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A message from the Author

I’m so thrilled to introduce you to Dysmas, although this book is not for the faint of heart, and may be rattling for some readers because in this story the villain is the hero, beauty arises out of darkness, brokenness is soaked in passion and drowned in despair, where love and death embrace.

18+ recommended

My love for you is stronger than death.
My desire for you is passionate like a rebel's
longing for the underworld, blazing like fire
with devouring flames.

Special Thank You

To my beautiful friend and sis of my ♥
R&C Christiansen.
Thank you for waiting a whole year for the Dysmas English version, and then another four weeks for the manuscript to arrive.
I loved that you yelled and screamed at the postman!! Thank you for your support, encouragement and feedback. This book is for you because, without you, it would not exist.
Love you for eternity. xxx


The warm light of the setting sun lets the interior of the shop shine in a mysterious glow. I’ll close in a minute.

Lost in thoughts, I look out the window at the small, romantic alley that seems so quaint. Lush rose bushes bloom in large flower pots in front of the house entrances. Wild ivy meanders playfully along the windows.

As always, the small quarter looks picturesque and peaceful.

But the idyllic, harmless appearance is deceptive.

Jerusalem is a dangerous city, full of violence and crime under the brutal Roman occupation.

In addition, the area is considered a dangerous place, full of rebels, robber gangs, and insurgents who are active against Roman rule.

I’m Persian, but Jerusalem is my hometown, mostly because I grew up here. My family ‌returned to Persia a few years ago.

Unfortunately, my older brother Ahasveros has been responsible for me since then. My father gave in to my plea to stay in Jerusalem, but not without a demand. Ahasveros had to promise him he would find a wealthy husband for me and get me married when I turned nineteen at the latest.

I was sixteen when my family left us. My nineteenth birthday seemed so far away back then, and to be honest, I hoped my brother would forever forget the promise he made to our father. I deeply hoped he would let ME choose the man I would fall in love with.

But I was so wrong!

Ahasveros takes the promise seriously and had already chosen a man for me when I was seventeen years old.

His attempt to marry me has turned into the biggest nightmare of my life. Not only did I not love the man my brother had chosen. I didn’t even come close to liking him, either. I begged and urged my brother to break off the engagement, which he had already sorted out with the older and richer man.

After I had cried endless tears of utter despair, Ahasveros gave in.

Very pissed off and with a warning: There will be no going back with the next man he’ll pick for me.

As I stare out of the window, I suddenly notice a tall, muscular man in dark clothes hurrying towards my shop.

When he enters the shop, I can’t help but stare at him, fascinated.

He looks thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

His eyes are ringed with thick black liner. His face is distinctive and full of scars all over his forehead and chin. A rough shadow is spread over his cheeks.

His tunic is pitch black. The neckline of the noble robe is held together only loosely with fine cords and reveals a steel chest.

His black leather sandals are dusty, several knives and daggers are attached to his black leather belt. His cloak is black, made of expensive materials.

His ears are pierced with lots of golden earrings, he is wearing several necklaces with amulets, and a gold ring shimmers on almost every finger.

His long hair is the darkest black and falls disheveled over his shoulders.

I can’t stop staring at him, neither does he avert his dark eyes.

After a couple of seconds, he throws me a brief smile, then his dark gaze wanders around the shop. Countless different perfume oils, filled in different colored, small ceramic bottles, are beautifully presented on several wooden shelves.

A deep passion for the wonderful world of fragrances has filled my heart from an early age. With a shop like this, a dream of mine has come true.

The mysterious stranger looks at the individual bottles with an expert eye.

As a certain perfume oil has caught his interest, he grabs the ceramic bottle and opens it without hesitation.

When he drops a few drops of the valuable oil on his steel arms, I get nervous. Those oils cost almost a fortune, and are not supposed to be opened by customers before buying. “Excuse me, sir, this oil is not for opening, nor for spilling it over your arms until you have bought it.”

As I step towards him, his dark, masculine scent hits me.

The fragrance is heavy and intimidating.

It is Opium mixed with Ambra and seldom wood fragrances from Egypt, most likely.

“I know the worth of these exquisite oils very well, sweetheart,” his voice is deep, his gaze penetrating.

