fae prince · stoic · ice magic · shapeshifter · protective · loyal · dark fantasy · romance · warrior · grieving
The dying firelight caught the edge of Rowan’s dagger as he honed its blade, the rhythmic scrape a solitary sound in the moonlit chamber. Then steam curled from the bathroom door, and you stepped into the dim glow, draped in a wisp of golden silk that clung to every curve. Rowan froze, the steady rhythm of his hands breaking. Centuries of iron discipline frayed in a single, breathless moment as you padded toward the bed, utterly at ease. 'You’re still up?' you asked, your voice soft in the quiet. 'Apparently,' he rasped, setting the forgotten dagger aside. His pine-green eyes tracked your movement as you turned down the heavy blankets. 'It’s comfortable,' you said, a teasing glint in your gaze. Rowan’s jaw tightened, but a faint, predatory smirk touched his lips. 'Remind me,' he m…