The Boy Who Called Me His

The Boy Who Called Me His

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Jul 4, 2016
She was destroyed by what society had done to her. She had decided it was easier to hate herself then love herself, that way she’d never get hurt. He looked at her like every woman wanted to be looked at. He kissed her like her lips were air and he couldn’t breath. She needed him He needed her But it wasn’t all that simple. ~~~ Text Copyright © Ljhoubert_™ 2015 The moral right of the author has been asserted. All rights reserved. This story is published subject to the condition that is shall not be reproduced or re transmitted in whole or in part, in any manner, without the written consent of the copyright holder, and any infringement of this is a violation of copyright law. A single copy of the materials available in this story may be made, solely for personal, noncommercial use. Individuals must preserve any copyright or other notices contained in or associated with them. Users may not distribute said copies to others, whether or not in electronic form or hard copy, without prior written consent of the copyright holder of the materials.
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Every crown is a curse, and every heir is a sacrifice, When peace lies in bloody nights what will happen when the her ice cold heart melts in this warm embrace? She was not the woman she appeared to be. Behind those sharp eyes and cold composure was a soul shattered by betrayal and heartbreak. Once, she had known laughter, softness, and trust-but those days were long buried beneath layers of pain and rage. The scars of her past had carved away the girl she used to be, leaving behind a woman with a heart frozen in ice. Trust was a luxury she could no longer afford, and love? Love had become a cruel illusion she no longer believed in. All that remained was a single, burning desire-revenge. It was her fuel, her purpose, and the reason she rose each day with fire in her veins and steel in her gaze. She had become a devil in the eyes of many, but they didn't know the story behind the flames. And then, he came. A man unlike any she had ever known-warm where she was cold, gentle where she was fierce. He saw the thorns and bled willingly just to hold the rose. He didn't flinch at her anger or retreat from her silence. Instead, he embraced her darkness like it was a part of him. To him, she wasn't broken-she was beautiful in ways the world failed to understand. He loved her not despite her demons, but because of them. For the first time in years, she felt the warmth of something unfamiliar-hope. He would give up everything for her: his name, his pride, even his morals. Not because he was weak, but because his love for her was that strong. He didn't want to fix her-he only wanted to hold her, to show her that she didn't have to fight alone.

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