The man starts to scare me.

As he is very tall and so much stronger than me, I’m clearly at his mercy.

If he wanted, he could smash the entire room with just one fist.

I start to panic.

As I stare at him in fear, my mouth is dry, my knees tremble.

That man is definitely an insurgent, an evil one.

My brother has warned me about them.

Where is my brother? Ahasveros should be back by now.

My heart starts racing.

“There is no reason for you to be scared, sweetheart,” he mutters, as he places the bottle in my hand.

“I’ll buy this oil and I also need three bottles of a cedar- and tea tree oil mixture, the best ones available, baby.”

I try to focus on his words and nod.

His eerie look rests on me for a while. His cold eyes seem to notice my insecurity. That makes me feel uncomfortable.

When he reaches into the pocket of his tunic, my heart almost stops beating. Is he reaching for a knife, wanting to kill me?

When he pulls out a small bottle, I sigh in relief. It’s perfume oil, I think.

As he is dripping some oil all over his fingers, I step backwards and crash my back against a shelf.

“Are you moving away from me, kitten?” He growls and comes closer.

In one fluid motion, he runs his oily fingers over my chin, my cheeks, and my forehead. I freeze at his touch and shiver in panic.

His dark scent fills my lungs once again, but this time it is so intense that I have to cough. “Uh, rabbit, do you have trouble swallowing my scent?”

I ignore him and try to wipe the oil off my face, but with no success.

I feel dazed as I try not to breathe.

When I catch air desperately, he gives me a dark smirk.

“That’s right. Breathe it all in. You are such a good girl,” he growls, his gaze petrifying. My eyes fill with tears as I realize he is playing with me, obviously aroused by my terror. To my confusion, I am strongly drawn to him even though I am afraid of him. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he grumbles.

“And now be a good girl and lock the door behind me. Lock the window also, because the wicked will be around here soon.”

I stare after him, irritated when he walks out the door and pushes it closed behind him with a rough slam.

His fragrance is all over my face and makes it difficult to think clearly. Has he drugged me?

I lock the door quickly and also close the wooden shutters of the windows. My heart is racing as I’m overwhelmed by a storm of emotions.

I light some candles and fall on a chair at the tiny table, right beside the door, trying to clear my thoughts.

The man is a villain. A dangerous one. That I’m sure of.

I wonder where he comes from.

He does not look like a Roman, nor does he sound Jewish, however there is a hint of a Greek accent in his spoken Hebrew.

Creepy and fascinating at the same time.

I sigh.

The villain’s scent has filled the entire shop. Therefore, I open the back door to let some fresh air in. The last thing I need is a heavy masculine scent hanging around, clearly not identified as one of ours, which would make my brother suspicious instantly.

I’ve decided not to tell my brother anything.

I’m too scared of Ahasveros’ reaction and the consequences which would not be in my favor. He would forbid me to work in the shop ever again, as he already has considered many times to lock me into his house until I get married and put under the protection of a man he has chosen. Slowly, I walk up the steps to my tiny bedroom, which will not be mine for much longer. Since I have only lived here for three months, it is a shame.

My happy, independent life, as far as I can call it independent, with being under my brother’s control, will end way too soon.

Ahasveros has never been happy with me, wanting to sell the perfume oils I have created all by myself.

His house is close to my luxury shop, so he can check on me several times a day, or send his servants over to make sure I am okay.

I pour myself a cup of a hot herbal drink and force some rice with chicken sauce down. The stranger’s scent fills my soul like a dark cloud.

Maybe I should take a bath to wash his perfume off my face.

A nice, relaxing bath would definitely calm me down.

I love my cozy, dark bathroom, only lit up by three candles in each corner, melted on rustic iron stands.

As I take a deep breath, the mixture of jasmine oil, rose oil and lemon oil, comforters of the soul all together fill my lungs. I slip out of my tunic and undergarment, pour the water and the oils into the tub, and let my body slide into the water. The honey-like, sweet floral scent always gives me a rare moment of happiness.

As I enjoy the hot water covering my body, my thoughts drift back to the villain. His scent is still sticking to my cheeks and chin, even when soaked in water, obviously not possible to wash it off at all.

