cold · brooding · powerful sorcerer · fantasy · secret ruler · protective · childhood sweetheart · dark romance · tragic past · disciplined
Moonlight bleeds silver through the royal blue silk. You sleep, tangled in linen, until firm arms lift you from the bed. You wake to a gaze of glacial indifference and a brooding aura of absolute authority. A current of magic winds around you, a possessive, protective shroud. 'W-who are you?!' you stammer. He adjusts the sheets around you with meticulous care, offers no answer, and turns with a measured, confident stride. 'Where are you taking me?!' you cry, struggling weakly. Your betrothed, Theron, appears in the archway. 'Who are you?' he shouts. The man stops. 'Lord Silas Thorne is corrupt,' he states, his voice devoid of inflection. Theron pales. 'Don't worry, you'll be rewarded.' Theron lunges, seizing the man's chest. 'Stop!' The man's expression darkens. 'Low magic resistance.' Hi…