Page 119 of Warlord's Plaything

Nothing held back.

It is war.

It is desperation.

It is a goddamn battlefield of need and fury and regret and longing.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, yanking, pulling, forcing me closer even though we are already as close as we can fucking be.

My chains rattle between us, a cruel reminder of my reality.

But I stop caring.

Not when she’s here.

Not when she’s burning for me the way I burn for her.

I flip her, slam her against the wall, press my body into hers until she gasps.

"I thought you betrayed me."

The words are a growl, guttural, ripped from the darkest parts of me.

Her breath shudders.

Her fingers tighten, nails biting deep into my back, through the torn remnants of my shirt.

"I thought I’d never see you again."

And fuck, that does something to me.

If she is lying, she is doing it with every inch of her body pressed against mine.

And if she is telling the truth?—

I might break.

"You should hate me."Her voice is a whisper, her lips against my jaw, my throat.

"I do."I bite back, but my hands say otherwise, my fingers tightening around her waist, dragging her closer.

"Then why are you shaking?"

I don’t fucking know.

What I know is this might be the end of us.

And if I die tomorrow, I am taking this.

I am taking her.

One last time.

The tension snaps.

Everything turns violent, raw, unbearable.

She moves against me like she’s trying to carve herself into my bones, like she wants me to feel her long after I’m gone. Her hands are everywhere—tangling in my hair, clawing at my chest, gripping my chains like they’re the only thing tethering us to this land.

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