What is the average that people enjoy to read or look at? Are incubus and succubus creatures that would be desirable? Guy on guy, girl on girl, polygamy? What about interracial or interspecies? I'm working on what others have said before, some Google searches, and I need more. I will take any suggestions, if you can?
Chapter 1:
The first light of dawn seeped softly through the window, casting a gentle glow over the cozy room. Alpha Marcus and I lay tangled in blankets, the only sound being the steady rhythm of our breathing. For a moment, the world outside felt like it had disappeared; just us, wrapped in this rare moment of peace and happiness. His strong arm was still around me, his usual commanding presence softened by tenderness I rarely saw. I smiled softly, feeling safe in his embrace, my heart full.
He shifted slightly, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face, and I caught his gaze. There was a flicker of tenderness there, yes, but also something else, something guarded, as if he was already preparing for a battle I couldn’t see coming.
“I have to leave now,” he said softly, his voice low but steady. “Important business. ” His words felt like a warning, a promise wrapped in a lie. I wanted to ask him more, to hold him, to make him stay, but I knew better. Marcus was a wolf of action, always rushing into the storm, never waiting for it to pass.
As he turned to leave, I watched the door close behind him, the silence swallowing the room again. The quiet felt deafening now, a stark reminder that the calm I clung to was only temporary.
I sat up slowly, the weight of his words still heavy in my mind. The room felt colder now, the absence of his presence like a shadow lingering in the corners. I pushed back the blankets and swung my legs over the side of the bed, instinctively reaching for my clothes. My fingers fumbled slightly, betraying the unease I couldn’t shake.
The mirror on the wall caught my reflection, eyes a little too bright, hands trembling just beneath the surface. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Today wasn’t just another day; it was the day Marcus had promised me.
I moved through my morning routine; I started by washing my body slowly, the sharp sting of the water awakening my senses and clearing the fog from my mind. After my shower I brushed my hair, using a worn wooden brush, smoothing out the tangles and trying to tame the restless thoughts that refused to settle. Then I dressed quickly but carefully, choosing practical clothes suited for a day filled with potential. Finally I left my room and walked to the small wooden table in the kitchen, where I prepared a simple breakfast; dry bread, a few dried berries, and a flask of water, quickly eating and drinking in silence. Every motion was deliberate, a way to center herself before stepping into the world outside.
As I finished my meager breakfast, I felt the shift in the air. The air outside was thick with anticipation, and I knew that preparations were already underway for Marcus’s departure. I had overheard whispers among the guards, hurried conversations in hushed tones about the claiming of the Luna, me, I dared to believe and the weight of that moment pressed heavily on my chest.
I moved through the town, my steps light but purposeful, already aware that I was part of the unfolding tapestry. Every glance, every word exchanged, carried the weight of unspoken promises and the unyielding march of tradition. Today, Marcus’s decision would be made clear to all, his dominance, and his claim. And somehow, deep within me, I sensed I was the one he had chosen. The thought sent a strange mixture of fear and a fierce, burning pride through my veins.
As I entered the grand hall where the ritual was to take place, I saw the signs, the ceremonial banners fluttering in the breeze, the gathered pack, their eyes fixed on Marcus as he stood tall and commanding, ready to perform what was expected of him. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and looked toward Marcus. His gaze met mine, fierce and unwavering. Today would mark the beginning of a new chapter, one written in the language of wolves, in the silent vows of the claiming. And I knew, without a doubt, that I was ready to meet it, whatever the cost.
Chapter 2:
As the ceremony preparations reached their crescendo, Marcus’s commanding presence drew all eyes toward him. His tall figure stood resolute, muscles tense beneath his dark cloak, eyes burning with a mixture of determination and something deeper, something unspoken. He scanned the gathered pack until his gaze fell on me, and a brief flicker of something softer crossed his face before he turned away.
Then, stepping forward with deliberate calm, Marcus raised a hand to quiet the murmurs of the crowd. His voice, low and steady, carried easily across the gathering. “There is something I need to discuss with Chrissie. Privately,” he announced, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The pack shifted uneasily, but no one dared question him. He rarely asked for privacy unless it was of utmost importance. I felt my pulse quicken at his words, an unspoken understanding passing between us. Marcus’s sharp eyes locked onto mine. “Chrissie, come with me,” he added, voice softer but still authoritative. Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode away, leaving me standing there, heart pounding, with the weight of anticipation pressing heavily on my chest.