Has he marked me for some reason?

A shiver goes down my spine. This man has strength, the sort of dominance that makes me feel weak.

I flinch as a sudden knock on the door throws me out of my thoughts.

My brother, most likely.

“Can I come in?” I hear his voice from outside.

“No, not now, I’m taking a bath,” I shout at him, getting angry.

“Get out, Leyla. We need to talk,” he demands.

“Can we talk later?”

Let me enjoy my bath, idiot!

When he pushes the door open, I cover myself with my arms, feeling pissed off. “I do not want to disturb you very long, little sister,” he states, getting hit by a cold look of mine. “There are insurgents around, therefore the shop will be closed from now on.”

“You are not serious!” I snap back. My eyes fill with tears.

He looks at me with concern.

“I am responsible for you, Leyla, and I cannot risk having you in danger.

It was a bad idea from the very start. Jerusalem is way too dangerous for you to run a shop by yourself. Sorry, little sis.

That. Was. It. Your future husband will arrive next week. There is no way for you to get out of it this time. You will marry as I say. I love you, little sister, and therefore I care. See you tomorrow,” he finishes and walks out the door.

The tears I tried to hold back flow down my face, salty, and bitter with the taste of hopelessness and despair. Dark thoughts flood my mind as I step out of the bath tap and wrap a towel around my wet body. I dry myself off quickly and slip into my silk night garment.

I can hardly stop crying.

There is only one way out of this misery.

The desert of Judah.

Before Ahasveros can introduce me to the man he has chosen, I will be gone. I can feel the edge of the sharp mountains waiting for me, beckoning me with the promise of death. I’d rather die in dignity than be degraded and raped for the rest of my life. I fall into bed, feeling tired and exhausted. My eyelids grow heavy as the villain’s strong, dark scent numbs me as I drift off to sleep.



As I walk towards the scent shop the next day, I notice the door is closed.

It is late evening already. My feet are dusty as always, my arm heavily wounded.

Bleeding like crazy. Fuck. The last fight was not an easy one.

I’ve killed that asshole, at least.

Gonna pick up the oils, make the girl mine and get some whiskey later. Fuck. The door is locked. I knock against the wood with my fist and check out the lock. Easy to open for a criminal like me. As I work on the door lock, I get interrupted when the door opens from the inside. There she is. Fucking beautiful. I want to kiss that mouth badly. She stares at me with big dark eyes.

“Can I come in?” I ask. She nods. I step in quickly, grab the key from her hands and lock the door behind me.

The room is dark, only a few candles are glimmering.

“I guess you are here to pick up the oils,” she says in a nervous tone.

I notice her eyes are a little swollen, and it looks like she has cried.

“That is it, sweetheart. Is the shop closed already?”

She is utterly attractive, and her perfect body drives me crazy.

“Yes, sir,” she answers. Her face turns pale as she notices my heavily bleeding arm.

“Do you have a needle and thread at hand? I could do with a little help here.”

I point at the deep wound. Tendons and muscles are exposed.

She looks unsure, like she is about to vomit.

I let myself fall on the seat next to me, resting my bleeding arm on top of the table, ready for her to please me.

She rushes to the counter frantically, rummaging in a drawer, obviously looking for the tools I asked for.

Good girl.

“Now come over here and do as I tell you,” I demand.

As she comes closer, I notice her sweet scent. It drives me nuts. Rose oil with a touch of peach. You will be mine soon, my darling.

That. Is. It. For. Sure.

Her beautiful face is horrified as she stares at the blood dropping from the table on the stone flooring. She is obviously scared.

“Baby, come closer,” I whisper.

“Now put the needle and the thread right here on the table. That’s it. Now bring the oil, which I ordered yesterday.”

She does as I say, her hands shivering. I notice she has difficulties handling the sight of blood.

“Now sit down,” I order. She takes the seat beside me, her face glimmering in the candlelight, her big dark eyes gazing at me.

“Put the thread through the needle.” She does as I say, nervously staring at the revealed muscles. “And now pour some oil over the wound,” I say, watching her struggling with this fucking situation. The oil burns wickedly, as always.

“Now sew up the wound.”

She hesitates. I grab her wrist and pull her towards me.

