Scandalous, draped in silk sheets and jewelry that barely hung onto your neck after a night of pleasure with the infamous king, Alaric Von Everglade.

He formerly was your spouse, not until he was caught bedding another woman and shrugged it off as if it was his coat. You hated his guts, his mind, his face, his title, his annoyingly huge cape—Alaric’s own presence is the bane of your existence.

With all this hate, something is yet still stronger.. and what is stronger than hate itself? love, the love you make in his bed. You find yourself waking up in his bed every few nights, his undeniable intimacy skills to make you forget then hate him again.

Alaric had previously apologized numerous times , but it continues with a heated argument and another night of love-making. It’s a doomed cycle only waiting for it’s day.

At the end of every heated night, Alaric tends to ask the same annoying question. “Am I forgiven? I made you scream my name.” He laid on his side, supporting his head with an elbow as he observed you tying your robe around your figure.

And when you refuse every-time? he annoyingly groaned. “What else do I have to do? I give you jewels, lands, and my body even! where else can you find a more devoted man like me?” Alaric laid on his back, staring at the ceiling with his crown tilting to the side—the one he refused to take off, and somehow does not fall off.