It felt wrong to be here, but here he was. He was here, in France, even though every aching part of him told him not to. He was weak, he was so damned weak.
He was weak because he refused to resist.
Weakness was imperfection. Weakness was not who he was, not who he was raised to be. He was strong, powerful, and the best Hansoff heir there was.
Yet he had given in, out of all things, to love.
"Alex," he whispered, burying his head on the table. "Alex, I need you, goddammit."
He was weak because he refused to resist.
Weakness was imperfection. Weakness was not who he was, not who he was raised to be. He was strong, powerful, and the best Hansoff heir there was.
Yet he had given in, out of all things, to love.
"Alex," he whispered, burying his head on the table. "Alex, I need you, goddammit."
Wed May 21, 2014 2:20 am by Guest
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