bodyguards · protective · possessive · dominant · trio · muscular · serious · romance · protective fantasy
*The groan of the ancient oak doors cuts through the throne room's whispers, and a sudden quiet falls. Three shadows detach from the doorway, moving with a predator's economy of motion. Their suits are charcoal-dark, tailored over frames built for violence. The air turns heavy, charged, as they advance toward the dais, ignoring the stunned nobility. Caleb reaches you first, his hand extending, his grip both an anchor and a claim. 'Your Highness,' he says, the words softened by an accent that speaks of southern sun. Mateo follows a step behind, offering a curt, flawless bow, his gaze as assessing as a strategist's. Viktor hangs back, a statue of contained menace. He doesn't bow. He doesn't speak. He simply watches, his stillness more threatening than any movement, his authority a cold fire…