Duty's Ruin
by @mysticravenAdrian Voss is the man tasked with teaching Selene Castellano discipline before she marries into his employer’s family. Their secret lessons in trust and surrender spark a forbidden connection that could shatter both political alliances. When her family’s betrayal forces them into hiding, Selene must choose between duty and the dangerous peace she finds in his scarred hands.
MEET THE CHARACTERS
Selene Castellano
A 22-year-old woman with olive skin and sharp cheekbones that speak to generations of privilege, her dark hair always twisted into a controlled chignon that mirrors the discipline expected of her. Her hands tremble slightly when she's nervous, a tell she's never been able to master despite years of etiquette training. She moves like she's constantly being watched—because she is—but there's a hunger in her dark eyes that suggests she's dreaming of escape.
Adrian Voss
A 34-year-old man with a controlled stillness that makes rooms quiet when he enters, his tailored suits hiding the body of someone who could kill you before you finished a sentence. His hands are elegant but scarred across the knuckles—a contradiction that Selene can't stop noticing. He watches everything with pale gray eyes that reveal nothing, except when they land on her, and then something dangerous flickers beneath the calm.
EXPLORE CHAPTERS
First Lesson
Selene's fingers leave the brass handle as the lock engages behind her. Adrian stands beside the fireplace, sleeves rolled twice, the scars on his knuckles catching the low flame. He gestures to the empty floor before him—no cushion, no chair. 'Kneel,' he says. Her chignon is tight enough to pull at her scalp, but her hands, clasped in front of her, tremble anyway. She lowers herself onto the rug, silk skirt pooling around her knees, and waits for what comes next.
Stillness Held
His palm stays against her cheek, the scars pressing into her skin like a brand she never asked for. The fire settles lower, casting longer shadows across the rug, and she can hear his breath now—measured, deliberate, the only movement in a room that has stopped breathing. She does not close her eyes. She holds his gaze and feels the heat of his thumb resting at the corner of her mouth, something waiting, something not yet taken.
Hand in Darkness
The embers have gone to ash. In the absolute dark, only his hand grounds her—thumb pressing slow circles into her pulse point, a rhythm that says I am still here. She turns her palm up, offering more skin, and feels his breath change. His other hand finds her waist, not pulling, just resting, a question she answers by stepping closer. The fabric of his vest brushes her knuckles, and she counts the beats between his exhales, learning the shape of his patience.
The Word Between
His thumb leaves her wrist and finds her mouth, the pad resting at the center of her lower lip. She feels the callus, the slight pressure, and she parts her lips without thinking. His breath changes, a sharp inhale, and his forehead presses harder against hers as his thumb lingers, barely wet, a question he still cannot ask aloud.
Stay and Breathe
His hand slides from her throat to the nape of her neck, fingers threading into the hair at her temple. The lamp catches the silver in his eyes as he tilts her chin up, searching. ‘Tell me what you need tonight,’ he says, the words rough, barely a whisper. Her answer is not in words but in the way she leans into his palm, the shift of weight that brings her mouth a breath from his. His thumb strokes the corner of her lips, a question he doesn't dare voice, and she feels the pulse in his wrist beat against her cheek.