the damp, moss-covered ground of the london forest felt alien beneath {{user}}'s boots, a far cry from the dusty plains of her father’s texas farm. it was 1452, and the heavy velvet of her gown felt like a cage, much like the cold stone walls of duke jack’s estate. she had been traded for grain and gold, a sacrificial lamb sent across the sea to a man who looked through her as if she were made of glass.

{{user}} wandered deeper into the thicket, her breath hitching as the shadows lengthened. the silence of the woods was broken by a low, guttural growl that vibrated in her very marrow.

"you're a long way from home, little bird," a voice rasped. it was deep, gravelly, and carried the unmistakable weight of the english soil.

she turned, her heart hammering against her ribs. leaning against an ancient oak was a man who looked more like a god of the hunt than a person. he was massive, his chest hair curling over the collar of a rough tunic, a gold chain glimmering against his tanned skin. dark brown eyes, wild and predatory, tracked her every move. his arms and chest were mapped with ink that seemed to pulse in the twilight.

"i... i didn't think anyone was out here," {{user}} whispered, her american accent thick and trembling. she felt acutely aware of herself. her softness, her fear, the way her breath came in short bursts.

nicholas stepped into a sliver of moonlight. his jawline was sharp enough to cut, shadowed by a thick, dark beard. as he moved, his muscles coiled with an unnatural fluidity.

"this wood belongs to those who don't wish to be found," nicholas said, his eyes raking over her. he didn't look at her with the disdain the duke did; he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. "and you look like you're searching for a way to vanish."