Blessing_Nwodo_16

She was to marry the man who led the attack on her people.

After her father is murdered, Circe is forced to leave her home and become a prisoner of the enemy. When she is taken to the enemy territory, she expects to be tortured physically in every way imaginable. But what she hadn't expected was for the vampire king to offer her up as a bride to his illegitimate son, the very same man that had her people slaughtered.

It was a fate worse than torture.

With her little brother's life on the line and with nowhere to run, Circe is forced to succumb to her fate. Right then she vowed in the name of her dead father to bring her husband to his knees. She would have her revenge, even if it meant destroying herself in the process.

From the first time Prince Ragnar laid eyes on Circe, he knew she was going to be trouble. But trouble had never looked so intriguing. She was a puzzle he couldn't solve and that fact only drew him closer. Like a moth to a flame, she threatened to consume him. She would be his very own demise.

Circe's presence in Lamora awoke something sinister, a malicious entity roaming the lands.

From dusk till dawn, the streets of Lamora becomes engulfed in a strange fog and from within the voice of a woman can be heard. Anyone who wanders out at night when the fog comes, vanishes seemingly without a trace. Never to be found again.

what happens when Circe's brother becomes a victim of this evil presence? What happens when Circe has no other choice but to team up with her husband, who she despises, in order to find the truth behind the disappearances and the evil magic plaguing their lands.

Claimed by the vampire prince

Pain licked over every inch of his skin. Darkness surrounded him, pressing in at all sides. Images of eyes as black as pitch bombarded him. It was all he saw. Eyes as black as the abyss, brimming with malice and wicked hunger.

Hairan's eyes fluttered open. He was in a bed, laying motionless on his back, blinking up at the high ceilings of the bed chambers, his own bed chambers. Even without twitching a finger, he knew most of his wounds had already healed. It didn't stop the rest of his body from hurting.

His chest heaved with every breath. It hurt to breathe. He could still feel the phantom pressure of Ragnar kneeing on his chest, pinning him to the dirt.

Chapter 32