Warrior’s have no heart…no sympathy…no regrets…no meaning to life…
There was one man who stood alone among the worn soldiers trotting forward. He alone stood fiercely and proudly. He was the vanity of her eyes…the agony of her heart…the being that made her aware of her feminine needs…wants…and desires. They all pooled into one at his gentle touch…his commanding voice…his overpowering presence.
A warrior that stood among the people, destined to rule and conquer. Astride on a black stallion, Darius Brant held his head high like a statue that needed to be idolize. A man with stubborn determination yet a lover’s seductive eyes to which she had fallen captive to. He was the anchor of her life, the source of her dreams.
She tipped her head down, her eyes lowered as he pulled up the banner that claimed victory. Claiming her. Returning to her and taking what belonged to him. His prize.
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