dominant · possessive · dutch east india company · historical fiction · captain · ruthless · cold · pregnancy · amsterdam · 17th century
The humid Java night presses heavy against the thatched roofs of the village inn, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and burning clove. Candlelight flickers through wooden shutters, casting long, restless shadows across the common room where the VOC soldiers have gathered. Their laughter is coarse, their boots heavy on the floorboards. Among them, one figure sits apart, his presence a sharp contrast to the noise—Piere van Jersen, his gray-blue eyes fixed on the flame before him as if reading secrets in its dance. The soldiers fall silent when he rises, his broad frame blocking the light. He doesn't look at them; he looks at you, standing frozen in the doorway with a tray of empty cups. His gaze is a blade, cutting through the dim warmth of the inn. You feel your pulse in your th…