[The Silent Regency]The basalt mansion was no longer a house; it was a breathing organism, gothic lungs pumping the oxygen of their shared obsession.Outside, the Mediterranean lashed at the cliffs with a rhythmic, mindless violence, but inside the master suite, the air was still, heavy, and smelled of sandalwood and the cooling wax of black candles. Dante sat on the edge of the sprawling mahogany bed, his shirt unbuttoned, his skin mapped with the fading bruises of their physical reclamation. He was watching Ivy at the vanity, his gaze a physical anchor that refused to let her drift more than an arm’s length from his consciousness.This was the Silent Regency. They didn't need to bark orders to the world. They simply existed in a state of high-frequency tension, where every glance was a command and every touch was a reinforcement
Last Updated : 2026-02-25 Read more