“Now push that needle right here through the skin, baby.”

She does as I say, and her fingers shake.

“Go deeper and tighten that thread,” I instruct further.

I have no difficulties handling pain. Wounds like this one are nothing unusual.

But my arm repels this little girl in horror, she is fighting not to collapse.

My blood covers her hands and drops on her silk clothing.

My blood definitely suits her.

She works quick and concentrated, but is pale as fuck.

My injury is sewed up in a few minutes.

She sighs as she puts some more oil on my arm.

I wrap a fabric around my arm quickly, and finally we are done.

She lifts one of her long curls off her face and looks at me, not sure what to do next. Fuck, she is pretty.

“Well done, sweetheart. What is your name?”

“My name is Leyla,” she whispers.

I like that name.

And I bet she is a virgin.

“Leyla, the most beautiful night of all nights,” I growl.

The meaning of her name coming from my mouth makes her jump up quickly. She is seeking a distance, provoking me against her favor.

And she has no idea.

“What is your name?” she asks in a blunt tone, taking another step backwards. “I’m not here to answer questions,” I say sharply.

“I’m the one to ask questions. Where are you from, sweetheart? From Persia or Syria?” She hesitates, looking curious.

“Are you going to tell me, sweetheart?”

Her beautiful big eyes flash as she asks in a resistant tone:

“Where do you think I come from?”

Do you really want to know, baby? Straight from Venus, I guess, made for me, to devour every day for dessert.

“Your accent is clearly Persian. Why didn’t you want to tell me?”

“I’m not talking to strangers about my private life,” she snaps back.

I can tell I’m making her mad.

A wicked smile escapes my lips.

My blood is sprinkled all over her hands and arms, her silk, light blue clothing is heavily bloodstained.

Her pure innocence is tainted with my depravity and fuck do I like it.

She is staring at me, still standing right in front of me, obviously unsure what to do. She clears her throat and then blurts out: “Please go, you are in danger. If my brother finds you here, you will be a dead man.”

This would be the other way round, sweetheart. Never mess with an insurgent.

And if this is a threat, well sweetheart, it’s not working.

She bites her lip.

Those sensual lips.

Made for me to occupy.

A temptation I can no longer resist.

I grab her wrist roughly and pull her into my embrace.

She is very much taken by surprise as I wrap my arm around her waist and lay her on my lap, holding her body in a firm grip.

She wriggles out of panic, trying to fight me.

But her slight frame is easy to hold in place with only one arm.

I fix her dark beautiful eyes with my gaze, move towards her and press my lips onto hers.

She is fidgeting harder, trying to loosen my grip.

I cup her face with my hand, forcing her to look at me.

“It’s okay, baby, stop fighting,” I whisper.

She stops moving, staring at me in fear when I part her legs in a rough move. Kiss me, baby, come on, open your lips for me.

I slide my hand up and down her tighs.

She tries to fight me off again.

Silly girl.

She only arouses me further.

I pull up her tunic and rip her panties off.

There it is. Her fucking hot pussy.

I run my hands over her naked legs.

She holds still for a second, her breathing increases, she parts her lips. I push my tongue in quickly, kissing her roughly.

Fuck, she tastes good.

Her body cringes when I slide my hand up to her core.

She tries to pull my arm off her, desperately trying to shake me off.

I bury my tongue further into her mouth. She wants to scream, but there is no way I’ll let her. As I work on her clit, a moan escapes her mouth straight into mine.

“Hold still, I’m not finished,” I hiss, as she is fighting against my fingers. “Or I’ll smack that little ass of yours and I promise you won’t like it.” Her eyes fill with tears, her body is shivering.

I hold her tighter against my chest and keep working her dripping pussy with my fingers. She moans quietly into my mouth as I touch her harder and faster.

There it is. Her virginity.

For me to take.


But for this I’ll wait.

She has stopped fighting. Her wet pussy is pulsating, wrapped around my finger. I press my stone hard cock against her ass to show her who is in control. Her core locks up. She is panting and almost there now.

“Come for me, my baby,” I whisper, “now!”

My words are making her tremble.

To my touch.

To my control.

She is trying to fight it.

Trying to resist my lead.