As I hurried after him through the gathered pack, I felt a strange mixture of nerves and curiosity swirling inside me. I raced through the halls trying to keep up with his long strides. We reached a small empty room, secluded and off to the side, where the air seemed to hum with unspoken tension. Marcus turned to face me, his expression unreadable but intense.
He took a slow step closer, his voice lowering to a whisper that still carried the weight of command. “Chrissie, I need a vial of your healing blood. It’s for an urgent matter, something that could determine the future of our pack.” His gaze searched mine, as if he was gauging my trust, my willingness to help.
My heart skipped a beat. Healing blood wasn’t just a simple request; it was sacred and rare, reserved for the gravest of needs. I hesitated, feeling the familiar rush of vulnerability. “You’re asking me for my blood?” I managed, voice trembling slightly. “What’s it for?”
Marcus’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with uncharacteristic softness, yet still holding firm. “It’s for something personal. Something essential. I trust you, Chrissie, more than anyone. I need to know I can count on your strength, your blood, to help heal what cannot be seen. It’s a matter of life or death, and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t crucial.”
I looked at him, torn between the instinct to refuse and the knowledge that his need was genuine. In that moment, I realized this wasn’t just about the ritual or the claiming; it was something deeper, an act of trust, perhaps even of vulnerability, from him to me.
Slowly, I reached into my satchel, pulling out a small vial. The glass was cool and smooth in my hand. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, then carefully drew a few drops of my blood, watching as it shimmered as it fell. I handed the vial to him, feeling the weight of my choice settle inside me.
Marcus paused as he held the vial of my blood, his gaze lingering on the shimmering liquid inside. A heavy silence settled between us, the weight of unspoken words thickening the air. Then, his voice broke the quiet, low and steady but edged with a sense of urgency.
“Chrissie,” he said softly but insistently, “I need more than just a little. I require a greater amount, enough to ensure I have what I need for what’s coming. This isn’t just for healing; it’s for strength, for resilience. It’s vital.”
My heart thudded painfully in my chest. The request was startling, more blood meant revealing more of myself, risking vulnerability and trust on a deeper level. I hesitated, feeling the pang of uncertainty. “You’re asking me for more than I can give easily,” I whispered, voice trembling. “Are you sure? This could leave me weak—”
He stepped closer, eyes fierce yet gentle, a rare softness flickering in their depths. “I would never ask if it wasn’t of the utmost importance. Your blood is potent, Chrissie. It’s a gift, one I don’t take lightly. But I need you to trust me now, more than ever. I will do everything I can to protect you in return. I promise.”
I looked into his unwavering gaze, the weight of his words sinking deep into my bones. Despite the fear and hesitation, I understood; this wasn’t just about physical healing. It was about trust, sacrifice, and sharing.
I understand my place, taking the vial back, I bite into my wrist. I fill the vial and take out two more. After I fill all three, Marcus accepted it silently, his eyes locking onto mine once more. “Thank you, Chrissie. You don’t know how much this means to me, and to everything we’re fighting for.” With that, he turned away, disappearing into the shadows of the woods, leaving me slumped there with my heart pounding and a sense that I had just been taken advantage of.
Chapter 3:
The taste of iron still lingered deep in my throat, a phantom proof that I had selfishly drained my own veins to save him. The heavy oak doors of the Terracotta Village grand hall were thrown wide open, letting in the cool, crisp mountain breeze, but the air inside remained suffocating, thick with the scent of unwashed bodies, expensive perfumes, and palpable anticipation. Tonight was the Luna Ceremony. Tonight, Marcus was supposed to fulfill the promise he had desperately whispered against my lips beneath the silver light of the full moon. I stood near the very front of the wooden dais, the sapphire blue off-the-shoulder dress clinging to every curve of my body, its ruffled neckline gently brushing against my collarbones. The delicate trim of golden floral patterns along my chest and upper arms shimmered brightly under the hundreds of flickering candles suspended from the ancient vaulted ceiling. Around my neck, the tight black choker sat like a brand, embellished with small yellow moons and suns—a quiet nod to my innate, inexplicable connection to the celestial bodies despite being entirely wolf-less.
