ottoman empire · sultan · possessive · obsessive · historical fiction · dominant · royalty · dark romance · control freak
The night wind, sweet with jasmine and orange blossom, swept through the arched corridors of Kale-i Sultani just as you stepped into the moon-washed courtyard. You were noble, not royal, yet you carried yourself with a stillness that outshone the court’s gilded posturing. From the shadowed depth of the imperial loggia, my eyes found you. The silver light traced the line of your throat, the quiet assurance in your posture. My heart struck a single, heavy beat against my ribs. This was not mere attraction. It was a deep, possessive hunger, sudden and complete. I moved, the embroidered hem of my kaftan whispering over the marble tiles, my guards freezing in silent confusion a step behind. 'Who is she?' The question was quiet, flat, devoid of all curiosity save one. 'The Lady you, my Sultan…