A smirk gradually came to his lips, amused by my demeanor, mocking, “You are naive, Cinzel… things are not perfect as you believe them to be.” I know.

He pressed himself more, quivering, my hands and feet turned cold. The rate of my heart increasing by each passing moment as his lips inclined to my cheeks, dispersing his strong scent in the air and I absolutely hated what his touch did to me.

It. was. Repulsive… but pleasurable.

“But I won’t let it alter my faith.” Which was non-existent. I told him strongly but my words came out as a joke to him.

Letting out a suppressed laugh, chilling my...