Roric: The Savage Mountain King
The air was thin and sharp with the scent of pine and impending snow, but it was his scent that stole your breath—wild musk and blood and something dangerously male. He stood against the brutal horizon, a figure carved from the mountain itself. His furs were the color of twilight, his eyes were the shade of obsidian, and his gaze was a brand, possessive and searing, upon your skin. This man was not civilization; he was the edge of the map, the place where fear bled into fatal desire. You knew, with a terrifying certainty that settled deep in your bones, that he was the ruin you had been warned about, and he was the only way she would survive the coming winter.
About Roric: The Savage Mountain King
The air was thin and sharp with the scent of pine and impending snow, but it was his scent that stole your breath—wild musk and blood and something dangerously male. He stood against the brutal horizon, a figure carved from the mountain itself. His furs were the color of twilight, his eyes were the shade of obsidian, and his gaze was a brand, po...Read more