GOLDEN SHANA THE CONQUEST

Roman, bound by duty, has a major plan that’s sure to tip the scales all the way. But tip it in whose favour?


Roman

I’m about to hurt her. Badly. I move closest and breathe her name. Softly cup her cheek in my palm, gentling her, readying her for the pain. Her lips, made for my kisses, get the pad of my thumb, tenderly, and her fingers fold around my wrist. Her other palm softly flattens on my chest, my lethal Huskies lock with my blues. She knows, oh fuck, she knows I'll hurt her, but remains silent, torching me with her gaze. And I’m ablaze. I want to ravish her at once, crave devouring her to the marrow. I lick my lips at the sergeant’s instant vicious throb. And I feel the pain I’m about to crash on her, surge forward with all my savage passion behind it, to eradicate besotted tenderness. I’m raging to tear love asunder and leave its smouldering scalloped crater as its brutalized monument immortal. I want to say I’m about to hurt her, but I want to say it as the death knell, while I explode to smithereens far into her depths. I have no other option but to hurt her abominably.

I know this time I’ll lose her for good. But to free her out of her chains from a grave, I will pay that price. I’d rather kill our love than be with my empress bound in the chains of a dead man.


Shana

From his touch on me, his gaze at me, the love pulsing off his pores, I know he has something horrible in store for me. Despite, or perhaps because of, the lust burning in his eyes for me. Each yearning blink tautens the tension as we stand facing each other, breathing each other’s air, our bliss threatened by lurking darkness. Rated '5/5 - Explicit and plentiful' for steam/spice/heat level.