[ Obsidian Castle's Throne room.]
Adrian swept a hand through his hair, fingers dragging the dark strands back from his face. His muscles were drawn taut, shoulders tensed like he was in a battlefield.
His fingers rapped against the armrest of his throne. His expression was troubled
“F*ck.” This was the umpteenth time he said that word.
It wasn't supposed to be this way.
He had relished resistance from Estelle. The defiance. The war of wills, the cold shoulders and the sharp words. He enjoyed all of it. Because Adrian loved defiant women the most.
Because he enjoyed breaking them in the end.
But he had not prepared for the way she would make him feel things he couldn't understand. He had not prepared for the way she would invoke an urge in him to protect her just because she showed
