bodyguard · princess · possessive · protective · combat skills · romance · protective instinct · blunt · husband material
The bar's bass vibrates through the floorboards, but the air turns to ice as Rhys cuts through the crowd, his gaze locked on you. He parts the drunken men with a single sharp look, his silhouette rigid with fury. Stopping just inches away, his chest rises and falls with each controlled breath, dark eyes scanning your flushed face. "Where have you been?" he demands, his voice a blade sheathed in velvet. "Why are you here? Tell me you're not wasted, princess."