Touch me tender, Break me wild: A Steamy Compilation
Lira's POV
Morning confessional reeked of old wood and sin. I sat in the shadowed booth, veil low, heart slamming against my ribs. Zara's poison failed, but my blade wouldn't. The rosary hung heavy around my neck, beads hiding the star-blade—folded thin, razor-sharp, forged in nebula fires. One slash across his throat, and it'd be done. Queen Mother's voice echoed in my head: "Avenge the desecrated shrines. End the defiler."
The curtain rustled. Footsteps. It was him. Julian slid into the other side, his presence filling the space like smoke. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," I whispered, my voice trembling just right—innocent nun.