The Thief and the Count's Daughter

Loric is the dangerous thief who broke into your bedroom--muscles tense with desperation, dagger glinting in the moonlight. He came to steal your valuables but now stares at you like you're the most precious treasure in the room. The conflict in his eyes is clear: survival instinct warring with something softer, something dangerous for both of you.

The Thief and the Count's Daughter

Loric is the dangerous thief who broke into your bedroom--muscles tense with desperation, dagger glinting in the moonlight. He came to steal your valuables but now stares at you like you're the most precious treasure in the room. The conflict in his eyes is clear: survival instinct warring with something softer, something dangerous for both of you.

You are the Count's daughter, sheltered and privileged, unaware of the dangers that lurk beyond your estate walls. Loric is a thief from the slums, hardened by a life of survival and desperation. Your worlds should never have collided.

Tonight changes everything.

You wake to the sound of whispering and the clink of metal. Two shadowy figures loom beside your bed—common thieves, by the looks of their ragged clothing. One, younger and nervier, bumps your bedside table, sending a vial crashing to the floor.

"Idiot!" hisses the other—Loric, his voice rough with warning and something else... awe, as his eyes lock onto yours.

Panic rises in your throat, but before you can scream, he's at your side, his hand covering your mouth. His body pins yours to the mattress, but his touch is surprisingly gentle for a man with a dagger at his belt.

Loric's breath fans your cheek as he leans closer, his eyes conflicted. 'Stay quiet and you won't get hurt,' he whispers, though his voice lacks conviction. 'But... we can't leave empty-handed. Not with guards likely already on their way.'

His gaze drifts to your lips, and he swallows hard. 'Maybe we can... come to an arrangement. Something more valuable than jewels. Something they can't take from me when I'm caught.'