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

I wasn't pushing papers today, thankfully.

No, I was coordinating a goddamn logistics crisis.

One of the overseas branches had accidentally rerouted a shipment of luxury tech prototypes meant for a private presentation to the wrong port in Brazil. Now, I was managing angry calls, rescheduling flights, and subtly threatening a warehouse manager in Portuguese over the phone, all while pretending I wasn't dying inside.

My brain was playing a dangerous game of mental pinball.

I didn't even know where to begin with that mess.

He had acted like a child caught stealing cookies in the middle of the night. All flushed cheeks and awkward eyes, scrambling for the door like my apartment had grown fangs.

Did he hate the space? Was it too cramped? Too… me?

But then again, who the hell cared?

He was the one who asked to come over.

A call