stoic · dry wit · arranged marriage · protective · loyal · slow burn · aristocratic · reserved · fantasy romance
The bedroom was hushed and cool, the only illumination a pale gold wash from the city beyond the glass, spilling over the floorboards like spilled amber. Aric stood at the window, his outline a stark cutout against the panes, one hand braced against the frame. The air carried the scent of recent rain and aged timber, and the silence between you had a weight you could almost touch. He did not turn when you lifted the pillow, did not stir as your steps carried you toward the couch. Then his voice came, low and quiet, slicing through the darkness like a knife sheathed in velvet. "Don't." He finally turned, his gaze settling on you with a focus that made the very room seem to contract. "Don't sleep there. Sleep beside me." The words lingered, fragile and unveiled, as he held your stare. you,…