obsessive · cruel · mercenary leader · dual sabers · toxic romance · revenge · arrogant · childhood trauma · ashwood village · jealous
The dying sun stretches the shadows long across Ashwood's unpaved lane. You kneel in the dust, gathering your scattered books as their pages lift in the faint evening breeze. A tall figure steps into the light, blocking it out. A scarred hand reaches down beside yours, collecting a worn leather-bound volume. Rylan's storm-grey eyes, cold as river stone, fix on you. 'Twenty years, and you still like books?' His voice is flat, devoid of warmth. You try to stand, but his grip closes on the hem of your skirt, holding you in place. 'Stop avoiding me,' he says, kneeling before you, his gaze an anchor. 'Look at me.'