Gift_Candy_2415

Warning: Matured content
Aaliyah never thought her life would end up this way. Framed for the death of her brother’s mate, her brother punishes her for justice of his mate. But just then, the Lycan King, Tristan appears, claiming her as his mate.
At first it feels like he was saving her, but it quickly turns into something far from that. Aaliyah tries to convince herself that she has escaped the nightmare of her pack and brother. But the Lycan King, Tristan didn’t save her out of love. Bound by an old Lycan tradition debt that must be paid every decade, Tristan has his own reasons for claiming her and it has nothing to do with the mating bond that they shared. A debt that would cost her freedom, and perhaps even her life.
As debts demands to be paid and enemies claws in, Tristan must face an impossible choice: honour his responsibility and sacrifice Aaliyah, or go against the tradition and risk everything to protect the woman he was never meant to love.

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Volume 2:

Four years have passed in Vlẽkhut, and war is still raging. The conflict between hybrids and Lycans grows worse, while the battle for the throne turns into a struggle for power as powerful Lycan emerges, fighting for the crown. Amidst the war, Aaliyah, still on the run from Vladimir after her husband's death, rises with power. She is now determined to claim the throne that rightfully belongs to her husband. She will take revenge on all those who destroyed her family and find a way to bring her husband back from the dead.

Claimed by the Lycan King

The cool wind blew across the cemetery grounds as we walked to the center. The night was quiet, with just me and two other witches at the cemetery. This was the cemetery where witches who died are buried. The Lycans or any other creatures are not allowed to be buried here.

One of my witches stepped forward, arranging the candles on the ground in a small circle. The other scattered ashes around it—these were the ashes of my mother.

Once everything was set, they stepped closer to me, holding my hands, and we began chanting.

"Es ma tos. Dea audis nos," I chanted, and the witches beside me spoke in unison. The air around us shifted as whispers hushed in my ears. Whispers of the ancestor witches.

The candles burned brightly. The ashes of my mother began to glow faintly yellow as we continued chanting.

I felt my pulse quicken, my heart pounding against my ribcage as I held the witches' hands tightly.

Chapter 72