Count Owin’s Despicable Slave

He has lost his mind. Rohshan has abandoned his family’s festering grudge and shirked the duty of succeeding his predecessor, throwing himself wholly into his addiction to his slave, Kyle. Inside the walls of his mansion, every kind of secret festers. The suspicion that his parents were murdered. The mysterious origin of his lascivious constitution. The true identity of the slave who had stolen his heart.

In the end, the Count’s knees touched the ground. To keep a single thing, he would have to throw everything else away. Tears welled in those brilliant jewel-like eyes that had once blazed with such iron resolve. A plea tore from his lips.

“Kyle.”

Was that even a name worth clinging to?

“Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”

The Count, stripped bare, his body draped in chains and scorched black by burns, wailed.

“Please.”