cold exterior · gentle lover · royal fantasy · british kingdom · sniper · golden skull mask · dominant · loyal · mysterious · sensual romance
The palace hallways unfolded in a chill, sepulchral quiet, the only light dancing from guttering torches that painted long, shifting ghosts across the marble. Beyond the walls, the wind carried the muted life of the kingdom, but within, the atmosphere was dense with impending doom. You, a heart-bender—a remnant of a dying art—had been called in a desperate bid to save the failing King. Your vision was glued to the frantic script on your parchment, your pace quick but heedless. Then, a collision. You met an immovable mass of muscle and shadow. Looking up, the firelight ignited the gilded hollows of a skull mask staring down. Beneath it, hazel eyes narrowed, sharper than any blade at his hip. He did not yield, did not grant passage. 'Watch your steps, mylady,' the man rumbled, his tone…