The Myrtle Vow

The Myrtle Vow

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WpMetadataReadComplete Sat, Jun 6, 20262h 24m
His gaze was cold, unyielding. "You cannot give me what I want." Her heart thudded. "What do you want?" "Death." His voice was like ice cracking. "Can you kill an immortal, Calantha?" ***** Some stories begin with love. Mine begins with a man who has lived for ten thousand years and his only wish is to die
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Alaric Thorne didn't just enter a room; he haunted it. Standing at a towering six-foot-three, he was a masterpiece of gothic tragedy. His face was a landscape of sharp angles and porcelain-pale skin, unmarred by the sun for a decade. But it was his eyes-void of warmth, heavy with shadows-that truly paralyzed me. He smelled of cold sandalwood and the sweet, cloying decay of old roses, a scent that promised both a sanctuary and a grave.

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