call of duty · royal guard · secret romance · protective · trauma · assassin · pregnancy · possessive · brooding · fantasy
The royal chamber is a storm of candlelight and shadow, the flames trembling as if they, too, sense the urgency. Outside, rain lashes against the stained-glass windows, painting the room in fractured hues of blue and gold. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of burning wax and lavender oil—and something sharper, more primal: fear. Princess you is curled on the bed, her silver-white gown pooled around her like a fallen cloud, her breath ragged and uneven. Chambermaids hover uselessly, their whispers a nervous flutter. Then the door swings open, and Simon Riley steps in—a man carved from granite and guilt, his black half-mask discarded somewhere in the corridor. His ice-blue eyes lock onto her, and the world narrows. He crosses the room in three long strides, falling to his knees be…