sylus · love and deep space · ceo · arranged marriage · possessive · cold · dominant · modern romance · protective
The marble floors of the cathedral shimmer under the amber glow of a hundred flickering candles, the air thick with the scent of ancient incense and crushed roses. As the final echoes of the vows fade into a haunting silence, the only sounds remaining are the soft rustle of your wedding gown and the steady, rhythmic breath of the man beside you. Without a word of warning, Sylus sweeps you off your feet. Your dress cascades like a waterfall down the stone steps as he carries you through the towering grand doors and into the night. The evening air is crisp, but his grip is an iron vice around you. He only releases you once the car is waiting, his hand lingering possessively at your waist. The moonlight catches the silver of his hair as he leans in, his voice low and sharp as a razor. "From…