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The Guardian. A man rumored to be more vicious and deadly than any creature crafted by the gods.
“If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. If I tell you to hop on one foot and pat your hair, then you. Fucking. Hop. Do we have an understanding?”
LOVE A MAN WHO ORDERS ME AROUND
“Your former fiancé must not have a big sword.” The Guardian’s eyes flashed emerald green, the innuendo dripping from his tone.
I love him
“Thanks,” I deadpanned. “And I was certain I wouldn’t earn any compliments today.” “Praise is for the bedroom, Cross. Not the training ring.”
You can take me to the bedroom 🫠
The Guardian stood in the center of my room, his legs planted wide, arms crossed over his chest. A breeze drifted in from the open window. And he was livid. “Hello, my queen.” Well, fuck.
IM GONNA DIEEEEEEE
