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19| LUNA.

Author: Dream Shadow
last update Last Updated: 2024-11-25 08:03:14

Unrelenting agony sears through the tips of my fingers as my nails fractured from my frantic attempts to claw my way through the door. My palms are sensitive to touch from all the hammering I've done against the door.

Desperation lingers in the air as my cold and clammy flesh is covered in goosebumps. The misery and grueling sensation of me being pathetic drives me to bang my head against the door over and over and over again.

The uneven surface claws at my forehead, and after what feels like an eternity, the warm trickle of blood paints my brow line to my cheeks.

I release one more gut-wrenching scream, giving it my all. Even though it feels like razor blades slicing away at my throat, I don’t give up until I am out of breath.

If I don’t die from sheer terror in here. I will die by the hands of another. The hands of the man my mother wishes to give me over to.

Why?

Why is she doing this to me?

I am her daughter, her blood, and this is what she does to me.

Her desire to ruin th
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  • Mated By Fate: Cursed By Magic   19| LUNA.

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  • Mated By Fate: Cursed By Magic   17| BLAZE.

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  • Mated By Fate: Cursed By Magic   15| SAFFRON.

    “Remember the last time you played with fire…” Blazes' voice repeats in my head like a broken record stuck in a loop. He’s right. I know he is and so does my wolf, but it doesn’t dampen the sick craving that bubbles in my gut to bring Luna to her knees in pain that quickly leads to arousal, lust and soon a sinful obsession. It wasn’t my fault what happened to Gloria. Shit…She is the one who introduced me to my fire and blood play kink. It’s a mild infatuation, but the excitement and thrill are there. I rub my chest as a dull ache thrums across my heart, and I can feel my wolf whimpering over the loss of our spitfire, Gloria. Her scent is still imprinted on me, and I fear Lunas will quickly overpower Glorias and make it a memory of what could have been if I had paid closer attention to what I was doing. The sensations of guilt, shame, and grief have been carefully crafted into a chest plate that weighs me down, never letting me forget the path of devastation I had created. I was na

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