Beneath A Ruthless Sun Novels & Stories

"Oh, absolutely not. I know a branding tyrant when I see one." Aaliyah said, "Haley, maybe do not antagonize the nuclear sunrise." "Too late." Haley went live again, squinting into impossible gold. "Quick reminder: sunlight is great. Forced worship is not. Suns do not get applause for basic job performance." Ra's boat turned toward her. The old goddess laughed. It was a small laugh, cracked and amazed. Ra did not laugh. The solar boat fired a beam of pure dawn at Nightingale. Jack moved.

It was a place of immense power and unbearable heat—a fitting abode for the god of the sun, where only the most resilient could withstand the intensity of his presence. As Helios reclined on his throne, his robes of golden silk shimmering like liquid fire, his eyes—bright as the heart of a star—fixed on the girl lying unconscious in Solas’s chamber. The contrast between his opulent surroundings and the cold, dark cave where Solas languished was a constant reminder of the justice he had dealt to his son. Solas, with his growing powers, had dared to challenge his authority, dared to overshadow the brilliance of the sun with his own icy glow. For that, he had been condemned to the shadows, a fi

Blinding sunlight poured without mercy over every inch of my bare body as his hard, scorching frame pressed down over me with ruthless intent. He gripped my waist and drove my hips up high, positioning me in an irresistibly exposed arch. My lips were laid completely open to the glaring light, slick and parted, the sheen of my arousal catching the sun in a way that made the whole wide stretch of beach feel like it was watching every shameless detail of me.

​They were glowing. ​The black veins on their wrists were pulsing with a brilliant, golden light that pushed back the green shadows. Sula was standing in the center of the crowd, her spear held high, the solar glass tip burning like a miniature sun. The emerald glass crawled toward her feet and then shattered, unable to cross the circle of the nomads’ natural heat.

The sun rose above the sky. The smell of wet soil and dew wafted around the air. The harsh rays of the sun glittered on the two naked bodies entangled inside a picnic tent. Blessing's eyes fluttered open, blinking severally to clear sleep from her eyes. She looked at the naked man beneath her. Things had gotten out of control the previous night all because she was horny. She traced her slender fingers on his arm down to his abs. Her eyes stopped on the left side of his rib. There was a mark, as if sharp nails were embedded in his flesh.

evening sun, but the city’s beauty belied the storm brewing beneath its surface. Amara Varela paced the terrace of their temporary safe house, her mind a tempest of strategy, suspicion, and the lingering heat of desire. Every report she received, every whisper in the underground, told her the web of betrayal was far more insidious than she had imagined.

Born in darkness" won the temple Area and exulted bloody victory. But in an instant their mood changed dramatically when one of the warriors noticed what was happening on the horizon: "Turn around!" one of the warriors said to his tribe, " Born in darkness, "and all in the tribe," Born in darkness, " including trust, saw the Sun flash, and a wave of fire was coming toward them. Each of them watched in horror the last moments of their lives. At that moment at home Sodium and Averta watched the dying Sun on the horizon for the last time and said their last words to each other: "Take your last breath!" with tears in the face quietly asked Averta and looked at his eyes.

*** The world beyond is harsh, dry and unforgiving. Every step is a battle against thirst, against exhaustion, against the merciless sun hanging like a molten god overhead. But I eventually make it to the Southlands. Its barren land stretches out before me with endless dunes of gold and yellow, broken only by the jagged ribs of rocks and the blackened bones of dead trees. Heat shimmers off the cracked earth, bending the horizon into restless, flickering waves. I travel fast, pushing my body beyond reason, keeping to what little shade I can find. My clothes, soaked through with sweat, dry almost as quickly, leaving crusts of salt along the seams and edges.

Purplish bruises rest around her tanned hips and shoulder—the intense sunlight did nothing whatsoever to tarnish Vladimir’s desire in making Zheira’s life a living hell, at least that’s how she saw it. The scorching sun peered below the field, illuminating the dazzling golden leaves on the trees lining up in the corner. As a tall figure sprinted through it, the leaves would start to fall. Like some kind of rain that danced on the rooftop, it bounced on the ground with a muffled thud. The figure cursed as her feet started to grow numb. Aside from all the early-morning exercises, she had to endure running in the field she had learned to call the never-ending chase. Whoever engineered this hell

Alessandro repeated under his breath, like a curse. And then — just like that — the air shifted again. From lunch. To business. To blood. As it always did.