Story cover for When We Burn Again by NikitaFaolan
When We Burn Again
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    LECTURAS 51
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    Votos 10
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    Partes 3
  • WpHistory
    Hora 38m
  • WpView
    LECTURAS 51
  • WpVote
    Votos 10
  • WpPart
    Partes 3
  • WpHistory
    Hora 38m
Continúa, Has publicado nov 24
Contenido adulto
Rosa Blackwell paints the things she can't explain - faces she's never seen, moments she's never lived, memories that slip into her dreams like smoke. She tells herself it's just imagination. Nerves. Artistry gone rogue.

Then she meets Sylas Valen.

He's cold, elegant, impossible to ignore... and determined to pretend she doesn't exist.
Rosa doesn't understand why. But Sylas does.

He's seen her soul before. Loved it. Lost it.
And the curse that stole her from him once is still waiting, patient as a predator.

The closer they get, the louder their past hunts them.

Rosa feels it in her dreams.
Sylas feels it in his bones.

But neither of them can step away.

This lifetime has a choice none of the others did:
Will the curse take her again-
or will their love finally outrun fate?

Because fate may have owned their past, but she intends to claim their future.
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The Roseblood Clan. Three thousand years worth of magic cursing through their people's blood. Long before the Bennetts, before the Travellers, The Other Side and the Ancestors, there had been the Roseblood clan. Witches forged from the dying breath of a dragon in the centre of Scotland. The blood of the dragon was the legacy of their people. Yet, stories and history could be twisted by the victors of the many battles that had plagued the clan. A war between kin had destroyed the legacy of the Roseblood Clan. After a thousand years, their rule of magic had come to a halt. For over two thousand years, a story had been spun. The story of the evil siphoner. The abomination that had ruined their line. Yet, the truth loomed, threatening to reveal the true reason as to why siphoners existed. What their true purpose was. Were they abominations, the bastards of the magical world or were they meant to take power from those undeserving to ensure it was not misused? Only the victor of the battle gets to tell the tale. Athena Flora Roseblood was far from a victor. Being a firstborn Roseblood had cursed her like many others before her. Firstborn women in their line were not meant to meet their first breath of air, they were destined to die, to be sacrificed within the womb to help empower their coven, yet for the first time in two thousand years, a firstborn woman had come screaming into the world. Athena was never been meant to be born. Her blood haunted her from the second she took her first breath, her house divided thanks to thousands of years of lies. Lies that may never come to the light of day. Fear was a powerful totem and after two thousand years of lies, it left Athena trapped within the cage created for her. The abomination, the bastard of nature, the Roseblood Siphoner. Nothing to the world but a mistake and a monster.
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||-Ongoing-|| 'I hate you! I hate you! I'll never be the wife that you deserve!' 'I do not want the wife that I deserve Cassiopeia because it is you that I want.' 'Then,' she hesitated for only a moment, 'I'll never be a wife still yet yours!' she promised him. 'Say that again,' he told her in a hard angry voice, 'and face the rowen,' he dared her. Despite the threat, she climbed out of bed and went to him. She tilted her head to look challengingly at him with her sharp green tear stained eyes. 'I will never be a wife much less yours,' she repeated in a terminal raspy but rather confident voice. He stared at her for a long time, internally simmering. The tension in the bedroom thickened greatly. Silence reigned as their stare down intensified. All in the room stood in trepidation, awaiting his eppy. 'Everyone,' he ordered in a calm yet jussive voice that betrayed the extremity of his anger. 'Out!' he finished. They all festinated out, skedaddling away as quickly as they could before anyone of them suffered from transfer of aggression. And when the door closed with a small click sound behind them, he drew her to him unexpectedly. 'You are mine,' he simply told her with surety before he lipped her. --- 🌫 She knew nothing, except that she wanted out, away from him-the beast. She knew not what she wanted, especially with a damaged head and fragmented memories. But, she just knew that she wanted nothing -absolutely nothing- to do with the monster that always left her in perplexity. --- 🌫 He wasn't what she thought he was. He was what she would never dream to think. He was a part of her and she was a part of him. He would never let her go. She must be there, with him, under his spell, wrapped around his thumb lest everything would go wrong. And if it did, he was the only person who could try, mean try to put it back in place. For with her, nothing wrong could ever be right. --- #3 in Royal love #3 in Satisfying #4 in Fated lov
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The Thread Between Us

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☆ SLOW BURN • DARK ROMANCE • NO SMUT ☆ 〜 They burned her kingdom to ash. Now she sleeps beneath the roof of its conqueror. Clarice, last princess of Sahradyn, was meant to die with her family. Instead, she was spared, dragged across enemy lines and locked in a tower by the man who shattered her world. King Caelen of Velmoras is cold, calculating, and ruthless. He offers her only one choice: become his concubine, or rot in the tower. Yet even as Clarice plots her survival, something stirs between them. A pull. A thread. The old texts call it the soul-thread: a bond said to bind enemies as often as lovers, rare and perilous, long dismissed as myth. But Clarice feels it now, in every glance, every silence, every clash of wills with the man she should hate above all others. As war brews on the borders and kingdoms begin to fracture, Clarice must decide whether the thread binding her to Caelen is a curse to be severed, or a weapon powerful enough to change the fate of empires.