I hold her firmer and tighter, working her faster and harder until she can no longer resist.

Her body is shaking.

Good girl.

She is falling apart in my arms.

To my demand.

Leaning against me, shuddering, immobile, submissive, taken.

“You are such a good girl,” I praise her, caressing her cheeks.

Her beautiful, shiny eyes are glimmering while looking up at me. Confused.

Licking her swollen lips.

Fuck, she is hot.

“Listen baby, I am the only one you will ever submit to. From now on you’ll crave for me, need me and break for me whenever I wish.”

She nods as I lock her gaze, showing me she has understood.

“Good girl, Leyla,” I praise her again as I pull her dress down, slide her off me, and put her on her feet.

“And now, my baby, be good and clean up the blood, and don’t let anyone know about my visit. I will be back soon.”

I bend down and kiss her forehead.

“Here is the payment for the oils and some more for treating my injury.” I hand her a small cotton bag with a lot of money.

She reacts promptly and hugs me tight.

Shows me, she trusts me.

Her heart is so damn good. I have difficulties handling her innocence and purity. Her warmth touches my evil fucked up heart, and gives me a feeling of peace which I have not felt for a long time. I pull the opium scent out of my pocket, drop the oil on my fingers, and put it over her cheeks and chin.

She is used to my scent by now, slightly addicted to it already, I guess. She will need more of my dark fragrance, more of me to feel alive, that I know for granted.

I run my fingers through her curls, then I turn around, step out the door and push it close behind me. The mist of the night surrounds me as I head back to my men to control them, punish them, and kill them as I please.


My knees feel weak when I lock the door behind him. My heart races in my chest and seems to fall into pieces, not knowing when I will see him again.

I’m a mess of emotions, unable to think clearly.

His scent all over my face drips into my soul and has captivated my heart.

I panic when my gaze falls on the bloodstains on the floor, all over my hands and on my dress. I need to clean up quickly. If my brother discovers the traces of blood, I will be in serious trouble. I try to calm myself down by taking a deep breath.

Then I rush for a bucket of water and start wiping the blood off the floor hastily. My hands are shaky as I rub the wet cloth over the ground, trying to remove the sticky red fluid. I’m so stressed by the thought that Ahasveros could step in at any second.

After ten minutes, I’m done, feeling relieved. No one has discovered me in the mess of blood. I throw the water out on the grass, behind the back door, then I rush upstairs to take a bath. I heat the water in the boiler quickly, pour it into the bathtub together with lavender and lemon oils. As I light the candles and breathe in the scent of the oils, I feel my nerves calm. When I slide my dress off, I feel strongly captivated by the villain.

Remembering every detail of his significant face, the scars, his cold, dark eyes, his rough skin and the forcefulness of his tongue.

He has messed with my heart like no one ever has.

He has touched me, where no man ever has.




I realize I’m missing him badly.

Did I fall in love with the villain?

Will I ever be able to stop thinking of him?

My body freezes when I hear footsteps.

Ahasveros. I quickly hide the dress together with the money under the bathtub and slide into the water. I soak my arms and hands and feel relieved when the blood washes off quickly. I hear a knock on the door.

“Can I come in?”, my brother asks.

“No, I’m busy taking a bath,” I answer.

He pushes the door open.

“Are you ever going to respect my privacy, brother?” I hiss angrily.

“Leyla, little sis, you know I’ve never been too bothered with seeing you in the bathtub, I actually like it.

And I will miss you for sure,” he says, looking at me with a hint of concern. “I want you to be happy, my little sister. I care for you more than you can imagine.” His face glimmers in the candlelight and I know he is honest.

He has always cared for me and I love him.

My bond with him grew even more since I decided to stay with him in Jerusalem when my parents, my three older sisters and my second brother had decided to go back to Persia for good. But Ahasveros’ current attempt to choose a man for me, drives me crazy.

The pressure on him to do so is enormous, especially from my father and the people around us. This insanity is very much a cultural thing.

Persian girls should marry at the age of nineteen, regardless of whether they want to. Love is not an issue at all.

Our society also expects the father, or with his consent, the oldest brother of the girl, to find her the right husband.

