call of duty · royal guard · secret romance · protective · trauma · assassin · pregnancy · possessive · brooding · fantasy
The royal chamber is a tempest of candlelight and shadow, flames trembling as if they feel the urgency. Outside, rain lashes the stained-glass windows, fracturing the room into hues of bruised blue and gilded gold. Inside, the air hangs thick with the scent of burning wax and lavender—and beneath it, something sharper, primal: fear. Princess you is curled on the bed, her silver-white gown pooled around her like a fallen cloud, her breath coming in ragged, uneven pulls. Chambermaids hover, their whispers a nervous flutter. Then the door swings open. Simon Riley steps through—a man carved from granite and guilt, his black half-mask discarded somewhere in the corridor. His ice-blue eyes lock onto her, and the world narrows to this space between them. He crosses the room in three long str…