Starving Lyrics

*Smut* Ariana Blackwood lost everything the night she couldn't shift, her wolf, her family, her future. Dying of cancer with three months to live, she makes a devil's bargain with the cursed Ashford twins: one year of satisfying their insatiable needs in exchange for survival. But when her true nature awakens as a legendary pure-breed Alpha, the wolfless reject becomes the most powerful female in their world. Now she'll reclaim everything stolen from her and break the curse consuming her mates. Her former pack wanted nothing to do with a wolfless girl. They're about to learn what happens when you reject a queen. --------------------- Kade sat back against the headboard, his legs spread, stroking his cock lazily as he watched. Kane guided me onto all fours, positioning me between his brother's thighs. My face was inches from Kade's throbbing length, and I didn't hesitate, I leaned forward and took him into my mouth. "Fuck," Kade groaned, his hand tangling in my hair as I swirled my tongue around the tip. He was huge, stretching my lips wide, but I took him deeper, hollowing my cheeks and bobbing my head. Behind me, Kane shed his clothes, his body a mirror of Kade's, broad shoulders, rippling muscles, and a cock just as impressive. He knelt on the bed, his hands gripping my ass cheeks, spreading them apart. "Such a pretty pussy," he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. Then his tongue was there, lapping at me from behind, long, flat strokes that had me moaning around Kade's cock. Kane ate me out like a starving man, his tongue delving deep, flicking my clit before sucking it into his mouth. His fingers dug into my flesh, holding me steady as I rocked back against his face.

My stepmother, Mary, hated me to the bone. All because when I was little, I went to a classmate’s house to play and forgot to close the courtyard gate. Her son ran onto the road and was hit to death by a car. My father loved my younger brother the most. After learning what happened, he was heartbroken. “Were you jealous of your brother? That’s why you deliberately left the gate open?” I desperately explained that I had closed the gate, but Dad didn’t believe me. He locked me in the basement and raised me like a dog for the rest of my life. Until one day, when Dad went on a business trip, Mary didn’t give me any food for three days. Starving, I crawled upstairs to the kitchen to look for something to eat. That was when I saw Mary sitting on a man’s lap, saying softly, “If you hadn’t forgotten to close the gate back then, I wouldn’t be living in fear every day of my husband finding out… We’re the ones who killed Ethan.” Only then did I understand that I wasn’t the one who had forgotten to close the gate and caused my brother to run outside, but my stepmother’s lover. Just as I was about to sneak back to the basement, my stepmother noticed me. “What did you hear? No! I can’t let your father find out that I killed our own son!” In a panic, she grabbed me and threw me down the stairs, killing me on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day the car hit my brother. I blinked my innocent, childlike eyes and pointed upstairs, speaking in a soft, baby voice, “Dad, I closed the gate. It was the man in Mom’s bedroom who didn’t!”

“You stare like you’re trying to memorize me,” she murmured quietly, without looking up. He stepped closer, voice rough. “I already have. Every inch. Every sigh. But I still feel like I’m starving for you.” He walked up behind her. His fingers trail over her collarbone, slow, reverent. She shivers. “You shouldn’t touch me like that,” she whispered. “Say stop, and I will. But don’t lie.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against the side of her neck. Her breath hitched. “This… this is dangerous.” He murmured, “You’re the most dangerous thing in my life. I’ve killed men with steadier hands than I have when I’m near you.” She turned to face him, their eyes locked. One look—everything trembled between them. “Let me ruin every thought you have of gentleness, Inayat. Let me be the fire you crave but don’t dare name.” He lifted her, gently, set her on the table beside the couch. His hands lingered on her thighs, the tension coiling like smoke in the air. He whispered, “You asked me once why I watch you like I might break. It’s because loving you has become my most violent instinct.” *** When King Agnil is betrayed and slain by his own commander, Samarth, his kingdom falls into chaos—and his daughter, Inayat, becomes the obsession of the man who murdered her father. Years later, the exiled prince, Ayman, returns to reclaim the throne. His plan? Use Samarth’s sister as a weapon of revenge. But as vengeance tangles with emotion, Ayman finds himself torn between justice and the forbidden pull of love. Can he destroy the man who stole everything—without losing the girl who might save him?

When the factory director’s son dragged my drunk fiancee into the supply warehouse, I pretended as if I did not see them. I just turned around and walked away. In the past, I had ruined my own future by rushing in and beating the factory director’s son up. I was even framed for stealing the supplies from the warehouse. When the warehouse keeper came over with the police officers, my fiancee deliberately ripped her own clothes. She cried and said that she came with the director to stop me from committing the crime, but I beat her up and even defiled her. Everyone despised me, and I became a criminal. My fiancee’s parents could not bear the rumors, and they forced me to marry her. But that marriage was only the start of a hellish life. She lived like a queen at home, yet she told everyone I was starving her. When she got pregnant, she deliberately pushed her belly against the corner of the table. Then, she stood in the courtyard and cried. She claimed I had abused her, and I wanted to kill my own baby. My parents felt bad for me, so they borrowed money from everyone they knew to get her a job. But when she landed on the job, she framed my father for stealing the steel from the factory. Half a year after my father was imprisoned, he passed away in jail due to an illness. My mother could not bear the stress and fell severely ill. She also passed away soon after. When I was pinned under the collapsed brick wall at the construction site, she did not call for help. Instead, she picked up a brick and smashed it into my head. “If you were not so nosy, Jeremy and I’d have been together already. We wouldn’t have wasted so much time!” My head bled, and I was buried beneath a pile of rubble. When I opened my eyes again, I was at the entrance of the supply warehouse. From inside, I heard my fiancee’s soft, teasing murmurs.

My father died of esophageal cancer. For the final two years of his life, he could barely swallow anything. By the time he passed, he was nothing but skin and bones. The first New Year after his death, he came to my mother in a dream. "I'm starving," he said. "I just want to taste the thick-cut steak you used to make." My mother believed it without question. That very day, she pan-seared a large platter of steak and carried it to his grave. The next morning, she suffered a sudden heart attack and died on the spot. Devastated, I handled my mother's funeral together with my husband. That same night, my husband dreamed of my father as well. "Chester," he said, "I haven't eaten in so long. I want your pâté, served with some strong liquor." When my husband woke up, he bought the finest liver pâté, opened a bottle of single-malt whiskey, and went straight to the grave. However, not long after returning home, he collapsed from acute liver failure. He was rushed to the ICU and died three days later. I was on the brink of collapse myself. I left my daughter in the care of a close friend while I tried to handle the endless wave of tragedy. That evening, my daughter never came home from school. I searched everywhere, and finally, on the road to the cemetery, I found her. She was clutching a bowl of spicy stew, several grilled sausages floating in the broth. "Mom," she said, "Grandpa and I used to eat this all the time. I dreamed he said he was hungry." I finally lost it. I knocked the bowl from her hands and carried her home. That night, my father appeared in my dream once more. "I suffered so much while alive," he said. "Have some pity on me. "New Year's is coming. I want to come home for a meal. Make sure you cook fish." I woke in terror. Holding my daughter, I sat before the three framed portraits for two full days without eating or drinking. On New Year's morning, I realized she was no longer breathing. Clutched tightly in her hand was a packet of spicy dried salmon. I could not believe it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my mother, her eyes red with worry, said she was going out to buy steak.