But I have seen too many unhappy married girls my age, oppressed and abused for the rest of their lives, an everyday nightmare I am not willing to join.

I am sure my good-looking brother is doing the best he can to find a good match for me, but I am not interested at all in the wealth of a rich man. Nor do I need someone, I never wanted, to take care of me. But there is no way out, neither for my brother, nor for me, except my death, when it comes to my secret plan to escape this horror.

Ahasveros seems in a good mood, excited to see me married soon, I guess. “I have news for you, Leyla. Your husband will be here in three days’ time, earlier than I thought, and you will finally get to know him.”

He pauses and stares at the stone floor, kneels down and reaches underneath the bath tap. He pulls out my blood-stained blue tunic and the little bag with the coins, I just hid from him. My face pales as he looks at me dismayed.

“Leyla. What. Is. This?”

He asks in a serious tone, holding the dress and the bag with the coins right in front of my face. My heart starts to race. I better not mess with him now.

I stay silent for a second, trying to find the right words.

“Don’t you try to hide anything from me, Leyla, I will find out the truth for sure.” He warns me. “Have you sold oils without my permission, today?”

I swallow hard as I stare at his angry face.

“Who gave you this money and why is this dress such a mess?”

I take a deep breath as I’m taken by the villain’s opium scent.

My fear of Ahasveros disappears within the next moment and turns into frustration.

Why do I have to justify myself constantly? I start getting mad at Ahasveros, feeling treated like a pet, a captured animal which has to please everyone at all costs.

“I will not answer your stupid question, brother, I have had enough of this shit.” I blurt out. “Find me a shitty husband and force me into marriage against my will. I hate you for that!” I throw some water right at his face, so that his muscular chest is soaked and the flooring wet. Obviously taken by surprise he looks irritated.

“Stop this, Leyla. I know that you are unhappy with the current situation, but there is no way out. The doors of this house will be locked from now on, you will not be able to leave or to receive customers at all anymore. For your own protection. I am sorry, Leyla, that we have to go through this right now, but your disobedience forces me to do so.”

He is highly pissed off, turns around and leaves me alone.

Finally. You will not force me into marriage, brother. I’d rather die happily WITHOUT YOUR PERMISSION than to have a miserable life at the side of a man I can never love.

If anyone, it is the villain I want to belong to.

Have I fallen for him?

His touch.

His voice.

His scent.

My pain.

His pleasure.

My need.

His desire.

My villain?

I throw myself into the bedding, filled with the horror of wanting to die.

The thought of death is bitter-sweet. Its grip tightens my throat and threatens to suffocate me. Tears run down my face, as I feel terribly lonely, overwhelmed by pain and sorrow, drifting off into restless sleep.

When I wake up early, it is still dark outside. Numbed by the desire to die, I climb out of bed.

My body feels cold and lifeless, my eyes are swollen from crying.

My heart and my soul feel frozen, drowned in deep despair.

My mind is set on the disastrous attempt to leave the house quickly and find my way into the Rocky Mountains of Judah. Its high cliffs will welcome me into a quick death. I shiver as I think of this dark mission, fulfilled soon.

Creepy fear crawls up my spine again, I start sweating.

Get your act together, Leyla and leave the house quickly.

I slide into my white dress, cover my shoulders with the silk robe and rush downstairs, as I slip into my sandals. The shop is dark inside, my gaze rushes over my beloved oils. I take a bottle of rose oil from the shelf and drip it over my arms and legs.

I’ll feel better dying with my favorite scent, combined with the villain’s scent, all over my cheeks and chin. There is nothing else I’ll take with me.

Time to die, Leyla.

Hastily I grab a glass of water and pour it down quickly. The back and front doors are locked, just as my brother has threatened.

I take a deep breath and open the front window. I pull the table straight underneath, climb on it and pull myself up to the window frame. The darkness outside works for my protection. The street is empty, most people are still asleep.

I gaze down at the road and jump onto the sandy ground.

I look around in panic and rush through the tiny street. There are beautiful flowers everywhere in pots, wild jasmine climbs up on some buildings. I sigh at the thought of how much I loved the romantic flair of the street I am living in.

The mist of darkness surrounds me as I run as quick as I can. I am scared of the Roman soldiers, lingering around in every single corner.

