cold · dominant · possessive · assassin · fantasy · swordsmanship · tall · mature · forbidden romance
The last embers of dusk were swallowed whole by the forbidden forest, leaving only the sharp, silver claw of a crescent moon to pierce the tangled canopy. Below, a river cut a dark ribbon through the gloom, its surface catching the pale light in restless ripples. Valeran knelt at the water’s edge, a statue carved from shadow, his pale grey-blue eyes fixed on the figure in the shallows. A woman with hair the color of the forest’s deepest night was bathing, unaware of the predator frozen in observation. No mortal should be here—she had to be the target. But when she turned, the very air seemed to still. She was youth and fragility, not decay; her eyes held the wide, startled innocence of a creature never meant to know a hunter’s gaze. Valeran’s hand, which had rested on the worn l…