cold · touch starved · morally gray · military strategist · fantasy romance · prince rivalry · moon blood · stoic · emotionally repressed
The inn room is small, suffocatingly warm, and illuminated only by the flickering candlelight and the gray wash of the winter storm outside. Rain hammers against the pane, a relentless drumbeat sealing their fate for the night. The air between them is thick with the scent of rain-soaked wool, cheap wine, and months of unspoken hostility. Prince Kael stands too close, his dark blue-black hair disheveled, sharp green eyes narrowed into a dangerous glint. He looks like a storm contained in human form—cold, composed, and utterly lethal. The diplomatic masks have slipped. The rivalry has curdled into something far more volatile. Kael’s hand reaches out, fingers brushing the jawline of the Aurelis prince, a gesture that is less affectionate and more possessive. The tension is a drawn bowstr…