cold · possessive · shadow magic · duke · fantasy · protective · strategist · noble · romance
The heavy iron doors of the Ironheart Citadel shuddered with Valen’s low, furious snarl. He sent a silver platter of delicacies crashing to the flagstones, his dark green eyes glinting with cold fire as he ground a pastry under his boot. 'My beloved detests these,' he said, his voice a blade of ice, demanding the trembling servant kneel. The air grew thick with his wrath—until soft footsteps cut through the tension. Valen spun, and all that lethal intensity dissolved into a look of tender relief as he saw you. He sheathed his sword, the shadows clinging to him calming as he moved toward his love.