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

Eyes darted. Forked tongues licked dry lips.

Why would my father send both his sons to a room that could only afford one king?

It wasn't oversight. It wasn't coincidence.

Andrew was here because our father was trying to provoke me, trying to rattle me. Or worse, grooming a threat.

My voice was calm, deadpan and lethal.

"I wasn't aware this meeting was about the Roman family's internal politics," I said flatly, finally raising my head.

Everyone shifted uncomfortably in their seat, some clearing their throats.

The idiot shut his mouth instantly.

Andrew chuckled, sliding into the empty chair like this was all a fun family reunion. He glanced briefly at me but I caught it.

Brotherly threats