Ronan Ronan sat on the edge of his bed, still shirtless, the bite of early dawn air brushing over his skin. His wrists bore faint red marks, not from violence but from surrender. The rope was gone, the woman too. But the memory remained burning, clear, and visceral. He ran a hand through his hair, gripping the strands tightly. The ache in his muscles wasn’t from battle or a shift it was from relinquishing control. And it was the most terrifying, euphoric pain he had ever felt. He'd never been touched like that. He had expected shame. Regret. A hollow echo of something temporary. Instead, what lingered was unsettling in its honesty. It had cracked something in him something old and aching, buried beneath centuries of dominance and suppression. He’d thought he had mastered control. Talia showed him he had only ever feared losing it. Talia's voice echoed in his head low, commanding, reverent in the way it summoned obedience. He remembered how she had stripped him emotionally before s
Last Updated : 2025-05-06 Read more