LOGIN He was born in blood, forged in betrayal, and crowned in darkness. She was broken, discarded, and ready to disappear. But when Kane Salvatore, the demon of Beltforte Dominia, drags Castelle Quinn back from the edge, their collision sparks a war. In his arms, she finds her prayers answered—brutal salvation. At her side, he finds freedom from his curse—the peace his demons never let him taste. For Castelle her heart craves darkness, and the demon—Kane— tastes like salvation. Together, they will burn the world that tried to destroy them — and rise from the ashes, king and queen of ruin. The only woman he has ever craved to own and possess. The Queen of his heart that satisfies his every need. "Beautiful," he murmurs. The sight of her—bent over, wrists tied, ass raised, trembling—was a masterpiece. He nudges her legs further apart, admiring the way she opens for him. She's on full display—raw, submissive, exquisite. He pinched her inner thighs, watching her squirm, feeding on her whimpers. Then, he strikes. A sharp slap directly to her swollen clit making her scream. The sound alone could make him cum. He chuckles darkly. It unsettles her—and that’s exactly the point. He grabbed the flogger, trailing its strands over her back, down to her legs. With a swift motion, I bring it down hard. The crack fills the room. Her body jolts, red lines blossoming instantly on her skin. Again on her ass. Again on her clit. She shatters.
View MoreTwo years ago
‘Hey kid,’ said the voice from the other side of the hostel room, in the usual mocking tone that I had come to dread.
I sighed as I turned to look at my roommate, Marianne Weston. A blonde with a figure like a model’s, tall and slim, who hated me for no reason that I could fathom.
Except perhaps that I was so different from her—I came from a small town and was not wealthy, perhaps?
As always, she was lounging on her bed, looking like a million dollars, a cigarette dangling from her perfectly manicured hand.
*
Right, let me introduce myself: I’m Proserpina Martinez, from a small town named Annabel’s Run, and I had to literally scrape through to earn my scholarship to get into one of the best universities in the neighbouring big city of Charlesville.
My roommate’s parents were rich, and that would be an understatement. They fawned on their beautiful, spoilt daughter, lavishing her with presents that were ridiculously expensive, which she discarded as easily as used paper.
Unlike the unabashedly lucky Ms. Weston, I had never seen my father and did not know who he was; my mother had waltzed out of my life when I was three years old. She had gone on a date with a truck driver, promising to be back in a couple of hours.
She never returned.
The only wise thing she had done was to leave me with her sister, my Aunt Beth, before she disappeared. So my uncle, Stan Lawford, a pillar of society, never made me forget what a burden I was on him and his brood of six daughters and how lucky I was to have a roof over my head and food on my plate. Overwhelmed by guilt, I tried to ingratiate myself by taking on the majority of the chores in the house and was soon managing the cooking, for Aunt Beth had a large family with a new baby almost every year.
I was not overly blessed in the looks department either; short and rounded, too busty by half, as my aunt used to sigh, and with my mane of dark chestnut hair, I knew I was no beauty. My mouth was too full, my brown eyes too large...
Working odd jobs, waitressing, babysitting, anything and everything I could do, I had made the money for my Greyhound ticket when I was sure of my scholarship.
I had fled from the pocket-handkerchief town of Annabel’s Run after high school, with a scholarship, no less, which had left my sour uncle amazed. When girls my age were going out on dates or laughing with their sweethearts, I was swotting in the library or scrubbing pans in the diner I worked at in the evenings after school. I had big dreams of getting a job; my childhood fantasy had been finding my mother, and maybe my father too.
But with age comes maturity and I soon figured that neither of them was ever going to return.
*
So I set off with my meagre money and some cash which Aunt Beth had furtively pressed into my hands, my eyes full of dreams.
But the reality in the big city was a lot worse than I had expected.
My roommate, Marianne loathed me. She kept making snide remarks, although I had tried my best to be pleasant when I was allotted the room with her in the college hostel, eager to blend into this new world and make friends. She hated that I preferred to study, making it impossible for her to bring her string of boyfriends around and spend the night with them. Now I huddled on my bed, reading, trying to ignore her evil looks.
I did not fit in with the other students either; with my rather limited and old wardrobe, I was often the butt of snide jokes though I ignored them for the major part. You get to be that way after a lifetime of being jeered at.
Yet my roommate’s continued ridiculing of me stung. I was desperately lonely and with no friends to go out with, I felt miserable and unhappy.
That had been the norm all of last month but this evening, she looked at me, a glint in her lovely blue eyes.
“Wanna hang out with us this evening, Martinez?’ she drawled in her Texan twang.
I sat up, my mouth falling open in shock.
Later on, I was to kick myself for not suspecting something. I should have guessed that she meant no good but then, I was just too glad to be accepted by her, for I was lonely and simply did not fit in.
’Yes,’ I said eagerly and saw the look of devilish glee on her face which she quickly hid. That should have warned me but I was too happy.
‘Then let’s get you dressed,’ she said, a sly smirk on her face, her eyes moving dismissively over my plump frame.
“Uh…where are we going?’ I asked in a small voice for I had no clothes in any way comparable to the Texan girl’s lavish wardrobe.
She shrugged her shoulders and said mysteriously,’ Somewhere you have never been to, baby.’
*
Seven hours later, we were before a large building, dark and foreboding, almost hidden away in an alley.
As we stood before the large doors, I trembled. It was just the cold, I told myself but I was terrified. A feeling of unease pervaded my body and I could not shake off the disquiet that had been with me all evening.
