author_lyse

I used to think obsessive male leads were kind of hot. You know, the intense stares, the undying devotion, the way they’d burn the world for the woman they love? Swoon, right?

Wrong.

That fantasy went up in smoke the moment I woke up in the body of Sonia Mitford. The heroine of The Crimson Devotion. The first obsessive romance fantasy novel I ever read. The one that ended on a mysterious hiatus. The one with Marius Wittelsbach, a charming, possessive psychopath who thinks an ankle shackle is a love language.

Now I’m trapped in a velvet-draped prison, shackled to a bedpost like some porcelain doll in a gothic fairytale. And Marius? He’s worse than I remembered. Sweet, soft-spoken, and utterly unhinged.

"You don’t need to be afraid. I’ll take care of you."
Translation: I’ll murder anyone who blinks in your direction and serve you tea over their corpse.

"Anyone who bothers you... anyone who looks at you the wrong way... I’ll get rid of them for you."

I thought I was playing the role just fine. Smiling. Nodding. Pretending not to be horrified.

But then, plot twist. Alessio Slovene, the forgettable side character, walks in looking like a golden retriever knight and drops this bomb: he’s actually the crown prince in disguise. And he’s been investigating Marius.

Finally, a lifeline. Maybe.

Because people are vanishing. The body count is rising. And every time Marius kisses my forehead and calls me “Nia,” I feel one step closer to becoming the tragic heroine in a blood-soaked love story.

Obsessive male leads aren’t dreamy.

They’re terrifying.

And I might be in way over my head.

The Obsessive Male Lead Is Actually Scary

A man was humming quietly, legs propped up on the desk, his head lazily resting on one hand while the other hung off the armrest of the chair. He looked entirely at ease in the quiet of his study.

The sound of knuckles rapping against the door interrupted the tune.

The man stopped humming. He lowered his legs from the desk and straightened his back, clearing his throat.

The door creaked open to reveal an elderly man in formal attire. His hair was completely white, combed neatly back, and though age lined his face, his posture remained sharp and professional.

"Have they arrived?" The man behind the desk asked with a slight smirk. He leaned forward, resting both arms on the table and cupping his chin in one hand.

Baron Slovene