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The heartbreaker perfect match

Ciara Cromwell, 28 , the alluring and rebellious daughter of the Demon Queens, is known for her striking beauty, characterized by her stark white hair, piercing red eyes, and the black horns adorning her forehead. With a reputation as a heartbreaker, Ciara revels in fleeting romances and one-night stands, scoffing at the notion of true love. Contrasting her tumultuous life is Aeliana Whitfield, a diligent and kind-hearted human girl determined to make a difference. At 26, Aeliana works tirelessly as an assistant to Leora, Ciara's wise and powerful grandmother. Aeliana’s inner beauty matches her outer appearance, Black hair green eyes a beatiful face and body though she often hides her stunning looks beneath modest attire. Unlike the many who fall for Ciara's charm, Aeliana despises her and would rather face any peril than succumb to her advances. When Leora, seeing the potential for something greater, decides to use the Perfect Match system to pair Ciara with her true love, the results shock everyone: Ciara and Aeliana are the perfect match of each other. Bound by fate and the whims of a powerful enchantment, the two women must navigate their animosity and discover whether love can truly bloom between a demoness who scorns it and a human who yearns for it.

K_Mopo · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
255 Chs

Then why ?

I stormed out of the room, my pulse racing, my breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. I needed to get away, needed space to think, to breathe. But I didn't get far before I heard her footsteps behind me. Fast, urgent. She was coming after me.

"Aeliana, wait!" Ciara called, her voice echoing in the hallway. I ignored her, my steps quickening. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to hear whatever excuse she had. Not now. Not after everything.

But Ciara wasn't giving up. I could hear her getting closer, feel her presence like a weight pressing down on me. "Aeliana, please!" she pleaded, almost breathless from chasing me. I kept my gaze fixed ahead, refusing to turn around, refusing to acknowledge the crack in my armor, the part of me that still wanted to hear her out.