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Under the Winter Spell: A Forced Proximity, Estranged to Lovers, Class Difference Erotica Romance

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Karenina Lam

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“John Murphy alifika Moscow tarehe 1/11/1992 saa 11 alfajiri akitokea Cairo, Misri. Wakati huo Moscow kulikuwa na baridi sana. Teksi yake ilipofika Teatralny Proezd, upande wa kusini wa Hoteli ya Metropol – karibu na mojawapo ya minara ya mwanzo ya Kitay-gorod, kitovu kikuu cha biashara cha Moscow ya kale – kwa matatizo ya injini; magaidi wanne, waliokuwa wakimfuatilia kwa gari aina ya Bentley Continental S nyeusi – iliyokuwa na namba za kitemi za B 001 BB 77 RUS mali ya Kiongozi wa CS-Moscow Dmitri Olegushka – toka Uwanja wa Ndege wa Sheremetyevo II wa kaskazini-magharibi mwa jiji la Moscow, waliendelea mbele na kusimama mkabala na Jumba la Maonyesho ya Tamthilia la Bolshoy; kisha wawili kati yao wakashuka na kuingia ndani ya kioski, wawili wakibaki ndani ya gari kuhakikisha John Murphy hawapotei. Magaidi hao wa CS-Moscow, Tawi la Kolonia Santita la Urusi na nchi zote za Ulaya ya Mashariki na baadhi ya nchi za Ulaya ya Kusini, walijua Murphy alishawahisi.”

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“For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the Master of Mankind by the will of the gods and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium, for whom a thousand souls die every day, for whom blood is drunk and flesh eaten. Human blood and human flesh – the stuff of which the Imperium is made. To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruellest and most bloody regime imaginable. This is the tale of those times. Forget the power of technology, science and common humanity. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for there is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter and the laughter of thirsting gods.”

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“You’ll scream just as he did,’ Xarl said with a smile. The Champion showed no reaction. He didn’t even move. ‘I knew that warrior,’ he said with solemn care. ‘He was Caleus, born of Newfound, and I know he died as he lived: with courage, honour, and knowing no fear.’ Xarl swept his chainsword across the scene, gesturing at the prone forms of First Claw. ‘I know all of these warriors. They are First Claw, and I know they’ll die as they lived: trying to run away.”

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“The war is over, Diocletian. Win or lose, Horus has damned us all. Mankind will share in his ignorance until the last man or woman draws the species’ last breath. The warp will forever be a cancer in the heart of all humans. The Imperium may last a hundred years, or a thousand, or ten thousand. But it will fall, Diocletian. It will fall. The shining path is lost to us. Now we rage against the dying of the light.”

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“The Hall of Tra was cold and lightless. His wolf-eye caught the ghost radiation of barely smouldering firepits. In terms of heat and light, the Wolves were making no allowances for human tolerances of comfort. They had given him a pelt and an eye to see through the dark with. What more could he want? He realised he wasn’t alone. The company was all around him. Their body heat was barely detectable, dimmer than the dull firepits. The Hall was a massive natural cavern, ragged and irregular, and the Astartes were ranged around it, huddled and coiled in their furs, as immobile as a sibling pack of predators, gone to ground overnight, dormant and pressed close for warmth. Faces cowled by animal skin hoods were watching his approach. There were occasional grumbles and murmurs, like animals growling in their sleep or tussling over bones. As his eye resolved the scene better, the Upplander saw some evidence of movement. He saw hands casually raise silver bowls and dishes so that men could sip black liquid from them. He saw hunched shapes engaged in the counter game, hneftafl, that the Upplander had seen Skarsi playing.”

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“Truth is, Frauka, none of us know you very well at all. We can't read you.' 'Story of my life. You have no idea whatsoever how hard it is to be an untouchable. Everyone feels the absence, and it makes them uncomfortable. You get treated like shit. Working for Ravenor's the only decent job I've ever had, the only time I've felt worth anything. I guess that's over now, isn't it? Get off my back. I've covered yours long enough, and I deserve more respect, even if I make you uncomfortable.”

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