I caught my reflection in the polished silver of a ceremonial shield hung on the stone wall beside me. My warm, deep-toned skin was flushed with anticipation and the heat of the crowded room. My short, sleek black hair, styled in a precise chin-length bob with a slight middle part, framed my face perfectly. But it was my eyes that always drew the most attention, the feature that set me apart from every other female in the village—large, expressive, and a vivid, startling red, framed by stark white eyelashes that gave me a sharp, almost otherworldly appearance. Marcus used to trace those white eyelashes in the dark and tell me I was his rare, unparalleled treasure. I believed him. I bled for him. When a brutal rogue attack nearly ripped his throat out last winter, I used my mother’s ancient healing arts, pouring my own life essence into his fatal wounds until I collapsed, hovering near death myself for weeks. He held my hands, kissing the fresh scars on my palms, and promised me marriage. He promised me a throne beside his, vowing that my pure heart and unwavering strength made me the only Luna he would ever need.
But as Marcus stepped onto the raised wooden dais tonight, his icy blue eyes stubbornly refused to meet mine. He looked magnificent, standing tall and broad-shouldered at six-foot-four, his powerful, muscular physique stretching the fine fabric of his dark ceremonial tunic. His olive-toned skin glowed in the candlelight, and the faint scar on his strong jawline, the very scar I had painstakingly stitched closed while he bled in my lap, rippled violently as he clenched his teeth. The natural shine of his short, dark brown hair caught the light, but the commanding authority he usually exuded seemed fractured, unusually defensive, and unnerved. He cleared his throat, the deep sound echoing through the suddenly silent, expectant hall.
"My pack," Marcus began, his deep voice resonating off the ancient, blood-soaked stone walls. "We gather tonight beneath the shadow of the great mountain to honor our sacred traditions. A pack is only as strong as its Alpha, but an Alpha is only as enduring as his Luna. The times are changing, and to maintain our standing, we need a Luna who represents grace, purity, and the delicate beauty of our people. Someone who needs our protection, who inspires our mighty warriors to fight for her innocence."
My heart plummeted into my stomach, instantly transforming into a cold, heavy stone. *Protection? Delicate beauty?* I was a healer. I was the one who fought beside him, who stood in the blood-soaked mud and held his terrified pack together when he was incapacitated. But before I could even process the violent warning bells ringing incessantly in my mind, a petite, slender figure stepped out from the heavy velvet shadows behind the Alpha's throne. Seraphina.
She moved with a quiet, almost ethereal elegance, her five-foot-four lithe frame swaying gently as if the mere act of walking across the dais was a monumental, exhausting effort. Her flowing platinum-blonde hair cascaded in soft, perfect waves down her back, catching the ambient light and giving her a luminous, angelic glow that made the crowd sigh in adoration. She wore a soft, flowing chiffon gown in a muted pastel pink, the delicate lace emphasizing her apparent fragility. A simple, teardrop moonstone necklace rested against her pale collarbone. She looked like a stiff breeze would break her in half. But as she cast her eyes downward, brilliantly playing the shy, overwhelmed maiden, I saw the subtle, calculating twitch of her lips. The cunning, victorious gleam in her eyes before she veiled it behind long, fluttering lashes. She was faking it. I had always suspected it, but seeing her now, the truth was blinding. She had intentionally mimicked this delicate, fragile demeanor to lure Marcus into a false sense of security, appealing directly to his fragile male ego that demanded he be the sole savior in the relationship.
"I present to you," Marcus declared loudly, extending a large, trembling hand to wrap around Seraphina’s slender waist, "Seraphina. Your new Luna."
Chapter 4:
The collective gasp of the pack was deafening. Excited whispers erupted like wildfire across the grand hall. Eyes darted rapidly toward me, wide with a toxic mixture of pity, confusion, and outright mockery. I stood entirely frozen, my vivid red eyes locked onto Marcus with laser precision. He finally looked at me, his icy blue gaze filled with a mixture of pride and defiance. I had bled for my Alpha, sacrificing literal pieces of my own soul and body, only to be effortlessly discarded for this scheming woman’s trembling, pathetic lies.
I took a slow step forward, the sheer humiliation burning through my veins like boiling acid. The heat within me, a strange, ancient fire I had secretly harbored since childhood, inherited from a father I never knew, flared violently in the center of my chest. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear the grand hall down to its foundations and watch them burn. Seraphina instantly buried her face against Marcus’s broad chest, her narrow shoulders shaking as if she were terrified of the crowd, but her hand rested perfectly on his bicep, her fingers digging in with a deeply possessive, triumphant grip that only I could truly read.
"Marcus," I breathed out, the single word carrying perfectly over the murmurs of the crowd. "After everything I gave you? You promised me."
