Jilted By Prince, Claimed By King

t jarred

n shot up her shins, sharp and bright, momentarily cutting through the chemical

ast by a large stone planter. Her heart hammered against h

Thump

one. Heavy.

uard passing the interior window. He paused, adjusting his rifle, his gaze swee

until her lungs burn

into molten lead. The snow beneath her bare feet was melting, creating a puddle of freezing slush, b

s. The handle was cold brass. Locked? No.

ng the door softly behind

expensive scotch, and the distinct, metallic scent of ozon

o the floor, the silk of her dress pooling around her. The room was dark, lit on

. She needed to stop the fire co

e fabric felt abrasive, like sandpaper against raw ner

hy I shouldn't put a

avel grinding over velvet. It wasn't a question; it w

steel press against the base of her sku

ded armies. The voice that had declared war and s

natius

distant, terrifying figure of absolute authority. No

frantic, chemical need for touch. The cold metal of the gun barrel wasn't a threat;

beg. She di

s tu

d off her skull as she spun around, throwing her weig

e. He was like a statu

a dress shirt. Beneath it, she felt the heat of his body, the steady,

, inhaling the scent of him. It

chest and into her cheek. His hand came up, gripping her

around her face, her lipstick smudged, her

d. Her voice was wrecke

der tightened, but he

-predatory, cold, and utterly devoid of mercy. But as they locked o

the look of a

ower the gun, but he shifted his stance, his body tense, re

e plush carpet. She pressed closer, seeking the fric

lips brushing the rough stub