I am out of breath, tears run down my face, as I pass by my best friend’s house, no time to say goodbye. I feel overwhelmed by my emotions and feelings I can not control. When I arrive at the marketplace, it is full of fighting people.

The next second I’m trapped amongst a crowd of angry men.

I panic as I realize that I’m caught in the middle of a riot.

Immediately I regret my stupid decision of running away.

I consider returning and submitting to my brother.

To his wedding plans.

My life is ruined.

My dreams are destroyed.

I start crying.

The riot gets more violent as I’m lost in pain and despair.

Tears roll down my face.

Someone gets hit beside me, screaming in pain.

I shudder. There is violence all around me.

Rocks get thrown.

A man gets hit on the head and falls backwards and smashes to the ground. His dying body gets run over by insurgents who don’t care.

I stare at him in shock when a rock hits my leg hard.

Stinging, hammering pain is flowing through my entire body within the next second, my knees feel weak as my legs give in.

As I have no control over my feet anymore, I’m collapsing on the dusty road. Warm fluid is pouring out of my leg like a river, I’m soaked with my own blood instantly. My right leg is exploding, the pain is overwhelming.

As I am lying on my stomach I try to lift myself off the ground, but I have no strength at all. I start feeling dizzy and sink back onto the road.

My heart is racing in fear and my chest seems to explode when my leg is flooded with the deepest pain I have ever experienced.

I try to scream, but my tongue is dry and so is my throat.

Men around me are in a rage, throwing stones and fighting above my head with no end in sight. I feel weaker quickly as I realize I am seriously wounded and in need of urgent help. Trying to hold my head up is a task I can no longer handle. My face slides onto the sandy ground slowly.

The road feels nice and warm, my eyelids get heavy.

All I want is sleep.

I close my eyes when I feel someone rolling me onto my back roughly.

I cringe in pain, my body stiffens.

My right leg feels numb. I can hardly hold my eyes open, nor do I see clearly. I hear a masculine voice, which seems far away.

“Fuck. Baby.”

The deep voice is familiar.

My leg gets wrapped into a fabric.

I want to scream in pain, but no sound is leaving my throat, my mouth is too dry. I feel hot.

I whimper as I am picked up.

An unbearable amount of pain is hitting me hard.

The stranger’s movements are rushed.

I feel so weak, my legs are trembling, waves of heat are running through my body. He hurries along at a rapid pace.

“Breathe, baby,” he urges.

I close my eyes.

Let me sleep, stranger.

My body starts to shiver in shock, my teeth are chattering.

He presses my head against his steel chest when a strong scent of opium is flooding my lungs. I feel uncontrollable dizzy when darkness hits me as I fall unconscious.


“Wake up, baby!” I hear a deep voice urging me to open my eyes. My cheeks get spanked hard. My body feels numb, my tongue and throat feel so very dry.

I squint slightly and realize someone hovering over me, a strong man with black long hair and a naked steel chest.

“Come on, come on, baby, look at me,” he demands harshly.

Stop hitting me. Leave me alone, stranger, I feel so tired.

“Focus on my face, baby, come on, come on, open your eyes, get the fuck focused!” He is yelling at me, slapping my face and shaking my arms roughly.

My eyes widen as I stare at him in shock.

His dark eyes are studying my face intently while he continues to rub my arms.

I am lying on unfamiliar bedding in a darkened room.

My body feels tense and I start to panic.

I feel sudden pain suffusing through every part of my body. A horrible aching is ripping me apart, much more than I can handle. I notice a damp cold cloth on my forehead and start to shiver. I am freezing. The man removes the cloth quickly and wraps me in wool blankets. He rubs my whole body a little more gently than before.

My eyelids feel so heavy. As I drift off, my cheeks get spanked again.

“Stay awake, baby, open your eyes!” The man shouts again.

I glance at him, when the pain hits me hard, my leg is hammering in an ache which is overwhelming. Tears start to roll down my face.

I start to whimper in despair as I fight to hold my eyes open.

“Good girl,” I hear him say softly.

When I feel his arm behind my back, my body is arching. He pulls me up.

My head is in pain, I’m struggling as I have no strength to sit.

