A. Vitiosis

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

My muscles were sore, my body crying in agony as my brain struggled to comprehend reality past the sleepy fog. The scent of sweet oak, rich chocolate and vanilla tickled my nose, such a hypnotic combination that it became addictive. It originated from the warm jacket blanketing my skin.


A buzzing at my fingertips as I curl them into the jacket, shamelessly smelling his jacket and savouring his scent. I never know for certain what my feelings are towards Lazarus, maybe I don’t want to know because the thought of falling in love with the one man I shouldn’t – fucking terrifies me.


Especially when I feel the prominent ache in my heart at his absence.


Pushing the confusion of my own feelings aside, I couldn’t stay here. Scanning the floor for my dress that was completely torn into pieces, “Fuck.”


Slipping my arms through his jacket and fastening the buttons, picking up my dress to cover my chest as I neared the door, slowly pulling it open to make my escape.


Chapter 72 A Weakness I Couldn't Have