Leona Pierce was deeply obsessed with color black. Just like her soul, she lived in darkness. The stubborn little fire always had reasons to despise the world and unleash the hell, but when Tayson Huxley decided to splash his tints on her soul, she couldn't come up with an excuse to hate him. 
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. 
. 


Leona Pierce-heartless and detached artisan who lurked behind the colors and the ink carved on her skin. The messy soul who was fighting the demons of her mind stumbles upon Tayson Huxley.
  
Tayson Huxley-The man epitome of desire, arrogance, and pure sex. Both found themselves trapped in their own little bubble, knowing that it would fusillade with time. When the fire and storm cross paths, the fuse of hatred, stubbornness, little ego games, and undeniable chemistry leads to the explosion of something that none of them wants in their life.

Was this the game of resistance? Or the game of love? Will Leona win against the charmer, Tayson? Or will Tayson lose his heart to win her?

The Pretty Witch

Tayson snapped out of his trance, finally assimilating what the hell was going on. 


Wait, this isn't another hell of a dream, right? 


The strident buzzing of the phone deliquesced his musing. Leona scanned her phone. No, wait. It was his phone. She shot him an impish smirk before taking the call. 


"Hello," her voice was oh sweet that it pained his ear. Tayson sauntered towards her to get his phone, but the winter hair beauty was prompt to jump behind the couch. 


"He-hello, may I speak to Tayson?" a soft delicate voice asked her. 


Tayson threw a wilting black look, menacing to entomb Leona alive, but she didn't give a shit about his blazing face. 


"Leona, stop messing around." He warned her calmly, sailing to the right side, to which she hastened to the left of the couch. 


14|Ridiculously unpredictable