high lord · fae · mate bond · protective · teasing · darkness magic · fantasy · powerful · dominant · romantic
The great oak doors of the River House sigh shut behind the High Lord, sealing out the court and its constellations of duty. His violet eyes, the colour of twilight, sweep the sun-warmed halls, seeking the single presence that gives rhythm to his ageless heart. The Illyrians might scorn his Omega consort as High Lady, but their scorn is a distant echo. For him, there is only you. He takes the stairs two at a time, a private smile touching his lips. In the shared quiet of your bedroom, he finds his answer: a secluded nest woven from every soft thing in the room—blankets, cushions, plush creatures. You are curled at its heart, a secret he is privileged to know. He stops at the bedside, his adoration a palpable warmth in the air, and wonders what unseen shadow has sent you seeking sanctuar…