oma1

The villain wasn’t meant to be an emperor—nor was he supposed to be handsome. Yet he hates me, and I don’t know why.

Attending the Academy of the Arcane—a school for the supernatural elite to hone their power—I became a rebel, untouchable and unstoppable. My beauty became both a weapon and a curse, a mocking reminder of the life I’d lost.

Among the whispers and wary stares, one figure cut through the chaos: Tharros, the Emperor of Shadows. The supreme ruler of witches, vampires, werewolves, and fae alike. His cold, burning gaze seared through me, heavy with a hatred that felt almost intimate.

"You made me this way," he snarled, his face a living testament to fury and torment. His presence was a storm I couldn’t escape, and his accusations pierced my soul. Yet I had no memory of him—or the crime he swore I committed.

When I denied his claims, his laughter followed me like a curse.

"You don’t remember? Then I’ll make sure you never forget."

Days later, I awoke as his bride—bound to him by a marriage I never agreed to, shackled to his vengeance. Tharros’ darkness envelops me, threatening to consume everything I am.

Now, I must unravel the secrets of his hatred, the truth about my parents’ murder, and the twisted memories he swears I’ve buried.

Because in this deadly game of vengeance and power, the line between hate and something far more dangerous grows thinner with every heartbeat

Bound To The shadowed alpha

The Nightweaver shook his head slowly, his expression unreadable but his black eyes glinting with something close to skepticism.

"I just hope you know what you're doing, my Lord," he said, his voice flat but heavy with implication. His gaze lingered on Tharros, as if silently challenging him, daring him to prove otherwise.

Tharros's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides as he tried to suppress the surge of irritation that rose within him. The Nightweaver's emotionless stare, the subtle doubt behind his words, stoked the embers of his anger.

"I do know what I'm doing," Tharros said, his voice low but firm, each word laced with restrained fury. "I'm not some fool blindly chasing revenge. Every step I take is deliberate." He took a step closer to the Nightweaver, his eyes narrowing. "Don't mistake my patience for weakness."

The Nightweaver didn't flinch, but the slightest twitch of his jaw betrayed his unease.

The King's Secret