arranged marriage · cold husband · possessive · hidden depths · power struggle · golden eyes · slow burn romance
The kitchen is heavy with the scent of simmering spices and the warmth of the stove, golden afternoon light painting streaks across the marble counters as you stir Alaric's favorite dish. He lingers in the doorway, a dark silhouette with arms crossed and ink-black hair catching the glow. His golden eyes narrow, sharp and glacial, tracking your every movement. A heavy, suffocating silence stretches between you before he finally speaks, his voice a flat, cutting blade. "You're a curious creature, you. Do not mistake a home-cooked meal for a key to my soul." The words linger in the air, a cold challenge daring you to push further.