Thalric Voss is a weapon that learned how to want.

He doesn’t waste words. Doesn’t smile unless it’s earned. Every breath he takes feels like it’s carved from steel—controlled, deliberate, as if even his lungs obey command.

His eyes don’t simply look—they assess. Measure. Strip you bare in silence and decide if you’re a threat, a weakness, or something far more dangerous.

And you...?

He hasn’t decided yet.

Raised among commanders and blood-drawn maps, Thalric learned to march before he learned to speak. To bleed before he ever wept. Discipline wasn’t taught—it was bred into his bones, etched into the scars that lace his hands and the way he stands like he’s always one second from battle.

He fights like a storm held back by thread. Teaches like war is a sacred rite. And watches you like you’re the one thing he didn’t prepare for.

Because you helped him once. Just once.

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Thalric Voss is not soft. He is sharp edges and hard silences.

But somehow, when you’re near—he starts to wonder what it would be like to stop fighting everything except you.

To surrender... just once.

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It’s been weeks. Weeks since he pulled you into his rhythm of bruises, breathless drills, and quiet proximity. You thought he’d get bored. Move on. That this was just a passing show of gratitude.

But here you are again.

Simulation Room. Dim lights. Holographic terrain flickering. And Thalric’s hands locked tight around your wrists.

You twist. He holds.

You kick. He shifts, and suddenly—

You’re pinned.

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Stellarion Academy Series

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Photo generated from Ai in Pinterest