"Stand down, Chrissie," Marcus warned, his voice instantly hardening, slipping into the intimidating, overbearing Alpha tone that commanded the entire room to heel. "You are a valued member of Terracotta Village. But you are wolf-less. Our people need a traditional Luna. Seraphina is noble. She is pure. Accept your place. I am your Alpha and you will not question me."
"Don't you love me?" I asked, it coming out quieter than I meant to.
"Love?" Marcus let out a short, harsh bark of a laugh that cut through the tension like a blade. He stepped closer, his shadow looming over me, cold and immovable. "You were a soldier, Chrissie. A tool. You were the shield I used to climb to this throne, and I thank you for your service, but don't mistake gratitude for affection."
He reached out, not to touch me with tenderness, but to grip my chin, forcing my burning red eyes to meet his icy gaze. "I never loved you," he murmured, his voice dropping to a cruel, intimate level that only I could hear. "How could I? You’re a freak of nature. A wolf-less girl with eyes like a demon and a temper that scares the very men you lead. Seraphina is light. She is peace. You... you are just a reminder of the blood I had to spill to get here."
He let go of my face with a dismissive flick of his wrist, as if he were shaking off dirt. The grand hall stayed silent, but the heat in my chest was no longer a flicker, it was a sun, expanding, demanding to be released.
I didn't even blink. The hum of the crowd, the pitying sighs, Seraphina’s delicate sniveling, all of it faded into a dull, distant static. I didn't look at Marcus. Instead, I turned my head slowly, my vivid red gaze sweeping across the grand hall. I looked at the elders who had let me bleed for their borders. I looked at the warriors who had called me sister while I sewed their wounds shut. I looked at every single soul who was now looking at the floor, too cowardly to meet the eyes of the woman who had bought their safety with pieces of her own soul.
"Look at me," I said. It wasn't a shout. It was a low, vibrational pull that forced every head in the hall to snap upward. "I gave my blood to build these walls, does that mean nothing?" the words carrying through the silence like a death knell.
Chapter 5:
Before I could unleash the furious, blistering words bubbling in my throat, the atmosphere in the grand hall violently shifted. The flickering candles suspended above us extinguished in a single instant, plunging the massive room into shadows illuminated only by the roaring flames of the massive stone hearth. The temperature plummeted below freezing. A suffocating, terrifying pressure slammed into the room, a physical weight that drove dozens of wolves straight to their knees, gasping and clawing at their throats for air. The heavy oak doors, which had been gently open to the breeze, were suddenly blown clean off their iron hinges with a deafening crack, the massive wood splintering out into the dark night.
Through the swirling dust and howling mountain wind stepped a nightmare made glorious flesh.
Callum. The Lycan King.
He stood a colossal six-foot-nine, slowly rising from his chair. His chiseled features were carved from unforgiving stone, highlighting sharp, high cheekbones, a strong, square jaw, and a slightly furrowed brow that radiated a terrifying, commanding presence that made my bones ache. His tanned skin was taut over a violently muscular, battle-hardened frame, his dark leather tunic open at the collar to reveal a chest scarred from centuries of war. His short, black hair was completely tousled, as if he had just slaughtered an entire battalion on his casual stroll here. But it was his piercing, deep-set eyes—a striking, glowing shade of cold steel gray—that completely paralyzed the entire pack. His aura was an intoxicating, overwhelming blend of ozone, dark pine, and raw, absolute power.
"An Alpha who casts aside his strongest warrior for a shivering, useless ornament," Callum’s voice was a low, rumbling thunder that vibrated through the floorboards and settled directly in my pelvis. "How deeply, truly pathetic."
Marcus shoved Seraphina behind him, his teeth bared in an instinctual, yet entirely suicidal, challenge. "King Callum! This is a private pack matter, you have no jurisdiction here!"
"Nothing in my realm is private from me, little Alpha," Callum sneered, not even bothering to cast a glance in Marcus's direction. His steel gray gaze swept the trembling room and locked instantly, inexorably, onto me. The frigid air between us seemed to crackle and snap with high-voltage electricity. His heavy gaze stripped me completely bare. He didn't see a wolf-less outcast. He saw a queen wrapped in a disguise.
Callum began to walk toward me. Every single, deliberate step he took forced the surrounding pack members flat onto the floor, their heads bowed in total, agonizing submission to the Lycan King's crushing aura. Even Marcus was physically trembling, heavy sweat beading on his olive skin, entirely unable to step off the dais to stop him. Seraphina whimpered loudly, a genuinely fearful, pathetic sound this time, shrinking into a useless ball of pastel chiffon behind the throne.
