The Born Of Angel Of Death
  • Reads 242
  • Votes 16
  • Parts 13
  • Time 1h 45m
  • Reads 242
  • Votes 16
  • Parts 13
  • Time 1h 45m
Ongoing, First published Sep 16, 2020
Mature
[First Draft]

Eris never would have though that her fate abruptly changed when her father died which her life had been ripped away from her family and brought to the brothel house which served the high class men in the most disgusting inhumane way. 

There she learnt how to survive and met new people who she called family. Through snags and hurdles passed, she knew she had to do something. So, what did she had to do?


[First draft]
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King Reyansh Singhania had never been taught the meaning of love or respect. Hell, he didn't even know how to treat a human being with any form of decency. Words like compassion, empathy, love, and care were foreign to him-concepts that held no place in his world. Why should they? He had no connection to them. His reality was built on cruelty, dominance, and power. Growing up, the only lessons he learned were about control and ruthlessness. Women were nothing more than tools for his pleasure-sluts, whores, or disposable objects meant to bow before him and cater to his needs. He had never seen them as equals. For him, a woman was someone who would spread her legs and accept the pain he inflicted, not someone to be cherished or respected. For Reyansh, emotions were a weakness. He buried them so deep, building walls around his heart higher than any fortress. He was a king, and kings do not love. They conquer. And love? Love was a betrayal he refused to entertain. It made him feel vulnerable, and vulnerability was something he could never afford. But fate has a wicked way of breaking even the hardest of men. Then came Kiara. At first glance, she seemed ordinary-pale skin, striking green eyes, soft pink lips. Yet, there was something about her that defied the world he created for himself. She wasn't like the others. She didn't bow to his whims. She didn't give him the control he was used to having. She was fierce, unapologetically herself, and that fire ignited something Reyansh had long buried. For the first time, he found himself unable to control the fluttering in his chest. He didn't know what to do with the emotions she stirred in him. He couldn't let her get away. He would break her to make her his. She would be his whore, his slut, his mistress, his queen-his wife. She was his to love, to hurt, to hate, to dominate. She was his. And no one, not even her, could escape the chains he would make for her.
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Warning: DARK ROMANCE Story contains detailed mature scenes possessing dubious consent not recommended for age group below 18 years old. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Prologue Shadows engulfed his angelic features oozing devilish intentions. It wasn't until he took a step towards her did the gravity of situation descended upon and even then she couldn't do anything but shake in fear. She knew making a run for it won't do a thing, calling was not an option and if she screamed...she opened her mouth to shrill but a meek plea came out. Her body's lack of response terrified her, tears gathered in her orbs with horrible anticipation. With his each step nearer she gripped the frame of her window tighter hoping to keep her balance. It took him three steps to be inches away from her body. He slowly took his suit jacket off, making himself comfortable as he amusingly watched her shaken face. She was so horror-stricken to even look at his face. She gulped as his hand cupped her neck in a gentle grip, guiding her eyes to his. His eyes slipped from the hold of her eyes to her lips in a second. She grew self conscious all over again. His heated gaze on her lips was unwavering. In the moment of bewilderment and growing self awareness her tongue unconsciously wiped her lips wet and it was all it took for him to descent on her lips. Description Had it been upto him he'd have broken her down to pieces and never put her togather, instead, he let her build herself, he watched her collapse and stand, die and live, float and drown all the while playing her body like a putty in his hand. Her husband had never been gentle, his ways was one of his kind. He read her like a book and used her spells against her. She was vividly aware of what she was getting herself into but nothing could prepare her for the don who brought everyone on his feet and she was no exception. How would she survive his ways or even would she?
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81 parts Complete Mature

King Reyansh Singhania had never been taught the meaning of love or respect. Hell, he didn't even know how to treat a human being with any form of decency. Words like compassion, empathy, love, and care were foreign to him-concepts that held no place in his world. Why should they? He had no connection to them. His reality was built on cruelty, dominance, and power. Growing up, the only lessons he learned were about control and ruthlessness. Women were nothing more than tools for his pleasure-sluts, whores, or disposable objects meant to bow before him and cater to his needs. He had never seen them as equals. For him, a woman was someone who would spread her legs and accept the pain he inflicted, not someone to be cherished or respected. For Reyansh, emotions were a weakness. He buried them so deep, building walls around his heart higher than any fortress. He was a king, and kings do not love. They conquer. And love? Love was a betrayal he refused to entertain. It made him feel vulnerable, and vulnerability was something he could never afford. But fate has a wicked way of breaking even the hardest of men. Then came Kiara. At first glance, she seemed ordinary-pale skin, striking green eyes, soft pink lips. Yet, there was something about her that defied the world he created for himself. She wasn't like the others. She didn't bow to his whims. She didn't give him the control he was used to having. She was fierce, unapologetically herself, and that fire ignited something Reyansh had long buried. For the first time, he found himself unable to control the fluttering in his chest. He didn't know what to do with the emotions she stirred in him. He couldn't let her get away. He would break her to make her his. She would be his whore, his slut, his mistress, his queen-his wife. She was his to love, to hurt, to hate, to dominate. She was his. And no one, not even her, could escape the chains he would make for her.