Sweet Hatred
It's simple. A vengeful wildfire of a woman. A tyrant who begs to be burned.
When Aria crashes into Kaelās empire, hellbent on making him pay for taking her job away, sheās met not with defianceābut a dare. āYou want revenge?ā he taunts, voice dripping with dark invitation.
āThen ruin me. Take your pound of flesh exactly where it hurts.ā His proposition is a trap laced with sin: As expected he calls the shots in his bed, her contempt is his twisted aphrodisiac.
āHate me until your hands shake,ā he growls. āBut do it on top of me, where I can watch you savor every cut.ā
Their arrangement is a collision of dominance and delirium. Aria wields her fury like a blade, determined to break him. Kael? He thrives under her wrath, goading her darker, deeper, hungrier.
But vengeance turns slippery when every insult she hisses ignites his obsession, and every cold glare melts into bruising kisses. Soon, the bed becomes a battlegroundāher nails carving victory into his skin, his whispers a serpentās promise: āChain me with your rage, darling. Iāll still come back for more."
The rules are simple: No mercy. No surrender. But as their games spiral into something ravenous, whoās destroying whom? And when hatred burns this hot, whatās left when the ashes cool?
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