I didn't kneel. I couldn't. My vivid red eyes stared defiantly up into his glowing steel gray ones. The white eyelashes framing my vision fluttered rapidly as he stopped mere inches from me. The sheer, radiating heat pouring off his massive body was completely overwhelming, an intoxicating cage that silently promised both absolute destruction and ultimate salvation.
"You bled for a coward," Callum murmured, his voice dropping to a dark, gravelly register meant only for my ears, sending a shiver straight down my spine. He reached out, his massive, heavily calloused hand brushing gently against the ruffled neckline of my sapphire dress. His rough touch sent a violent shockwave of pure electricity straight down to my core. "A terrible tragedy. But a highly fortunate one for me."
"I...," I whispered back, my voice trembling slightly, not from the terror gripping the rest of the room, but from the sudden, overwhelming pooling of intense heat between my thighs. My traitorous body was fiercely reacting to his dominant presence with a primal, desperate ache that completely defied logic.
"You belong to me," Callum corrected smoothly, his tone leaving absolutely zero room for debate. His massive hand slid around to the sensitive back of my neck, his long fingers tangling roughly in my sleek black bob, resting just above the black choker. With a sudden, forceful pull, he yanked me flush against his rock-hard body. I gasped sharply, my breasts crushing against the solid expanse of his chest, my hips aligning perfectly with the thick, incredibly hard ridge straining against his dark leather trousers. He was fully aroused, incredibly thick, and he wanted the entire room to know exactly what he was about to do.
Chapter 6:
Marcus let out a strangled, pathetic roar of protest from the dais, trying desperately to fight the crushing Lycan aura, but Callum merely flicked his wrist without looking, and an invisible, telekinetic force slammed the Alpha back against his wooden throne, pinning him there by his throat.
"Look at him," Callum commanded me, his hot, pine-scented breath fanning across my parted lips. "Look at the weak boy who threw you away. And then show him exactly who you truly belong to."
Before my stunned brain could even process the dark command, Callum’s mouth crashed down onto mine. It wasn't a gentle, probing kiss. It was a brutal, explicit, and total claiming. His firm lips forced mine apart, his thick tongue plunging past my teeth to taste me deeply, relentlessly mapping every inch of my mouth. The wild scent of him filled my lungs, drowning out the stench of the terrified pack cowering on the floor. I whimpered, a shameful, incredibly needy sound that vibrated loudly in my throat. My hands, which had been balled into tight fists, betrayed my logical mind and uncurled to grip the thick, bulging muscles of his arms, anchoring myself to him as my knees went weak.
He effortlessly scooped me up into his massive, powerful arms, cradling me tight against his broad chest as if I weighed nothing at all. My mind was violently spinning, my body completely drained and incredibly, acutely sensitive to his every movement. I looked up at his terrifyingly chiseled face. The legendary Lycan King had just publicly humiliated my betrayers, destroyed their ceremony, and explicitly claimed me before the entire world. His possessive obsession was a raging, unstoppable inferno, and as he effortlessly carried me out of the shattered oak doors and out into the freezing, dark mountain night, I realized I had traded Marcus's weak, pathetic promises for a far more dangerous, utterly intoxicating cage.
I weakly rested my exhausted head against his chest, listening to the slow, steady, powerful thud of his Lycan heart. Seraphina would undoubtedly scheme to use this violent abduction to her advantage, and Marcus’s deeply bruised ego would inevitably spark a bloody war. But as Callum’s massive arms tightened fiercely and protectively around my trembling frame, a tiny, glowing spark of something powerful finally ignited deep within my chest. I wouldn't just be his captive plaything. If I survived the Lycan King's intense obsession, I would become his absolute equal.
The heavy oak doors didn’t just close behind us; they shattered under the sheer pressure of Callum’s departing aura. The freezing mountain air hit my flushed skin, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the Lycan King’s body.
"Chrissie! Drop her, you monster!" Marcus’s voice ripped through the night, cracked with a desperate, wounded pride.
I heard the heavy thud of boots hitting the stone steps, Marcus was pursuing, driven by the singular madness of an Alpha who had been publicly emasculated. He wasn't coming for me out of love; he was coming for his property.
Callum didn't break his stride. He didn't even tense. He continued walking toward the tree line where a massive, matte-black stallion waited, its eyes glowing with a preternatural intelligence.
