All Chapters of THE SILVER LINING: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

He brought his hands down to the elastic waistband of her panties. Pulling her down, he kept on lowering himself until he was kneeling at her feet. Her undies and dress by this time were a messy heap at her feet. She kicked them to the side as he started kissing her vagina. Her soft pink vagina where pressed hard against the lips of her love as his tongue started to lick back and forth across her opening.Rapidly she reached for air and she pulled him down. She put her hands on his head and pulled him in as his hands went around her curvy hips and grasped her buttock cheeks.She moaned in contentment as his tongue probed and found her clit. She was exploding under his tongue whips as the first of her many orgasms swept over her.She took his hair and involuntarily pulled it as she ejaculated into him. "Yes.lick me my love, lick my cunt!" she screamed as her orgasm poured into him.He pinched her ass and pushed her hard against his waiting lips as he allowed her to release all over him.

Not stolen. Not shattered.Only hers.Her life.Her new beginning.He swallowed, eyelids sagging. "No one… sees it.""I see you," she said, her voice barely audible. "Every scar. Every hurt. I see the man Krishna never really knew."Miyal winced.Perfera smiled — subtle, lethal."She allowed you to bleed for her. To stand alone. And when the time came, she turned away. Chose her cause… over you."He glanced aside, jaw clenching."And what did she leave you with?" Her tone turned dark, though still glossed with insincere affection. "A shattered pack. A tainted land. And the kiss of her betrayal.""She… she had her reasons," he muttered, but even the words sounded shallow."She had her ambitions," Perfera contradicted. "Not love. Love remains. Love picks."She leaned in, sitting on him once more, her hair draping like a curtain over both of them. Her lips hovered just above his, voice like velvet-drenched wine."And I chose you."He shut his eyes. "You… did.""I've always chosen you, ev

"Symbol," Perfera interrupted. "To her followers, to the weak-hearted wolves and quivering mages who hoped for miracles. She was their light."She moved closer to the table. "Now she is ash. And light… casts shadows behind."The oldest of the council — a man named Varric who had his left eye gone blind to the Black Sunder — tapped his staff once.We comprehend, my lady. But there is discord within the packs of the south. Rumors of Krishna's return. Visions. Omens. How do we suppress rebellion if they think she lives?"Perfera leaned forward gradually, her voice a silken trap."Let them believe."A moment of silence.Let them whisper her name. Let them pray to her ashes. The more they hope, the more they'll shatter when she doesn't return. Hope is the most delicious poison, Varric. And I will enjoy watching them choke on it."A second elder coughed nervously. "And if… by chance… she did live?"The ensuing silence was cutting.And then Perfera smiled — slow and cruel.“If Krishna lives,

"Send word to the surviving packs," she said at last. "Summon all Luna-blooded to the fortress. Those who do not respond will be classed as traitors.""All the refugees?" the elder asked."Kill them!" Perfera spat, her tone a cold cut through muttering terror.The room lapsed into shocked stillness.A shiver of incredulity ran through the elders and commanders like a pre-shock before an earthquake."Kill them?" Elder Nareth rasped, pushing himself up from the long war table. "They are innocent!""You'll bring the infection right to the center of the Citadel if you won't!" another snapped. "She's right — if even one turns within the gates—""We'll all burn," someone muttered in the darkness.Perfera turned slowly, her gown trailing ash-colored embroidery that shone with dark magic. She didn't need to raise her voice.Her presence did it for her."Order the cleaning," she repeated. "Anyone from the plague zones who comes into the second ward — purge them. Fire and steel. No compassion."

While Crescent Citadel – Outer Barricade, TwilightSmoke filled the skies above the formerly proud Crescent Citadel. The air was thick with ash, blood, and the bitter smell of terror. Past the charred gates lay chaos breeding — tents stretched across muddy earth, crying children in silence, the injured waiting in lines like discarded relics of a world dying. Screams came from the infirmaries. The plague wasn't slowing. It was gaining speed.Miyal stood at the top of the barricade, shrouded in ash-caked silver armor, eyes as hard as stone. Behind him, troops pushed through the crowds of refugees, testing wounds, raising shirts, examining necks and arms for the telltale black veins of infection."Over there!" a guard bellowed. "That one's turning!"A woman in her thirties spasmed beside a ruptured cart, black mucus oozing from her mouth. Her child wailed as soldiers dragged her away."No—no, she's all right! That's my momma! She's just cold—!""GET BACK!" the guards bellowed.The woman