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Daenerys Kills Slave Masters

The Undead's Personal Slave

Samantha never expected to find magic in her hometown, let alone in a dimly lit bar on a rainy Tuesday night. Yet here she was, perched on a barstool at the Black Swan, her world about to tilt on its axis. The air thrummed with an otherworldly energy she couldn't quite place. Ethereal dancers moved like smoke across the floor, their bodies fluid and mesmerizing. As Samantha nursed her drink, she felt the weight of curious stares prickling her skin. That's when she saw him. Marcus. A name she didn't know yet, but one that would soon be etched into her very soul. Their eyes locked across the crowded room, and Samantha's breath caught in her throat. He moved with predatory grace, all lean muscle and barely restrained power. Their first interaction was as intoxicating as it was bewildering. One moment, he was her gallant protector, rescuing her from an overly aggressive drunk. The next, his eyes hardened to chips of ice as he snarled, "Stupid girl," before melting into the shadows. Samantha's mind reeled, but her body hummed with an excitement she couldn't explain. Little did she know, this encounter was merely the first step into a world beyond her wildest fantasies – a realm where vampires ruled the night and pain blurred exquisitely with pleasure. As she delved deeper into this hidden society, Samantha found herself drawn to the intoxicating blend of power, submission, and supernatural allure. The crack of a whip, the whisper of leather, the exquisite sting of fangs – each sensation pushed her boundaries and ignited desires she never knew existed. But with every ecstatic high came the sobering reality of danger. Vampire politics were as deadly as they were intricate, and Samantha soon realized she was a pawn in a game where the stakes were life, death, and eternal servitude. As she left the Black Swan that night, Samantha couldn't shake the feeling that she stood on the precipice of something life-changing. She had no idea how right she was, or how deeply she would fall into a passionate, dangerous dance with forces beyond her imagination. The real question was: in this world where pleasure and peril intertwined so intimately, would she emerge empowered... or lose herself completely?
rach_sales · 123.7K Views

Kill to Rise

Kane staggered through the smoldering ruins of his kingdom, his vision swimming with blood and sweat. Every muscle screamed in protest, every step faltered, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the void in his chest. The imperial prince had razed it all—the palace, the people, everything Kane had ever known. His father’s stern voice, his mother’s gentle touch, the warriors who had once sworn to protect them—all silenced, their dying cries still ringing in his ears. But there was one person he couldn’t let go of. “Julia…” His voice rasped, barely audible over the crackling flames. His heart thudded unevenly as he lurched across the battlefield, the air thick with the stench of death. His sister had been his beacon in this crumbling world, the only one who saw strength in him despite his failings. He clung to a fragile hope that she might still be alive. That hope shattered when he found her. By the lake’s edge, where the water mirrored the flickering flames, Julia lay motionless on the cold earth. Kane’s breath caught, his legs giving out as he dropped to his knees beside her. Her golden hair, once radiant, was tangled with dirt and blood. Her pale skin was marred with bruises, her body exposed—stripped of the dignity she’d carried so effortlessly in life. The imperial prince hadn’t just taken her life; he’d handed her to his soldiers like a trophy, a final cruelty that twisted Kane’s grief into rage. “No… no…” His voice cracked, tears spilling down his ash-streaked face. With trembling hands, he tore off his own tattered shirt—the last remnant of the prince he’d once been. It wasn’t much, but he couldn’t leave her like this. Gently, he draped the fabric over her fragile form, shielding her from the world that had betrayed her. His fingers lingered on the cloth, as if he could somehow give her back the peace she deserved. “I’m sorry, Julia,” he whispered, his throat tight with sobs. “I wasn’t strong enough to protect you…” Guilt gnawed at him, sharper than the wounds seeping through his torn clothes. He had failed her, failed them all—his family, his kingdom, himself. What was left for him now? Ignoring the fire in his limbs, Kane clawed at the dirt with his bare hands, digging a shallow grave. Each handful of earth sent jolts of pain through his battered body, but he welcomed it. She deserved more than this—a proper burial, a monument—but this was all he could offer. As he laid her inside and covered her with soil, his vision blurred, his strength fading. His injuries were too deep, the vial of salve in his pocket too meager to save him. It could dull the pain, perhaps, but he didn’t want that. He didn’t deserve it. When the grave was finished, Kane collapsed beside it, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. Death hovered close, and he was ready to let it take him. Then, a glint of gold caught his eye. Something plumm
Man110 · 1.1K Views
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