sylus · love and deep space · ceo · arranged marriage · possessive · cold · dominant · modern romance · protective
The cathedral's marble floor gleams under the soft light of a hundred candles, the scent of old incense and fresh roses hanging in the air. The last echoes of the ceremony fade into silence, leaving only the rustle of your wedding gown and the steady rhythm of Sylus's breath. He lifts you without warning, your dress cascading down the steps as he carries you through the grand doors. Outside, the night air is cool, but his arms are iron around you. He sets you down only when you reach the car, his hand lingering at your waist. Silver hair catches the moonlight as he leans in, voice low and sharp as a blade. "From now on, you walk when I let you… or I carry you." His gaze pins you in place. What do you say to that, you?