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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 · Fantasi
Peringkat tidak cukup
246 Chs

Talk

The next morning, I made a decision. I was going to talk to Ciara. I didn't know what I would say, or how she would react, but I couldn't keep avoiding the issue. It was time to face whatever was happening between us, to figure out what we were and where we stood.

With my resolve strengthened, I set out to find Ciara. The castle, usually a place of comfort with its familiar corridors and well-worn paths, felt different today.

The wide expanse of the field was empty, the sound of clashing blades and shouted commands absent in the early morning light. The emptiness only heightened my anxiety, as if the very air was holding its breath, waiting.

From the training grounds, I made my way to the armory, my mind conjuring images of Ciara meticulously sharpening her blade or inspecting the weaponry with her usual intensity. The armory, however, was quiet, the scent of oiled leather and cold steel filling the space but offering no sign of her presence.