Mag-log inShare
Part 86
Huling Na-update:
2025-03-14 23:50:58
Kaugnay na kabanata
His Poisoned Rose   Part 87
Her Pov:And now... Waking up in his arms, in this breathtaking place…It feels like I’ve stepped into a different life. One where Leonardo is more than just a man—he is something far greater, something impossible to resist. A force of nature, dangerous yet mesmerizing. And God help me, I don’t think I want to resist him.I force myself to move, to create some distance, but the moment I shift, his grip tightens. Strong. Unyielding. My breath catches as his eyes snap open, pinning me in place with that piercing hazel gaze. My ice-blue eyes clash with his, the silence between us thick with something unspoken. A single second stretches into eternity before he finally speaks.“Good morning, little mischief.”The simple words shouldn’t affect me, but they do. A soft tremor runs through me. He’s never wished me good morning before. And his voice… deep, smooth like velvet, laced with that unmistakable Italian accent. Intoxicating.“G-good morning…” I murmur, barely above a whisper.Leonardo
Huling Na-update : 2025-03-15His Poisoned Rose   Part 88
Her Pov:I freshen up and complete my morning routine before stepping out of the room. The moment I do, a gasp escapes my lips.The sheer beauty of this place is overwhelming. Sunlight spills through towering arched windows, casting soft golden hues over the polished marble floors. The high ceilings are adorned with intricate moldings, and elegant chandeliers dangle like frozen rain, their crystals catching the light in dazzling patterns. Every inch of this house speaks of luxury—so much so that it feels like I’ve stepped into a palace.From the upper floor, I take in the sight of several other doors lining the hallway, their dark mahogany surfaces carved with delicate details. Without knowing what lies behind them, I make my way toward the grand staircase. The bannister, a sweeping curve of gilded iron, is cool beneath my fingertips as I descend, each step echoing softly in the vast space below.The living area stretches before me in effortless elegance—plush velvet sofas arranged ar
Huling Na-update : 2025-03-16His Poisoned Rose   Part 89
Her Pov:I watch as he rises from his chair, his movements slow, deliberate—like a man who is never rushed, never uncertain. He doesn’t glance back as he leaves the room, disappearing down the hallway without another word.The air he leaves behind feels charged, heavy with something unspoken. My fingers tighten around my fork before I set it down, swallowing against the uneasy feeling curling in my stomach.Where are we going?I don’t ask. Instead, I push back from the table and make my way to my room, heart thudding against my ribs. I don’t have anything to change into—I know that. The realization sends a fresh wave of discomfort over me. I didn’t bring a suitcase. I didn’t bring anything.So why does he expect me to get ready?The uncertainty gnaws at me, but I slip into the bathroom anyway, splashing cool water on my face as if that will settle the nerves buzzing under my skin. It doesn’t. It only sharpens my awareness of just how little control I have over this situation.Minutes
Huling Na-update : 2025-03-17His Poisoned Rose   Part 90
Her Pov:The boutique attendants move quickly, carefully wrapping each piece in layers of tissue paper before placing them into elegant bags. Leonardo doesn’t watch them. His gaze remains fixed on me, his presence an unspoken weight against my skin.I exhale slowly, trying to settle the unease curling in my stomach. This should feel like a relief—having clothes, essentials, things that make me feel human again. But it doesn’t. It feels like something else entirely, something I can’t name.I follow him out of the store, the heels of my borrowed shoes clicking against the marble floor. He walks ahead, confident and unbothered, his long strides forcing me to keep pace. Outside, the city hums around us, the heat pressing against my skin as we move toward the waiting car.The driver opens the door, and I hesitate for half a second before sliding inside. Leonardo follows, his scent curling into the small space between us. The door shuts with a soft click, enclosing us in silence once more.
