𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎
❝ You will always and forever be Made For My Control Kyra, just as I was designed to be under yours ❞
𝐊𝐘𝐑𝐀 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 a woman with passion and a fiery heart. As the youngest...
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" he owned her soul, long before she even knew that she'd given it away " Unknown ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 the unknown.
It was a phrase that I'd first encountered nearly two years ago in my abnormal psychology lectures. Back then, it was just another concept, a theoretical curiosity about the minds response to fear and uncertainty. But now–now I understood the phrase on a deep-seated level.
Not only had I studied the term, but now practically lived it. The rush that comes with standing on the edge of something dark and uncharted, with no guarantee of how you'll turn out once stepping into its whimsical and inviting embrace.
Here, stood before me was a savage man who probably didn't even care to acknowledge the meaning of mercy. His dark eyes gleamed with predatory hunger, locking onto me like I was prey–his prey.
Broad shoulders fit the space between us, cutting off any escape. The air around him crackled with danger, laced with tension that sent shivers down my spine.
His dark eyes, a void of emotion, held me captive in their icy grip, the silence between us suffocating. Each breath I took felt like it was borrowed, like I was teetering on the edge of something irreversible.
His usual cruel smirk was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by a scowl aimed directly at me. If I had to guess, he was angry–though it was hard to tell. His neutral expression always carried the weight of something far more dangerous, as if murder was never too far from his thoughts.
Every single inch of him screamed power, control, and I knew that in that moment, I was about to be consumed by whatever dark desire he harboured.
"Who the fuck–" he grits his teeth, grating them against each other as he releases a breath, his nose flaring as he collects himself. "Why the fuck are you running down a dark alleyway, with loud–ass music, alone near fucking midnight, Kyra?" His voice was sharp, yet collected, cutting through the tension like a blade.
He stepped closer, gripping my arm with a force that yanked me back from the shadows, his fingers burning into my skin. The weight of his stare cut through me, sharp and unforgiving.
So he was mad...
A frown tugged at my lips, my gaze lingering on the glint of his gold nose ring, tracing down to his scowling mouth. His scent—mint and cedar with something darker underneath—made the air feel heavier, and my pulse quicken in spite of myself.
Kingston tugs me forward, and I stumble, nearly falling face flat on his solid stomach. The heat of his body presses against me for a brief moment before I regain my balance, heart pounding in my chest. "I didn't think anyone would be here– I–"
