He loved her yet he loathed her.
She was his pride yet she was his humility.
He could sacrifice himself to save her yet he could kill her save his dignity.
For him she was the metaphor of hate but then why did she became his definition of love? Why was her life so complicated around him?
Rediscover with me a love saga full of deception, humiliation , lies, betrayal, hatred and the small seed of love sprouting amidst all.
~ii Excerpt From The Story ii~
Holding her neck in a vile grip, he pushed her petite frame ruthlessly against the rock-strewn wall of the bleak cave and captured her lips with his in a battle of dominance. The harsh jagged ridges of the wall pierced through the silk fabric of her shirt, penetrating the delicate skin of her back. She whimpered as fresh batches of cuts were sliced open yet she refused to respond to the kiss. Not the one to give up, she pursued her lips in a thin line and tried to push him off her. She felt disgusted, his touch sickened her.
The feel of her cool skin on the sweltering hard planes of his chest made him hard and his arousal throbbing. He was intoxicated in her touch. He grasped her slender waist brutally, his claws digging into her flesh and marring her porcelain skin with crescent cuts. She moaned painfully and pushed him with all her might. Enraged at her show of rebel he squeezed her neck suffocating her; he took her lower lip between his teeth, nibbled and nipped at it mercilessly till the tangible coppery taste of her crimson blood filled his mouth.
Stifling a sob, she shut her eyes tight as a lone drop of tear made its way past her kohl lined eyes, one that spoke of her helplessness, of hopelessness at being at the demon's mercy. The drop of moisture from her eyes traced an indefinite path along her cheek and ultimately landed on his calloused clawed fingers. He was jostled back to the reality and left her mouth at an instant. He painfully stared at her tear-stricken face. Her tears had moved something within him, something deep. He shoved her battered body onto the floor and howled as another wave of pain shook him. He could feel the beast within him scratching his insides, ready to surface.
She watched, horrified, as his claws elongated, his warm brown orbs flickering to black cornea with blazing yellow slits. Grasping onto the last bit of his coherent mind, he pleaded her, "R-Run Sanyukta. R-Run before i-it's too l-l-late."
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This, my friends, is a supernatural fiction. Unfortunately this is not a vampire fiction but something akin to that. I can never justify the level of all those numerous brilliant Vampire fics that have been penned down already.
This is a werewolf fiction but a twisted version to be exact,
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