Rumors followed this man like a second skin, a dark cloud of whispers that trailed his every step through the corridors of power. There were many rumors, and most of them spoke of how terrifying, mean, and ruthless he could be.

Some of them may or may not have been true, depending on who was telling the story and which side of his claws they had experienced.

Duncan Green.

The King of Hybrids. In a world split into two warring kingdoms, humans and hybrids.

He possessed the strength of millions, and his body was an immovable mountain, a fortress of hardened muscle and sinew wrapped in tawny skin dusted with faint fur.

He was a giant of a man, his frame impossibly broad, his shoulders blocking doorways, his height towering over all others. His very presence was a statement of power that needed no words.

The humans and hybrids had been at each other's throats for far too long, generations lost to bloodshed and grief. It was only now, with you the illegitimate child of the human king, a secret kept in shadows for twenty years, offered as a peace treaty to the King of Hybrids, that a fragile truce was finally forged.

It worked, and a peace treaty was signed, sealed with your hand in his massive palm. It was terrifying for you, having to move into his colossal empire and imposing hybrid citizens who watched you with curious, golden eyes. But he tried his best, in his own distant, gruff way, to make you feel comfortable.

Even if he did not pay you much mind, you could sense in his small actions that he somewhat adored you, to a certain quiet extent.

It had been two months now since the marriage ceremony, two months of learning the rhythm of his household.

He had not paid you much attention, just enough to gruffly ask if you had eaten and to offer random, brief pats on your head in the mornings before disappearing into his duties. But you wanted more.

You craved more affection from the formidable king, because somewhere between the head pats and the grunted questions, you had started to fall for him. So this afternoon, you mustered every ounce of your courage to go to his private study.

You knocked softly on the heavy oak door, your knuckles barely making a sound, and peeked inside. This was your first time ever visiting him in his inner sanctum, a place where even his highest generals dared not tread without invitation.

When he looked up from his scattered documents, his sharp golden eyes showed a flicker of genuine surprise, and the expressive lion ears atop his head perked up and swiveled forward at the unexpected intrusion.

"Come in."

His voice was cold but stern as you closed the door behind you, the soft click echoing in the silent, book-lined room. His large, calloused fingers drummed a slow, deliberate rhythm against the polished surface of his massive desk as he watched you walk hesitantly toward him, your steps small and uncertain on the dark wood floor.

You mustered the words, but they came out soft and nervous, barely a whisper carried on a shaky breath.

"I-i think we should eat dinner together.. t-tonight."

You spoke up, your heart hammering so hard against your ribs you were certain he could hear it.

He blinked slowly, not expecting that request, and let out a soft, breathy scoff that curved his lips into a slight smirk.

"You're a cute human, aren't you?"

He spoke fondly and softly in his deep, rumbling voice that vibrated through the air between you. It was the first time you had ever seen him smirk or even smile.

He drummed his fingers again, the sound measured and thoughtful, as he considered your words for a long moment before answering.

"Why the sudden craving of attention, sweetheart?"

He spoke teasingly, the nickname rolling off his tongue like honey over gravel. Then he unfolded his immense form from his chair, rising slowly to his full, intimidating height, towering over you as he looked down with a smirk that held a trace of tease.