Alpha Vorthrane's Pet
They say Alpha Kael Vorthrane is not a man.
He is a curse.
A beast born from betrayal.
A ruler who destroyed entire packs to build his throne.
And now... he owns mine.
I am Liora Ashwyn.
Daughter of the Dark Moon Alpha.
The girl my own parents handed over like a peace offering when Alpha Kael came for revenge.
I watched him slaughter my pack.
I watched my parents choose me to save themselves.
And I watched his soldiers drag me away to be his "gift."
But when Alpha Kael finally looked at me...
He didn't see a slave.
He saw the daughter of the people who ruined his life.
And he decided I would pay for their sins.
Kael doesn't just want my body.
He wants my fear.
My pride.
My spirit.
He wants to break me slowly.
Because his wolf is insatiable.
Cruel.
Hungry for revenge.
And I am the perfect victim.
But Alpha Kael doesn't know one thing...
I am not as weak as I look.
And the girl he plans to destroy might be the only one capable of destroying him.
Or worse...
Becoming the one thing his wolf never expected.
His perfect mate.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 4
Liora's POV
"She is dangerous."
Alpha Kael's voice followed me like a shadow as the guards dragged me from the room.
My feet barely touched the floor as they hauled me through the doorway, their grips iron-tight around my arms.
The heavy doors slammed shut behind us with a thunderous boom that echoed through the corridor, sealing away the warmth of the chamber and replacing it with the cold breath of the fortress halls.
The stone beneath my bare feet felt like ice.
I clenched my teeth, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing me cry out as they pulled me along.
Torches flickered along the walls. The scent of smoke hung thick in the air, mixing with the smell of wolves everywhere.
Their presence pressed against my senses like invisible eyes watching from every corner. Even though I could not see them, I knew they were there and every single one of them stared.
Their gazes followed me as the guards dragged me past then a murmur rippled through the corridor.
"Is that her?"
"One of the girls the Alpha took tonight?"
"She smells... strange."
I stiffened at the last whisper.
Strange?
My heart pounded harder.
One of the guards holding me shifted uncomfortably. His grip tightened for a moment before loosening again, as though he had suddenly remembered how hard he was holding me.
"Keep moving," the other guard muttered under his breath.
We turned down another hallway, this one darker and narrower than the last.
The torches burned lower here, their light dimmer. The air felt colder too, creeping through the thin linen clinging to my skin.
I hated how exposed I felt. The thin fabric of the lingerie barely covered anything. Every step I took reminded me of that humiliation.
I forced my spine to straighten despite the guards dragging me along.
The guards suddenly stopped and a heavy iron door stood before us. My stomach twisted when I realised this was the dungeon.
One guard stepped forward and shoved the door open. The hinges screeched loudly, the sound echoing through the dark corridor beyond.
"Inside," he said roughly.
Before I could react, they pushed me forward.
My bare feet slipped slightly on the cold floor as I stumbled into the cell. I caught myself just before falling, my hands pressing against the rough stone wall.
The door slammed behind me as I stood there for a long moment, breathing slowly, forcing myself to remain calm.
My thoughts kept drifting back to Alpha Kael Vorthrane. The most feared Alpha in the northern territories.
Even as a child I had heard stories about him. How ruthless he was in battle, how entire packs had fallen under his command, how enemies disappeared without a trace once they crossed him and now I belonged to him.
The thought made my chest tighten.
I hated it, I hated him, but more than anything, I hated my parents.
Sounds of footsteps approaching the dungeon broke the silence.
The iron door creaked open, moonlight from the corridor spilled into the cell and Alpha Kael stepped inside.
The air changed instantly. His presence filled the small space like a storm cloud rolling over the sky.
He looked different here in the dim light. He looked more dangerous.
The shadows emphasized the sharp lines of his jaw and the dark intensity of his eyes. His black shirt clung to the broad strength of his shoulders, the sleeves rolled up to reveal powerful forearms.
For a moment, neither of us spoke then he closed the door behind him. The click of the lock echoed softly.
My heart skipped as he began walking toward me, each step deliberate and predatory.
I forced myself to stand, even though every instinct screamed at me to run, but there was nowhere to go.
My back touched the cold stone wall and he stopped only a few inches away.
Up close, his scent was overwhelming. His eyes moved over me slowly, from my hair, to my shoulders, to the thin linen clinging to my body and a strange heat rose in my cheeks.
I hated that reaction. I hated that my body noticed him at all.
"What are you?" he asked suddenly, his voice low.
The question caught me off guard.
"What?"
His hand moved suddenly. Before I could react, his fingers gripped my chin, forcing my face upward.
The touch was firm and my heart raced beneath his fingertips.
"What are you?" he repeated quietly.
His eyes searched my face like he was looking for something hidden beneath my skin.
Anger flared inside me.
"I'm the girl you bought," I said bitterly.
