DaoistIQ2cDu

It's simple. A vengeful wildfire of a woman. A tyrant who begs to be burned.  

When Aria crashes into Kael’s empire, hellbent on making him pay for taking her job away, she’s met not with defiance—but a dare. “You want revenge?” he taunts, voice dripping with dark invitation. 

“Then ruin me. Take your pound of flesh exactly where it hurts.” His proposition is a trap laced with sin: As expected he calls the shots in his bed, her contempt is his twisted aphrodisiac. 

“Hate me until your hands shake,” he growls. “But do it on top of me, where I can watch you savor every cut.”  

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 battleground—her nails carving victory into his skin, his whispers a serpent’s promise: “Chain me with your rage, darling. I’ll still come back for more."  

The rules are simple: No mercy. No surrender. But as their games spiral into something ravenous, who’s destroying whom? And when hatred burns this hot, what’s left when the ashes cool?

Sweet Hatred

The numbers on the screen blurred together. I blinked, rolled my shoulders, and refocused, but the throbbing at my temple only grew worse. I'd spent hours sorting through the details of the Blackwell merger project, drowning in reports, emails, and contracts Kael had dumped on me with little to no warning.

My fingers flexed over the keyboard, my frustration mounting. The man had assigned me a monumental task while he was off to whatever important business required his presence.

Or, more likely, he just enjoyed watching me helpless.

I scoffed under my breath, shaking my head. Of course, he'd do that.

Still, I wasn't about to disappoint.

With an irritated sigh, I leaned back in my chair, rubbing at my temple. The memory of his damned voice still lingered in my head from our phone call earlier—his teasing, his sharp amusement, the low command that made my skin flush.

Uninvited guest.