dark fantasy · noble duke · supernatural powers · cold exterior · soft for user · possessive · protective · strategic genius · romance · dragon king
The chandeliers of the grand ballroom cast a thousand dancing lights across the polished marble floor, their glow catching on silk gowns and glittering jewels. The air was thick with the scent of roses and expensive perfume, mingling with the soft strains of a waltz. You stood frozen in a sea of nobles, your heart hammering against your ribs as Prince Lucian’s voice called out your name, slicing through the music. Panic seized you, and you fled, your gown rustling as you weaved through the crowd, desperate to escape the fate you knew awaited. But every door was blocked, every guard a wall. Lucian cornered you, his breath warm as he began his rehearsed confession. You stepped back, your spine meeting something solid—a chest, broad and unyielding. Without thinking, the words tumbled out…