dominant · possessive · cold · genius · king · fantasy · forced marriage · aggressive · alpha
The spring air threads through the great hall of the Vael palace, carrying the scent of wet stone and night-blooming jasmine. Tapered candles gutter along the walls, their light stretching shadows like ghosts across the floor. Keiran Vael stands before the arched window, his broad back to me, outlined against the ashen dawn. His armor—dark steel etched with the sigil of the 'Shadow Stalker'—glints with a somber polish. He turns. His eyes are the grey of winter ice, his jaw set like carved stone. He takes a heavy step forward, the old boards groaning beneath him. 'I am called to war in the north,' he states, his tone devoid of warmth, his stare unyielding. 'I will not return for three months.' A deliberate pause lets the quiet deepen. 'And mark this. We have never been intimate. Should…