My dress, or what there was of it, was a lacy red thing that barely covered my full breasts and clung to my wide hips lasciviously. It came up to my knees but that was because it belonged to Marianne who was a lot taller and slimmer than me. In fact, I had had to squeeze into it! Marianne had done up my eyes and the smoky look made me look like a different person altogether, someone who was promising a lot…As for my mouth, she had colored it red, a soft, sultry red and I shuddered. If Uncle Stan had to see me, he would drop dead with outrage, I thought, holding back a hysterical giggle.
Swallowing, I asked in a small voice, as I shifted from foot to foot, balancing precariously on my high heels,
‘Ummm…just where are we, Marianne?’
“Shut the f*ck up,’ she hissed as she stepped up to the door and pounded on the massive knocker.
The doors swung open and a man with beefed-up muscles and gelled black hair, scowled at us, his gaze softening as he looked at Marianne.
’We have a pass,’ she purred and he blinked before nodding his small eyes skimming over her proffered hand. His salacious eyes went over me and I shrank, hating the look in his eyes; it made my skin crawl but I moved forward, obediently following Marianne inside as the door slammed shut, closing out the world.
A year passed.And for once, it was a year without blood.The mansion that had once been a monument to pain now breathed peace.The halls no longer echoed with gunfire or fear — only the gentle chaos of family, laughter, and love.Kaira and Kassia were walking now — twin whirlwinds of mischief and giggles, forever chasing after their brother Cael, who had somehow learned to run before he could even talk.Their laughter filled every corner of the mansion like sunlight.Castelle had insisted on planting white roses in the courtyard — “for peace,” she said. Kane had rolled his eyes but secretly ordered more, until the entire southern garden bloomed in pale petals.Lyra had given birth months earlier to a healthy baby boy and named him Lucian She’d cried when she held him the first time, whispering through her tears, “I don’t deserve him.”Lucien had silenced her with a kiss and said, “You deserve everything.”Matteo and Mason had become the mansion’s unofficial comedians, always bicker
The rain came softly that morning, steady and unbroken, as though the sky itself mourned.Everyone stood beneath black umbrellas in the courtyard, faces solemn as the coffins were lowered into the earth. The names etched into the plaques belonged to those who had fallen during Delilah’s last assault — men who had given their lives to defend the Abyss Mansion.Kane stood front and center, his expression carved from stone. Castelle, her rounded belly visible even beneath her dark dress, clutched his arm. When the priest spoke the final words, she lowered her head and whispered a silent prayer, lips trembling.Lucien stood a few feet away, one hand resting protectively on Lyra’s back. Matteo had an arm around Mason, whose face was pale but alive — his laughter, his energy, his fire all dimmed, but his heart still beating.When the last shovel of dirt hit the coffins, the rain eased. No words were said. The family turned away quietly — mourning not just those they buried, but everything t
The sky wept first.A steady, unrelenting rain fell over the courtyard as the black flags of the Salvatore crest fluttered half-mast against the gray dawn. The air was heavy with silence — the kind that pressed on the chest and refused to lift.Rows of coffins lined the courtyard, draped in the family’s sigil: a silver vine intertwined with a burning crown. The scent of wet soil mixed with the faint tang of gunpowder still lingering from the war that had razed the mansion only days before.Kane stood at the front, dressed in black from neck to boots. His expression was unreadable — calm, composed, but the vein at his temple pulsed steadily. Castelle was beside him, her rounded belly visible beneath her black coat, her hand gripping his tightly.Lucien and Matteo stood a few feet behind, both in silent mourning. Rem’s face was hidden under his umbrella, his jaw tight, eyes red but unblinking.The priest’s voice echoed through the rain. “They stood in the shadow of death… and did not f
The sky wept first.A steady, unrelenting rain fell over the courtyard as the black flags of the Salvatore crest fluttered half-mast against the gray dawn. The air was heavy with silence — the kind that pressed on the chest and refused to lift.Rows of coffins lined the courtyard, draped in the family’s sigil: a silver vine intertwined with a burning crown. The scent of wet soil mixed with the faint tang of gunpowder still lingering from the war that had razed the mansion only days before.Kane stood at the front, dressed in black from neck to boots. His expression was unreadable — calm, composed, but the vein at his temple pulsed steadily. Castelle was beside him, her rounded belly visible beneath her black coat, her hand gripping his tightly.Lucien and Matteo stood a few feet behind, both in silent mourning. Rem’s face was hidden under his umbrella, his jaw tight, eyes red but unblinking.The priest’s voice echoed through the rain. “They stood in the shadow of death… and did not f
Kane paced the length of his study like a storm caged within four walls. His hands were clasped behind his back, eyes shadowed, mind miles away. The reports on his desk lay untouched, all his focus consumed by one name.Lyra.Her bruised knuckles. Her trembling frame. Lucien’s haunted eyes every ti
The days bled into weeks.The mansion’s training grounds became Lyra’s second skin — sweat, grit, and bruises etched into her like devotion marks. Zarah, her instructor, was relentless but not cruel. She watched Lyra closely, always saying little, always noticing more than she admitted.Every morni
Lyra barely made it to her room before the nausea hit.She dropped to her knees beside the sink, clutching her stomach as wave after wave rolled through her. Her palms trembled against the tiles, cold sweat slicking her skin.When it passed, she sat back against the wall, chest heaving, eyes unfocu
The room was thick with silence. The machines beside Kane beeped softly, a fragile rhythm against the tension that strangled the air.Kareen sat by his bedside, her eyes swollen, her fingers trembling as she held his hand.The blood transfusion had stabilized him, but no one dared to move or speak.
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