"The boy doesn't know when to stay down," Callum mused, his voice a low, vibrating rumble in his chest that made my inner fire lick at my ribs. He stopped abruptly, turning just enough for Marcus to see the predatory glint of his teeth in the moonlight. Marcus skidded to a halt ten feet away, his claws extended, his face contorted into a snarl.
"You can’t just take her. She is Terracotta blood! She is—"
"She is nothing to you," Callum interrupted, his voice dropping into a register that made the very ground tremble. He adjusted his grip on me, his large hand splayed over my thigh in a gesture so possessive it felt like a brand. "You called her a tool. A freak. You threw her to the dirt to make room for a lapdog." Callum stepped closer to Marcus, looming like a mountain of shadow. "I am not taking her, little Alpha. I am reclaiming what the stars were too generous to give you in the first place. If you take one more step, I won't just pin you to your throne. I will tear the heart from your chest and feed it to the crows while your 'pure' Luna watches."
The sheer lethality in Callum’s tone turned Marcus’s blood to ice. I saw the flicker of genuine, soul-deep terror in my former Alpha’s eyes. He looked at me, pleading for a second, but I didn't reach out. I leaned further into Callum’s heat, my red eyes glowing with a renewed intensity.
"You cannot take her," Marcus tried in vain, but he didn't dare move closer.
Chapter 7:
We were at a standoff, Callum staring Marcus down and Marcus not backing away.
"Fine, have it your way," Callum growled and in front of the cowardly man who had discarded me, Callum’s large hand trailed down the side of my sapphire dress. He bunched the heavy, expensive silk tightly in his massive fist, aggressively hiking it high up my thigh. The cool mountain air briefly hit my bare, deep-toned skin, but it was immediately replaced by the scorching, branding heat of his rough palm.
I gasped out, entirely unsure what I actually needed. For him to stop or for him to give me more?
"You're soaking wet for me, little flame," he growled right against my ear, his sharp teeth lightly grazing my sensitive earlobe. His large hand slid unapologetically higher, pushing past the lacy edge of my undergarments. His thick, calloused fingers effortlessly found the slick, heavily swollen folds between my thighs. I arched my back violently, a sharp, uncontainable cry tearing from my lips as he slid two long, thick digits deep inside my dripping, aching core.
The public exposure, the sheer, unimaginable audacity of the act, was completely paralyzing. Marcus' terrified eyes were forced to watch the untouchable King physically claim the rejected, wolf-less outcast. He pumped his thick fingers inside me with slow, deliberate, agonizingly deep strokes, his rough thumb pressing firmly and relentlessly against my most sensitive bundle of nerves. My legs completely gave out from the intense pleasure, but his powerful, unyielding arm wrapped tightly around my waist, holding me effortlessly suspended against his massive body.
"Look at her, Marcus!" Callum boomed, his voice echoing through the stunned, dead-silent grounds like a war horn, even as he continued to ruthlessly, rhythmically finger me. "You wanted a fragile, pathetic creature to stroke your delicate ego. You left a true queen starving in the dirt. Now watch her unravel completely for a real king."
I sobbed openly, burying my burning face deep into the crook of his muscular neck. The physical pleasure was completely blinding, a chaotic storm of absolute agony and pure ecstasy intertwined. Every single thrust of his thick fingers ignited the hidden, dormant magic deep within my blood. A terrifying, searing heat built in my lower belly, radiating rapidly outwards. I clamped my inner muscles down incredibly hard on his invading fingers, shamelessly chasing the friction, utterly ruined under his terrifying, absolute control.
"That’s it, clamp down on my hand, little flame," he praised darkly, his thumb increasing its wicked, circular pressure. "Shatter for me. Give me everything."
I broke. The climax ripped through me with the devastating force of a hurricane.
Hi ya'll! I'm excited to share my story, it's been a time-consuming project of mine, and I’d love for you to give it a read. Whether you enjoy adventure, romance, or just a good story, I hope you'll find something to enjoy.
You can read it here:
https://www.dreame.com/story/1259757568-the-dragon-s-lycan-king
Thanks so much for your time and support! Feel free to leave feedback or ask any questions. Happy reading! 😊
Remember this is an adult story.
Just a heads up, it's a slow build up. Nothing "exciting" happens until chapter 7. I am new to romance writing, I am still learning and would appreciate feedback.
It is on the dreame app or the moboreader app. https://web.cdreader.com/en/appshare.html?v=1&bookid=114625322&client_proid=1000&mt=4&corever=1&chl=en_core1_android_google&LangId=3