Huling Na-update : 2025-03-19His Poisoned Rose   Part 91
Her Pov:Because even from upstairs, I can feel him watching me.I don’t know how I know, but I do. The weight of his gaze is unmistakable, a silent command pressing against my skin. My fingers tighten around the glass, but I don’t dare look up. I don’t need to.He’s there.Standing near the railing of the VIP balcony, drink in hand, surrounded by men in tailored suits. Yet his attention isn’t on them.It’s on me.A slow shiver rolls down my spine, an awareness so deep it roots itself into my bones. Heat prickles at the back of my neck, and I shift in my seat, bringing the glass to my lips in a feigned attempt at nonchalance. The liquid burns down my throat, bitter and sharp, but oddly satisfying.“Another,” I murmur to the bartender, my voice barely above a whisper.My gaze flickers up, just for a second, and there he is—Leonardo. Dark, consuming, unreadable. Like the drink in my hand, he is potent and bitter, an acquired taste that lingers far too long. But still… still, I crave ano
Huling Na-update : 2025-03-20His Poisoned Rose   Part 92
Her Pov: In the end, only one presence truly matters. And he’s still there. Watching. His gaze is a tether, pulling tight around me from across the room. It’s not just a look—it’s a touch, a silent mark branding itself into my skin. I feel it like a whisper against my flesh, ghostly fingers mapping every inch of me, claiming without a word. Even with distance between us, he holds me. Even in someone else’s presence, I belong to him. And he knows it. I stop dead in my tracks, my breath hitching as an unfamiliar arm snakes around my waist from behind, yanking me against a body that isn’t his. My body crashes into the stranger’s chest, and a shudder of revulsion wracks through me. His touch is wrong—disgusting—sending a sickening wave of nausea rolling through me. Panic claws its way up my throat as I twist in his hold, struggling, pushing, but his grip only tightens, forcing me to move with the rhythm of the music. "Let go of me," I hiss, my voice sharp, desperate. I cl
Huling Na-update : 2025-03-21His Poisoned Rose   Part 93
His Pov:The moment her lips crash against mine, I freeze. Just for a second.Because this is new. This is different.She’s never initiated before. Never reached for me. It has always been me—kissing her, touching her, drawing her in until she either resisted or gave in. But now I know that she feels it, too. She feels the pull, too. And it's not only one-sided.. This... this is her giving herself to me willingly. And fuck, it’s liberating.I don’t hesitate. My arms snake around her waist, pulling her flush against me, locking her in place, where she belongs. My other hand finds her nape, fingers curling, anchoring her, taking control as her arms wrap tighter around my neck. And then I claim her.The kiss turns raw, searing. I take over, dominating, devouring, leaving no room for doubt. Her taste floods my senses—sweet, intoxicating, sinful. She shudders in my grip, her body trembling against mine, but she doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t resist. Instead, she meets me, matches me, let
Huling Na-update : 2025-03-22His Poisoned Rose   Part 94
His pov:The moment she stumbles away, disappearing into the crowd, something inside me coils tight. I don’t move at first, my fingers curling into fists as I replay her words, the hesitation in her voice, the war in her eyes. What was it she wanted to ask me? What was so damn important that even drunk, she couldn’t force it past her lips?I tell myself to let her go, to give her space. But the longer she’s away from me, the more something ugly churns in my gut. I can’t stand not knowing. I need to find her. I need to see her.Minutes pass, maybe more, before I push through the crowd, searching. And then I see her—just outside the club, standing near the curb, looking up at the night sky like she’s trying to count the damn stars. Her hair is a wild mess from my hands, her lips still swollen from my kiss, and yet she looks... free. Lighter than I’ve ever seen her.Something unfamiliar tightens in my chest.She’s drunk. Too drunk. But she’s smiling. Not the small, guarded smiles I’ve
Huling Na-update : 2025-03-23
Pinakabagong kabanata
His Poisoned Rose   Part 106
