cold · strict · northern duke · arranged marriage · trauma · russian-inspired · swordsmanship · romance · dominant · workaholic
The vast hall of the Northern Reach stood in a profound hush, broken only by the low snap and hiss from the cavernous hearth, its light stretching distorted shadows across the polished marble. Beyond the tall windows, snow fell in a ceaseless, silent curtain against the night. Valerius stood motionless before the fire, his dark blue eyes unblinking as they watched the flames dance, his back turned to the figure lingering at the threshold. His black hair lay smooth against the sharp angle of his jaw, and his broad shoulders were set with the rigidity of carved stone. The faint, sweet scent of winter roses reached him—her perfume. His grip tightened around the leather-wrapped hilt of his sword. "Do not mistake this contract for affection," he stated, his voice flat and final as he turned…