DROGO
One thing about being a cursed rogue is our conscience being tarnished. Our soul darkens as the days pass by.
All I see is the moment she points her finger, telling the palace guard the secret I had trusted her with.
I can't forget the look on her face.
I can't forget the sight of my family being taken away. The hatred in my father's eyes, the disappointment in my mother's, and the fear in my siblings'.
The more I think.
The more enraged I am.
The more pleasure I seek.
Innocent? Nah.
This is her. My doom or redemption, but I know which she really is.
Her walls trap me in, wet, warm and intoxicating, drawing my length as if I belong there. That familiar satisfaction runs through my veins, a kind that makes constant growl rumbling through my chest.
I take it all out at onc
