Lenaleia

A fated bond that could kill her.
A king who’d rather let her die than crave her.

Violet isn’t just an outsider in her wolf pack—she’s a ghost. Raised by a traitorous Alpha and discarded by the mate she thought she knew, she flees into the night with a death sentence on her heels. Freedom is her only hope... until she crashes into ​​Asher.

The ​​Lycan King​​ is a blade forged in ice and shadow. He rules with absolute ruthlessness, haunted by a past that devours mercy. When Violet collapses at his feet, his instinct isn’t salvation—it’s annihilation. Because the moment their skin brushes, a searing, unwanted bond ignites between them.

​​And this bond doesn't just burn—it bleeds.​

She never wanted a king.
He never needed a weakness.
But fate demands blood… and the first cut might save—or slaughter—them both.

Bloodbound to the Lycan King

The Echo girl's scent is strange, but I can't figure it out. Wolf-Eye, the idiot, doesn't seem to mind; then again, he was always partial to women. A little too friendly, a little too willing. Far more gregarious than the typical Lycan.


I glower at Echo's camper, fingers digging into the cheap plastic armrests of Evan's folding chair. Something about that woman sets my teeth on edge. The rainbow-haired enigma kicked us out the second breakfast was over—for them. She didn't bat an eye at our half-full plates or still-steaming coffee mugs.


Who does that to the Lycan King? More importantly, who does that to any Lycan without flinching? It's strange.


Fenris lifts his head; he's been moping for the past ten minutes, since he was thrown out with us. He didn't want to leave, but Violet stared at me with her pretty grass-green eyes until I picked him up and took him with me.


Chapter 53