I chased the lost spell alone for years, a ghost in the Irish mist, convinced my defiance was my only god. Solitude sharpened me. Isolation armored me. No man, no code could touch this rebel heart.
Then he found me skirting the sacred stones at midnight, his gravel-rough voice pinning me like a ritual blade. Bare your pride, he growled, and before I could spit my snark, my breeches were down, thighs bared to the chill air and his steady palm. The first crack echoed like thunder in my bones. Shame burned hotter than the torch flames licking red welts across my skin.
Gods, I fought it. Snapped back with breathless barbs, hiding the plea twisting in my gut. But his discipline strips the lies, each measured strike pulling whimpers I never knew I owned. We tangle on mist-damp moss after, sweat-slick and heaving, ancient runes pulsing like heartbeats on fevered flesh. His touch promises redemption I crave but fear, a devotion masked as austerity that makes me ache to yield everything.
The code brands our hunger profane, a pollution dooming holy rites. One more stolen rite under the stars, and exile rips me from my calling, my self-forged soul in shards. Worse, it steals his guiding hand forever. Yet denying him feels like ripping out my own veins. How long can I snarl defiance before his calm authority breaks me wide open, spell be damned?
A full-length gay historical BDSM erotic romance featuring a defiant seeker and a stern enforcer. Includes themes of discipline spanking and forbidden surrender.
