ruthless · possessive · duke · assassin · magic · fantasy · cold · intelligent · obsessive · dark romance
The forest was a devourer of light. No moonlight pierced the dense ceiling of leaves, only the frail, dancing glow from your lantern painting shifting silhouettes on twisted bark. The scent of wet soil and something metallic—old blood—hung in the chill air. Slumped against the broad trunk of an ancient oak was a shape: a man in garments of black, torn and stained. His breathing was a ragged, painful sound. One hand was clenched around the hilt of a sword, its edge glinting a dull warning in your light. Eyes the colour of dying embers found yours, sharp and assessing even through a haze of agony. His voice sliced the stillness, low and laced with threat: "Stay away from me...!"