Lace Mess.
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- Parts 2
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The King's Captive
My hand lifts without permission, hovering just short of the canvas. Not touching-God, even I know better-but close enough that it feels like heat radiates from the paint. "...Antonio?" Diego's voice is wary. I don't answer. I can't. I'm staring at her the way men stare at omens. "Diego," I whisper, "who is she?" Diego steps beside me, eyes widening. He whistles low. "She's... wow. She's-" "I know." "Antonio," he says, putting a hand on my shoulder, "you look deranged." "I feel deranged." He laughs, then cuts himself off when he sees I'm not joking. My pulse is hammering. I don't even know this girl's name, and yet something in me is clawing forward, hungry, fierce, desperate. I don't believe in fate. I don't believe in destiny or signs or prophecies or whatever nonsense my tutors preached when I was a boy. But looking at her- I almost do. "She's the Princess of Prussia," Diego finally says, reading the tiny plaque at the bottom. "Victoria." Victoria. The name hits like a strike to the chest.
Breaking All The Rules
When the daughter of a legendary drug lord, Rebel clashes with a smooth no-nonsense stranger, who happens to be her play brother's best friend, she quickly learns that if the rules aren't bent, you don't bend them.Complete
A Beautiful Sacrifice
Her village had forsaken her, allowed her to be dragged off to her death, but for Perttu, it wasn't her death he wanted - it was her.Complete
𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄. jaden hossler
they loved eachother, no matter what happened, they always loved eachother, there was rough patches and sometimes they wondered if theyd even stay togetherComplete
My hand lifts without permission, hovering just short of the canvas. Not touching-God, even I know better-but close enough that it feels like heat radiates from the paint. "...Antonio?" Diego's voice is wary. I don't answer. I can't. I'm staring at her the way men stare at omens. "Diego," I whisper, "who is she?" Diego steps beside me, eyes widening. He whistles low. "She's... wow. She's-" "I know." "Antonio," he says, putting a hand on my shoulder, "you look deranged." "I feel deranged." He laughs, then cuts himself off when he sees I'm not joking. My pulse is hammering. I don't even know this girl's name, and yet something in me is clawing forward, hungry, fierce, desperate. I don't believe in fate. I don't believe in destiny or signs or prophecies or whatever nonsense my tutors preached when I was a boy. But looking at her- I almost do. "She's the Princess of Prussia," Diego finally says, reading the tiny plaque at the bottom. "Victoria." Victoria. The name hits like a strike to the chest.
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