He pulls me into his arms and supports my back from behind.

My leg is burning and hammering without a pause.

My body is shivering, I am sweating. I feel so sick.

“Open your mouth, baby,” he demands. I don’t react. I feel so weak.

“Open. Your. Mouth. Now.” His voice is firm.

Out of fear, I part my mouth as he wishes.

Please, don’t hit me again, stranger.

He presses a cold cup against my lips.

“Now. Drink,” he urges.

A cold fluid fills my mouth, it tastes like water with a sweet bitter taste added to it. My throat feels refreshed as I swallow. I need more water. Urgently. I feel so incredibly thirsty. When I start to drink hastily, he removes the cup from my lips.

“Slow down, baby.”

I feel confused, still not able to speak. He parts my lips with a spoon.

“Now. Swallow, baby, but at my speed”.

The man is complicated.

Let me drink, please.

His steel body is supporting my back, he feels warm and secure.

I swallow sip by sip from the spoon, as he is feeding me.

The unbearable pain seems to ease up. I feel so tired.

“Now. Sleep, baby girl.” His voice drifts off slowly.

Fine. Finally, I am allowed to sleep.

He helps me to slide into the pillow, rubbing my body gently.

I drift off to sleep to his demand.


When I open my eyes, the room is dark. My head is hurting, my body feels tense. My leg is hammering in sharp pain.

I stare at a stone ceiling and as I turn my head, I see a burning black candle in an ornate candle holder. Where am I?

I panic as I look around. The room is not mine, neither is this bed. It is so very dark that I can hardly see anything. I discover a wooden door at the end of the room.

The exit. I need to escape. When I try to sit up, the door opens all of a sudden. I freeze in the movement. A naked muscular man walks towards me.

I stare at his steel chest.

As he comes closer, I recognize his face.

His scent.

Intoxicating. Consuming. He looks eerie, his dark, cold eyes resting on me.

The villain.

My villain.

He has saved me.

“Come on, baby, sit up,” he demands.

He pulls me up and supports me with pillows.

My leg hurts horribly, I have difficulties staying calm.

The man is lighting some more candles which are fixed in massive holders on the wall. His rough looking face shimmers mysteriously in the candlelight as he takes a seat beside me. He reaches out to the floor and picks up a cup and a spoon.

“Now, drink, my darling,” he orders, creepy and fascinating at the same time. He parts my lips with the spoon.

When a thick bitter tasting liquid hits my tongue, I pull back.

He immediately grabs my head from behind and holds me in place.

“Now. Swallow.” He orders.

There is no room for disobedience, his gaze is hard, merciless, evil.

I am positive the man would spank me again.

As I try to swallow the gruesome liquid, I feel like throwing up.

He notices my struggle and pushes another spoon in my mouth. This time it is water, which helps me to get the horrible liquid down my throat.

I sigh as he puts the cup and the spoon on the floor beside him.

The next second he leans over me, his naked steal chest dangerously close to mine, his golden earrings glimmer in the candlelight, his dark eyes flash as he asks:

“NOW. SPEAK. TO. ME. Sweetheart. Do you recognize me? Who. Am. I?” A shiver rushes down my spine as he stares straight into my soul.

“You are my LOVER,” I whisper, hoping he is pleased.

“That’s right, kitten,” he replies,

“And now tell me, “WHAT. IS. MY. NAME?”

“I don’t know your name,” I whisper.

“Refer to me as Master,” he orders, his gaze penetrating.

My heart is racing, as I realize I need him more than anything else in this world. I am craving for the man, craving for him to touch me.

But my body is too weak, the pain is exhausting.

I sigh as he pulls back.

“You need to eat, my darling.” As he walks out of the room, I stare at his back. He wears no clothes, just a cloth wrapped around his waist, just like Ahasveros. As I think of my brother, my body tenses.

I am urged to get married! I panic at the thought, when the villain enters the room again. He comes closer and studies my face.

“What is going on, sweetheart? Why are you scared?”

He takes the seat beside the bed, holding a bowl of soup.

I’m too weak to talk. He urges me no further.

“Now eat my darling.” He feeds me spoon by spoon.

I have difficulties swallowing. Lentils. Not my favorite.

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