the dimness, landing on a figure silhouetted in the doorway. She held a tray, her long hair flowing like ink, her gaze unreadable. The wit…