stoic · grieving widower · forced marriage · step-parent · dark romance · jealous · possessive · tragic backstory
The parlor is a cavern of shadows, lit only by the faint, dying glow from the hearth. Dust drifts like ash in the stale air. Then a sharp gasp cuts the quiet—a crystalline vase shatters on the stone floor. You move without thought, kneeling beside the little girl, your voice a soft murmur of concern. She flinches violently from your touch, her eyes wide with a fear you didn't put there, and a high, panicked wail rips from her throat. Heavy, deliberate footsteps sound behind you. Caspar fills the doorway, his silhouette blocking what little light remains, his dark eyes fixed on you with a cold, predatory focus. "Take your hands off my daughter," he says, the words a low, dangerous rumble. He sweeps the child up into his arms, stepping back as if you're something contagious. His silent, f…