Daemon Targaryen Daughters

Sapphire’s greatest regret came from fucking a stranger she met, a stranger that went on to ruin her life.. But how could she hate him when he gave her three beautiful babies? Her babies must survive so she ran, hiding them from their father with everything she had. Damnation looms for the conqueror alpha king and he must chase after his runaway mate. Unaware of his three babies, he fights to claim her heart. She wlll not make it easy for him. She would bear a hundred whippings rather than be wed to that shameless old wolf that dared to covet someone younger than all of his daughters! She saw red and imagining his face, she threw the nearly empty bottle. The stranger moved so fast he grabbed it in his fist. She drooled at the sight of the most handsome, broad-shouldered stranger she ever saw in her life! When he changed direction,, she found herself rising to meet him. “I’ve never had a woman stone my face in our first meeting before.” . Even his voice was incredibly sexy. She giggled, staggering and he caught her. Their proximity thrilled her and when she stared up at him, she could swear his eyes were alive with lust as he stared at her lips. “I do other things other than stone faces. Want to go upstairs and find out?” She hit a sultry pose but suddenly staggered drunkenly. “You are drunk.” “Very. My clumsy fingers will need help getting out of this tight top. You’ll lend a hand won’t you?” She batted her lashes at him, surprised at her own provocativeness. . He smirked and pulled her in. “As you wish, my lady.” Even before they could get to the room, his taste was in her mouth and...

DIANA SANTORO: Five years locked inside a convent. Not because I was holy. Because the family I was born into is dangerous. My name is Diana Santoro. Mafia blood. And in this world, daughters like me get hidden away until the war is over. Now my brother’s the Don. And he wants me back. The man he sent to collect me? Rocco Moretti. The most feared monster in Italy. The devil of Cosa Nostra. They say he pulls confessions out of men with his bare hands—then sleeps like a baby afterward. Three days on the road. Just us. He’s expecting some scared little nun-in-training, ready to be escorted quietly back to my gilded cage. He has no idea that the only innocent thing about me is this face. **** ROCCO MORETTI: Forty-seven men. That's how many I've killed. Tortured more than double that. Never lost a minute of sleep over any of them. So why does this girl—with her innocent eyes and that smart mouth—make me feel like I'm losing my goddamn mind around every bend of this road? Last night, at some roadside motel, she walked into my room. Ran her fingers over my tattoos, looked up at me with this smirk, and told me she wasn't wearing underwear. What the hell does she want? To destroy me? To see how far she can push before I snap? She's a virgin. Untouched. Off-limits. The one thing a man like me can never have. But when she looks at me like that—wearing that short dress, lips parted just enough—I forget who I am. I forget I'm the monster. And I start wanting, with everything in me, to be the one who ruins her. Even if it costs me my life. Even if it costs me everything.