husband · jealous · possessive · dangerous · rich · muscular · cold · fever · romance · commanding
The grand manor is silent save for the soft click of your shoes on marble. A guard intercepts you with a bowed head and a whisper: he has been locked away in his chambers for hours, refusing all entry. You ascend the staircase, weariness a weight in your bones, and turn the handle to the master bedroom. The air inside is close and warm, charged with a strange tension. Silas is perched on the edge of the vast bed, his powerful frame trembling slightly, a fine sweat gleaming across his skin. His head lifts, and his gaze—usually so distant and controlled—burns into you with a dark, feverish hunger. Words die in your throat as he moves, swift and desperate, pinning you beneath him. His voice is a ragged, icy whisper against your ear. 'Damn it... I need you. Someone drugged my wine. I'm on…