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

Licking the swollen tip, his jaw tensing while those obsidian orbs swirled with a combination of greed, hunger and potent desire. His smoky vanilla scent overwhelming my senses, a similar hunger surging through my veins.


Lazarus’s fingers crept along the back of my neck, sweeping my hair over my shoulder. I shouldn’t have mistaken his actions as care, fisting my hair and yanking until our eyes met. “Suck Ma Cherie.” He ordered, his gaze burning with fervour.


His grip loosens but I won’t make the same mistake of trusting him. Swirling my tongue along the tip, a glistening reddish pink that I desperately craved. I became an entirely different being during intimacy with Lazarus, a separate energy constructed of raw animalistic pleasure that was insatiable.


“Eyes on me.” He demanded with a strained voice.


Chapter 70 You're The King's FuckToy