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XXVII I Shall Teach You

last update Last Updated: 2025-04-12 05:03:16

Samarth’s brow arched—a single, elegant lift that did little to mask the sting her words left behind. Somewhere deep within, they carved through him like a blade, but he cloaked the wound behind an unshaken mask.

He moved with silent command, fingers weaving into her hair—not cruelly, but with an unrelenting grip. He tugged, tilting her head back to expose her throat, that vulnerable stretch of skin already marked by his lips and teeth.

Her gasp slipped free, hands instinctively rising to brace against his shoulders, but he offered her no comfort. His gaze wandered over the canvas of her body—his mark upon her, glowing like a badge of claim.

“This tongue of yours, Inayat…” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, eyes piercing into hers. She didn’t flinch. She looked back, just as fierce, her jaw locked in unspoken challenge.

She didn’t know—couldn’t have known—his hand had found its way between her thighs, fingers brushing against the molten slickness that betrayed her rage.

“It must b
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Priyanka Srinivasa
i want him begging on his knees for her love wish her to be strong
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  • The Rule   XIII Screaming Silence

    The morning was steeped in determination.Elan’s Hollow was now bidding farewell to the royals, who were finally returning to their homeland after years of exile.How long they had waited to see their land again!Yet leaving Elan’s Hollow weighed heavily on their hearts. They had spent years among its lovely valleys, high hills, and fruitful plains. The forests sang at night to the rhythm of flowing winds — and everything there spoke in whispers of life.How could they forget a place like this?They had made memories.This land had given them shelter.The elders of Elan’s Hollow embraced them one by one — some crying, some holding back tears — and showered them with blessings.Inayat, as gracious as always, invited them to visit Tziyonia. They were forever welcome. The heartfelt invitation melted the hearts of the people, though they had come to expect such kindness from her.They blessed Ayman as well, though they had known him only for a few days.And then they departed.On horses a

  • The Rule   XII Swirling Storm

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  • The Rule   XI Stolen Heart

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  • The Rule   X Union

    The vulture came gliding down from a grey, dust-heavy sky.Its wings sliced the silence, circling low over the blood-damp earth — a graveyard not yet buried. The air still tasted of iron, thick and slow, as if even the wind mourned. Below, the field bore its wounds in the form of scattered corpses, warriors caught between loyalty and fate. Not many, but enough for the vultures to call it a feast.More came behind the first, sweeping in on ragged wings. They landed with indifference, their claws clutching armor and flesh. The soft sound of tearing skin began, wet and rhythmic, as the scavengers began their work.A black boot stepped into view, halting just before one of the dead. Ayman drew back from the blood-soaked ground, his cloak dragging like shadow behind him.From the side, another figure emerged — Abhiman, helmet tucked under his arm, hair matted with sweat, blood splashed across the curve of his cheek like war paint. He grinned, his teeth too white in all this red.“Wasn’t to

  • The Rule   IX Attack

    A figure emerged from the waters, the sound of waves falling softly, flowing gently through the morning air.His muscular arms moved with strength, veins pulsing like flames fed by a sacred fire. He ran his fingers through his damp, light brown hair, slicking it back with practiced ease. As he lifted his face to the sky, the sunlight kissed his sharp features. His obsidian eyes, dark and determined, held fast to the goal ahead.Water slid down his bare torso, droplets clinging to his fair skin, tracing the scars he had earned through survival. Each mark a testament.He took the white cloth laid nearby and wrapped it around his waist as he ascended the rocky steps. The water dripping from his body darkened the stone underfoot, leaving his trail behind as he walked away.Inside the domed bathhouse — its lattice walls filtering golden light like woven silk — he dressed: a clean shirt, sturdy trousers, a belt drawn snug at his waist, and a fitted vest that clung to his well-defined frame.

  • The Rule   VIII Distraction

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