Isabelle, The Witch
Isabelle, The Witch Chapter 1 The dimly lit room was filled with anticipation as the door creaked open, revealing a silhouette against the backdrop of muted colors . The soft glow of candlelight cast shadows on the walls. A cool spring breeze slithered through the blue curtains, the faintest touch of air skimming her skin like the whisper of a lover’s breath, promising more yet holding back. The room didn’t just smell like jasmine anymore—it smelled like her. Like heat and skin and something feral. It was the kind of scent that ruined marriages and started religions. The chill of the polished floor sent a sharp shiver up her bare legs, a reminder of the frenzied warmth building within her. In the flickering candlelight, her nakedness is illuminated, a visual testament to her vulnerability and desire. Her presence was a magnetic force, an aura so potent that it seemed to bend the air around her, pulling every eye, every breath toward her as if the room itse...