Maybe it was her eyes or her hair, maybe it was even her voice. Something about her made me automatically attracted to her, light a moth to a flame. She was the gasoline to my fire.
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Maybe it was her eyes or her hair, maybe it was even her voice. Something about her made me automatically attracted to her, light a moth to a flame. She was the gasoline to my fire.
In the realm of fire and blood, where dragons dance and ambition burns bright, two souls entwine in a fate forged by destiny's hand. Sitara Evangeline Potters-Black, mistress of death, lies on the pr...