thing that moves our weary muscles and overcomes the pain of our wounds is the obsession of claiming our fated mate.
She is brought to us humiliated and disheveled, and yet still her eyes burn with defiance.
We are born to battle. We are born to blood and violence. Aurelians have no master, and when we break our shackles there will be a reckoning.
She will be ours, even if I have to level empires and plunge the universe into war.
I would kill for her, die for her, even as her hatred burns me to the core.
She will be ours.
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