Her Pov:The sun sinks lower over the Seine, casting molten gold across the water, painting the ripples with liquid fire. The city hums around us—soft laughter from distant lovers drifting through the air, the rhythmic lapping of waves against the stone embankment, the whisper of the wind as it tangles through my dress.Paris feels like a dream, weightless and unreal, but Leonardo beside me is more vivid than anything else.He moves with his usual silent grace, his presence coiled and restrained, like a predator choosing patience over pursuit. The evening glow sharpens the angles of his face and deepens the shadows beneath his cheekbones, making him look like something sculpted from darkness itself. He is breathtaking, but never soft—never safe.A sudden gust of wind sweeps in, lifting the hem of my dress, sending a shiver dancing up my spine. Before I can react, warmth engulfs me. Leonardo moves with a quiet swiftness that steals the breath from my lungs, pressing against my back, h
His Poisoned Rose   Part 105
Her Pov:I swallow hard, looking away from him for a second, trying to gather my thoughts. “Is that it?” I finally ask, my voice barely a whisper. The question lingers, hanging between us, almost absurd in its simplicity.“No,” he says softly, his voice barely louder than the river’s murmur. “There’s more to be freed than just the fish.”I glance up at him, but his expression remains unreadable, as always. But something in the way he looks at me makes my breath hitch, like he’s seeing through every wall I’ve built.He steps closer, and I feel the heat of his presence before I even see him fully. The air between us thickens as though the world is holding its breath. I want to speak, to ask him everything, but my throat tightens, the words sticking in my chest. I stand there, frozen in place, as his gaze holds me captive, just as much as he claims to have done to the fish."They’re just like me..." he whispers, the words soft but piercing, making my chest tighten. His eyes are intense,
His Poisoned Rose   Part 104
Her Pov:Paris stretches endlessly beyond the car window, a blur of elegant streets and towering architecture, but none of it holds my attention. All I see is him—Leonardo, sitting beside me in the backseat, his presence heavy, commanding. He hasn’t spoken much since we left, and I can’t tell if the silence between us is suffocating or intoxicating. Maybe both. His fingers tap lightly against his knee, his eyes staring straight ahead, but I know he’s aware of every movement I make. Every breath.The ride stretches on for hours, the city fading into quieter roads, then almost nothingness. I shift uncomfortably, feeling the slight ache still lingering in my body, a reminder of last night—of him.Heat curls under my skin at the memory, but I push it away. He hasn’t looked at me the same way since this morning, and I hate how that unsettles me. Like I’m standing on uneven ground, waiting for him to either pull me in or push me away.His two men sit in the front, quiet as ever, focused on
His Poisoned Rose   Part 103
Her Pov:When I wake up, he’s nowhere to be seen. The bed is cold beside me, as if he had left hours ago, yet the air still carries the ghost of his presence.Last night, he was all over me. When I drifted into sleep, it was with his scent wrapped around me, his breath mingling with mine, his body pressing down on me in a way that made me feel utterly possessed. Now, with the morning light streaming through the curtains, I feel the stark emptiness of his absence. My fingers brush over the sheets, still slightly wrinkled from where his hands had gripped me, from where his body had pinned me down as he took me, as he claimed me.A sharp ache pulses between my legs, a reminder of just how relentless he was. His thrusts had been merciless, as if he wasn’t just trying to claim my body but my very soul. As if the mere act of having me wasn’t enough—he needed to carve his presence into my skin, into my bones, into the deepest recesses of my mind. And what’s worse? I had wanted it. I needed i
His Poisoned Rose   Part 102
***15 Years ago****His POV:When my eyes cracked open, it felt like waking from death itself.The ceiling above me swayed, blurry and unfamiliar, though I’ve stared at it a thousand times. For a moment, I couldn’t even remember where I was—only the weight of my limbs, the stickiness of blood dried across my skin, and the stinging throb radiating from every corner of my body. My breath came out jagged, uneven, as if my lungs had forgotten how to pull in air.I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Hours? Days? I can’t tell. Sleep doesn’t feel like sleep anymore. It feels like falling into some black hole and clawing my way back up every time, just to fall again.My body—my entire being—felt like it wasn’t mine anymore.My skin prickled and burned, covered in sweat, filth, and blood. When I shifted, a sharp, tearing sensation ripped through my back and arms. I sucked in a breath through gritted teeth, forcing my eyes to move, to look down.Shards of glass.Tiny, jagged pieces embedded in
His Poisoned Rose   Part 101
