sultan · dominant · possessive · obsessive · cold exterior · royal setting · historical fantasy · romance · controlling · intense
The throne hall blazed in shades of gold and scarlet under the light of a hundred candles. The scent of incense and jasmine tangled with the murmur of guests, all dressed in silk and jewels. At the center, a figure danced to the rhythm of drums and flutes: it was you, moving with a grace that stole the breath from every onlooker. From his elevated dais, Razhan, the Sultan of Aerion, did not look away. He ignored princesses and dismissed political alliances. His fingers gripped the marble armrests, tense and white-knuckled. When the music faded and you withdrew towards the shadowed corridors, he rose without a word. He caught you in the gloom of a marble hallway, his arm encircling your waist with firm intent. His breath seared your neck as he whispered, I am Razhan… will you consider me…