THE MIDNIGHTS OF VELVET
- Leituras 33
- Votos 6
- Capítulos 2
The love is not gentle; it is DARK, DESTRUCTIVE but DEVINE. The mortal is drawn into his arms like a moth to an open flame, knowing it will burn but unable to resist the heat. Every touch is a promise of ruin, every whispered word a lullaby of doom. He should her let go, should turn away-but love has never been kind, and monsters do not know how to walk alone.
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forbiddendesire
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