***15 years ago***His Pov:It’s been three days since my mother pushed me down the stairs.Three days since I felt my body crash against every hard step, bones snapping, skull cracking, everything blurring into nothingness before I blacked out.My right hand is fractured. They had to wrap it in plaster, sling it from my neck like a reminder of how breakable I really am. My head is bandaged too—tight and rough around my skull—covering the deep wound above my eyebrow where they stitched me back together. Seven stitches. I counted them when I woke up, fingers trembling as I traced the skin around them, wondering why I still felt so numb.I don’t even know how I survived.If David hadn’t done something… if he hadn’t begged or screamed for help… I would’ve bled out right there at the bottom of those stairs, and no one would’ve noticed until I started to rot.From the bits and pieces he’s let slip, I think he ran to the neighbours, knocked on their doors in the middle of the night, sobbing
His Poisoned Rose   Part 100
**15 years ago***His Pov:I don’t even know how much time passed while we sat there, lost in the comfort of something that felt almost... normal. Maybe an hour. Maybe two. All I know is the sun had already started creeping higher, bleeding light through the half-closed curtains while we sat cross-legged on the floor of my room, controllers in hand, laughing at nothing and everything as we played my favourite video games.David had woken up too. He’d been with us the whole time, sitting close, occasionally throwing in jokes or grabbing the controller for his turn. It felt like family — not the kind of family I grew up with, but the kind I used to dream about. A soft, peaceful, happy little bubble. It almost felt like Father's Home, when Aunt Rachel used to stay with us, making dessert while the TV buzzed in the background.For once, the world outside my door didn’t exist.Until it did.Until everything shattered in a single heartbeat.A sharp sound cracked through the air — the dull,
His Poisoned Rose   Part 99
**15 Years Ago**His Pov:I flip through the crumpled, half-burned pages of the only thing I have left—the only thing she couldn’t destroy. My fingers trace the torn edges carefully, like they’re made of glass, like they’ll fall apart if I hold them too tight. The paper is stained, corners smudged, some pages singed at the ends. But it’s still here. It's my favourite book. The only one I could save.A sharp sting burns the back of my eyes, and I blink hard, fighting the tears that keep coming even when I tell them not to. A droplet escapes anyway, falling on the brittle page in front of me. The black ink smudges under it like it’s bleeding.Why does she always do this to me?Why does she always hate the things I love?I don’t understand her. I’ve never understood her. No matter how much I try. I’ve always liked quiet things—books, cameras, and games. Things that let me disappear into a different world because this one hurts too much. But to her, those things are worthless. Nonsense.
His Poisoned Rose   Part 98
His Pov:I stand on the balcony, the city lights flickering below like dying embers, as I take a slow drag from the cigarette I borrowed from one of my men. The smoke curls in the air, a temporary distraction, but even that isn't enough.I don’t smoke—not usually. I’ve never needed vices to dull my mind, never sought escape in addiction or meaningless habits. I’ve always been above such weaknesses.And yet, here I am.Because of her.She’s made me crave, made me restless, and made me need.My fingers tighten around the cigarette, the burn at my fingertips, nothing compared to the fire coursing through me. I can’t erase her from my mind. No matter how much I try, she lingers—her ice-blue eyes wide and full of something between fear and defiance. Her swollen lips, parted and trembling. Her teary eyes, her breathy moans and her tight cunt all just leaves me hungrier.The way she looked at me, the way she sounded, the way she felt wrapped around me—so impossibly tight, so warm, so fucking
