In the year 2333, humanity has fallen and ruled by werewolves. Bellatrix Sinclair, an 18-year-old weapons prodigy that despises werewolves for destroying her family has been secretly planning to join the human rebellion.
However, she is forced into the Mate Selection Process and matched with Lazarus De Loughrey, the ruthless Werewolf King obsessed with claiming her.
He shouldn't want her and she should hate him but they cannot resist each other. It's a twisted connection, entirely physical because all I am is his slave.
My heart should belong to my best friend Emmett, a human. Atleast the guilt of betrayal wouldn't be eating away at my insides.
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“Yes please.” She begs.
“Then fucking let me in.” I growled, this fury exploding with vengeance. I wanted to destroy her pussy.
It was maddening, it was sickening, it was barbaric.
But I never claimed to be saint.
“Here that baby, that’s the sound of your greedy pussy sucking on my cock. Give me more, drench me.”
“Lazarus.” She moans painfully, “Please let me come.”
I’m doused in gasoline and set alight, sweat coats my skin as I pound into her faster and harder. I’m definitely hurting her, “Wanna come?” I rasped, “Not until I say so.”
Pressing my lips onto hers, pushing my tongue into her mouth until I feel the sweetness of hers. The kiss is sloppy and filthy. She cries as I drive my cock into her, the intensity too much to handle, sweet tears sliding onto her cheeks.
“Fuck yes.” I smile sadistically, licking her tears. “Cry for me Ma Cherie.”
“Please, please let me come My King.” She pleads.
“Say it again.” Lightening shooting down my spine as she begged, “My King, please let me come. I’ll be good.”
I chuckled, “Try your luck to kill me Ma Cherie, I dare you.”

From Slave To Wolf Queen

I narrowed my eyes at him. “They are your people. Are you saying that you don’t trust them?”


He scoffed at my insolence. “In the essence of life, you are prey among predators.”


“My skills have proven different. I can be the predator just as much as you.” I smirked, my voice sweet and condescending.


Lazarus eyes sparkled poisonously, flooding my bloodstream with the toxic substance of his evil tendencies. “Ma Cherie,” his voice smooth like whiskey, “you have to be more vicious than this if you ever want to be a predator.”


Entranced by those pitch-black orbs, a dark tower looming over me with vile intent. Arching a challenging brow, “I can pull the trigger.” I say, “Your rules restrict me from acting on those impulses.”


His fingers sears through my cheek, catching a lock of my hair and twirling it around his finger. “Fear is more lethal than poison.” He stated. “The prospect of death doesn’t scare you, but your fear holds you back more than I do.”


Chapter 35 He Owns Me