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๐๐๐๐ง๐’๐จ ๐ฉ๐๐ ๐จ๐ฉ๐ค๐ง๐ฎ ๐ฌ๐๐๐ง๐ ๐ฉ๐๐ ๐ฃ๐๐ฌ๐ก๐ฎ ๐ง๐๐ฉ๐ช๐ง๐ฃ๐๐ ๐ฅ๐ง๐๐ฃ๐๐๐จ๐จ ๐๐จ ๐๐ช๐ง๐จ๐๐ ๐ฉ๐ค ๐จ๐ก๐๐๐ฅ ๐ช๐ฃ๐ฉ๐๐ก ๐๐๐ซ๐๐ฃ ๐ฉ๐ง๐ช๐ ๐ก๐ค๐ซ๐’๐จ ๐ ๐๐จ๐จ, ๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ฉ๐๐๐ฃ ๐ฉ๐๐๐ง๐’๐จ ๐ฉ๐๐ ๐๐๐ฉ๐ช๐๐ก ๐ค๐ฃ๐. ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ช๐ค๐ฉ ๐ผ๐ช๐ง๐ค๐ง๐ ๐พ๐ค๐ง๐จ๐๐ฉ๐ฉ๐, ๐ฎ๐ข๐ง๐ช๐ข ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ช๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ๐ด๐ด, ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ต๐ถ๐ณ๐ฏ๐ด ๐ข๐ง๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ด๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต ๐ข๐ธ๐ข๐บ ๐ข๐ด ๐ข ๐ค๐ฉ๐ช๐ญ๐ฅ, ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ถ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ข ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ธ ๐ญ๐ช๐ง๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ฃ๐ถ๐ณ๐ช๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ด๐ฆ๐ค๐ณ๐ฆ๐ต๐ด, ๐ข๐ณ๐ณ๐ข๐ฏ๐จ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฎ๐ข๐ณ๐ณ๐ช๐ข๐จ๐ฆ๐ด, ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ข ๐ค๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฅ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ต๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ง๐ข๐ฎ๐ช๐ญ๐บ.
๐๐ค๐จ๐๐ฃ ๐พ๐๐ง๐ง๐๐๐๐ฃ, ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฅ ๐ด๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฅ๐ช๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ด๐ฆ๐ต๐ต๐ช ๐ง๐ข๐ฎ๐ช๐ญ๐บ, ๐ช๐ด ๐ต๐ข๐ด๐ฌ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฆ๐ค๐ต๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ณ๐ข๐ต๐ต๐บ, ๐ฎ๐ข๐ง๐ช๐ข ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ช๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ๐ด๐ด, ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฐ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ด๐ช๐ด๐ต๐ด ๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ต๐ข๐ถ๐ฏ๐ต๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ฉ๐ช๐ฎ ๐ข๐ต ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐บ ๐ต๐ถ๐ณ๐ฏ. ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฃ๐ช๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐จ๐ฆ๐ต๐ด ๐ฅ๐ข๐ฏ๐จ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ด ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ข ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ท๐ช๐ฐ๐ถ๐ด ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ญ๐บ ๐ต๐ข๐ฌ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ข๐ธ๐ข๐บ ๐ง๐ณ๐ฐ๐ฎ ๐ฉ๐ช๐ฎ, ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ญ๐ช๐ฌ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ด๐ช๐ญ๐ญ๐บ ๐ง๐ข๐ช๐ณ๐บ ๐ต๐ข๐ญ๐ฆ, ๐๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ฏ’๐ต ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ต ๐๐ถ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ข ๐จ๐ฐ. ๐๐ฃ ๐ฉ๐๐ ๐๐ฃ๐, ๐ฃ๐ค๐ฉ ๐๐ก๐ก ๐จ๐ฉ๐ค๐ง๐๐๐จ ๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ฌ๐๐ฉ๐ ๐ ๐ ๐๐จ๐จ, ๐๐ช๐ฉ ๐ง๐๐ฉ๐๐๐ง, ๐๐ฃ ๐ฌ๐๐ง.
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ณ๐ข๐ท๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐๐ญ๐ถ๐ฎ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ช๐ด ๐ข ๐ฎ๐ข๐ง๐ช๐ข ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ต๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด ๐ฎ๐ข๐บ ๐ง๐ช๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ณ๐ช๐จ๐จ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ.
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Aurora
It pains me to admit this, but my future captor is fucking hot.
Yes, future captor. Future, as in, within the next hour when he drags me away from here. Captor because that’s his job. Instantly, I hate him for two reasons: for my family sending him instead of coming themselves, and simply because he’s one of them—a monster from the same world that hasn’t acknowledged my existence in many years.
He’s larger than any man I’ve been around—not that that list is particularly long. Standing, he’d easily tower over me, and if I’m honest, would probably break me the moment he touches me. Dark hair and a handsome face. A strong jaw, which I’ve never understood the appeal of, but seeing him, I can appreciate the feature. He’s older than me, by a few years, that I can tell. Mid-twenties, perhaps?
Even his stance exudes power, and as much as I hate to admit it, I wouldn’t mind being overpowered by him. He stands with his back straight and his legs slightly spread. One hand is stretched toward me, while the other is by his side, resting on his hip. I assume there’s a weapon there.
When he speaks, it’s with the most delicious, deep rumble. The kind of voice I’ve imagined in my head in the past, with my fingers stroking between my legs.
“Aurora Corsetti. An honour. My name is Rosen Carrigan. I work for your brother, and I’ve come to take you home.”
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USA Today Bestselling author M.L. Philpitt writes both dark romance and paranormal romance. When she’s not writing made-up realities, she’s reading them. She lives in Canada with her four pets and survives life with coffee and an obsession with fictional characters, especially the morally grey kind. By day, she masks herself as a therapist, and is still waiting for her Hogwarts letter so she can be sorted into her Ravenclaw house.
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