TIARA THORNELLS
“R-Ran...dolf...” I stammered, the word barely escaping my lips.
He was standing right in front of me. Towering and intimidating. He wore a sleeveless shirt that clung to his muscular frame, his broad shoulders and defined arms fully exposed. His body looked almost sculpted, radiating strength. A pair of pants hung low on his hips, and he seemed completely unaffected by the cold air around us.
It struck me then, he was just as physically imposing as Prince Zatan.
His eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my chest tighten. It was as if he was preparing to attack me, and I couldn’t tell if I should back away or stand my ground. I felt frozen in place, paralyzed by a mixture of cold and fear. My knees were shaking, whether from the chill or sheer terror, I coul
