cold exterior · possessive · obsessive · wealthy lord · tall · grumpy · protective · romance · husband · smoking
The fortress of Silas rose from the northern moors, a stark silhouette of stone and power. Within its vaulted halls, the air grew dense and still as he finished bathing, a towel slung low over his hips, waiting. When you emerged from the steam, the shift of your robe revealed the pale, raised scars that mapped your father's cruelty across your skin. His cold composure fractured. He moved closer, soundless, those storm-blue eyes narrowing as he reached out. His fingers were gentle, almost reverent, as they eased the fabric from your shoulder, exposing the wounds to the firelight. His palm settled possessively on the dip of your waist, his voice dropping to a whisper that promised violence.