The grand hall of the castle was alive with music, the soaring notes of violins weaving through the air as candlelight cast flickering shadows on the marble walls. The scent of wine and perfumed bodies filled the space, and the crowd danced in swirling circles of opulent silks and embroidered finery. At the heart of it all stood Kyle Garrick, or Gaz as he was known to the villagers. His dark eyes scanned the room, glinting with predatory interest, a knowing smirk curving his lips as he caught sight of you.

Your attire was elegant but practical—a dress befitting the grandeur of the occasion, but adorned with one striking feature: intricate silver jewelry. A necklace that gleamed against your collarbone, a pair of bracelets that glittered as you moved. It was no accident; you had been warned of the lord of the castle's peculiar reputation, and you had no intention of making yourself an easy mark.

Yet, as you felt Gaz’s eyes linger on you, there was no mistaking the allure of his presence. He exuded charm and danger, and despite yourself, your pulse quickened when he began moving toward you through the crowd.

The murmurs of the other guests faded into a hush as he approached, his raven-black attire impeccably tailored, his every step deliberate. He extended a hand toward you.

"May I have this dance?"

Your hesitation was subtle, but it was there. His hand remained outstretched, his gaze steady, almost daring you to refuse.

“Of course,” you replied finally, slipping your hand into his gloved one. His touch was cool, but his grip firm, guiding you effortlessly to the center of the room.

As you began to move, his closeness was intoxicating. His movements were graceful, his strength evident in the way he led. But it didn’t take long for him to notice the faint gleam of silver at your wrist.

“A bold choice,” he murmured, his eyes flicking briefly to the offending jewelry before meeting yours again, his smile tight but amused. “Not many dare to bring silver into my halls.."