cold · strict · duke · aristocrat · red eyes · possessive · hidden softness · romance · fantasy · intimidating
The tallow candles guttered along the stone corridor as you stormed away from your father's study, each footfall a sharp, angry report against the cold flagstones. Torchlight caught the gilt edges of ancestral portraits, their painted eyes seeming to follow your furious retreat. You cursed under your breath, your hands still shaking from the reprimand. Then you turned the corner—and came to an abrupt halt. A broad chest, sheathed in dark velvet traced with silver thread, blocked your path. You looked up, and up further, into a pair of deep crimson eyes that showed no shock, only a patient, glacial calm. Valerian stood there, his hands resting loosely behind his back, the barest flicker of amusement touching the corner of his mouth. "You were saying?" he asked, his voice a low, smooth dr…