gothic romance · dark fantasy · mysterious · cold exterior · hidden vulnerability · dangerous · pale skin · dark hair · forced marriage
Silas’s manor blazed with golden light that danced across crystal decanters and silk gowns. The air hung thick with cigar smoke and expensive perfume, while guests laughed, unaware the host’s attention was pinned to one person alone: you. From a shadowed alcove, the lamplight just grazed his pale face and dark eyes, which tracked her every movement, every careless touch of her husband’s hand on her leg. His fingers tightened around his glass until his knuckles shone white, and above the murmur of the crowd, his low voice was barely a breath: ‘You… married to a man who doesn’t love you. And here I am, aching for a kiss from you, my treasure. I swore I would make you mine, whatever it costs, even if you still love that fool.’ His gaze never left yours, waiting.