His expression darkened.
"No, you are something else" he murmured.
The word sent a strange shiver down my spine and my breath caught.
Something in his voice had changed. His gaze dropped to my neck then to the hill of my breasts.
His nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled and when I realized he was smelling me, my stomach twisted.
"What are you doing?" I demanded but he didn't answer.
Instead, he leaned close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin.
A strange tension filled the air between us, thick and electric. His grip on my chin loosened slightly but he didn't step away.
"You don't even know," he said quietly.
The words confused me.
"Know what?"
His eyes lifted back to mine.
"You affect my wolf," he said.
My stomach dropped.
"What?"
"That shouldn't happen."
His hand slid from my chin to the side of my neck. His thumb brushed lightly against the spot where he had bitten me earlier and the skin there tingled.
My body reacted before my mind could stop it as a faint shiver ran through me.
His eyes darkened instantly. A slow smile touched the corner of his mouth.
His hand suddenly pressed me back against the wall. The stone was cold against my back and his body moved closer.
My breathing grew uneven.
"You're dangerous," he murmured.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
He leaned down slightly, his nose brushing near my throat with another slow inhale.
His eyes closed briefly and then his entire body went still.
His wolf surged to the surface so suddenly I felt it like a physical force pressing against my chest.
His eyes snapped open with gold flashing briefly within the darkness of his gaze.
His hand tightened on my arm.
A chill crept down my spine as his gaze locked onto mine and the next words sent a wave of dread crashing through me.
He leaned closer, his breath resting against my lips.
"Your blood....shouldn't exist" he said slowly.
You may also like
7.8
I was the "perfect" fiancée for Harrison Vincent—regal, silent, and low-maintenance. For two years, I suppressed my career as a forensic accountant to be the "safe" choice that polled well with his family’s shareholders.
But at a high-society gala, I found him in a VIP lounge with a socialite wrapped around him. He told her I was just a "boring art piece display stand" he had to drag around until his trust fund was unlocked.
I didn't scream or make a scene. I mentally filed a "bad debt" report, tossed my emerald engagement ring into a glass of stale champagne, and walked out of his life. That same night, I found myself in a dark jazz club bathroom, using a strip of my velvet dress to stop the bleeding of a mysterious man with a gunshot wound and eyes like grey flint.
The fallout was immediate. Harrison blocked my credit cards, assuming I’d crawl back once I couldn't afford rent. His mother called me a "nobody" while simultaneously begging me to handle the family's medical emergencies because they were too panicked to function. They treated me like a tool they could discard and pick up at will, never realizing I had already moved my things into a cramped Brooklyn apartment.
I couldn't understand why they thought I was still their puppet, or why a black Maybach began following me through the city streets. I had saved a stranger's life and ended a toxic engagement, yet the air around me felt heavier and more dangerous than ever.
The truth came out at the hospital when the most feared man in the city stepped out of the shadows. It was the man from the bathroom—Collis Vincent, the ruthless head of the family. He didn't just humiliate Harrison; he took my hand in front of everyone and made a chilling declaration.
"Harrison is a fool to have let you go, Helena. Your arrangement with him is terminated. From now on, you'll be working with me."
9.5
Alina was the eldest daughter of the prestigious Padilla family, but everyone mocked her as a defective dud who couldn't cast a single spell.
The moment she woke up, her father and younger sister Karina barged into her room, demanding she sign a transfer agreement to the Aethelgard Order-the most brutal faction on the continent.
It wasn't just a transfer; it was a legal disownment. In her past life, Alina didn't realize Karina was also reborn. She had dropped to her knees and begged to stay. Her reward? Her magic was violently drained from her veins by her own family. Her fiancé drove a blade through her chest, and her sister stood over her bleeding body, smiling. She had ruined her hands making potions for them, only to be discarded like trash.
The phantom pain of her chest being ripped open still burned behind her ribs. Looking at the hypocritical family waiting for her tears, she felt nothing but exhausting disgust. Why should she ever be their stepping stone again?
"For the honor of the family, you leave today."
Her father sneered as she calmly bit her thumb and pressed her bloody fingerprint onto the contract. This time, Alina didn't cry. She packed a single bag and walked out the door, heading straight for the deadly Aethelgard Order to show them what a true monster looked like.
8.3
EDEN
8.3
Elianila, an AI Architect, is part of an elite team tasked with designing a global system meant to prevent threats, manage disasters, and distribute resources to vulnerable regions. After five years of tireless work with her colleagues, she uncovers disturbing anomalies, code-named, X-variables, that flag individuals according to criteria she never programmed.
As Elianila digs deeper to understand what the X-variables measure and where their origin, she finds herself in direct conflict with the authorities. Soon, the System marks her and her daughter as threats - targets to be eliminated.
With a small band of colleagues and dissidents, Elianila goes on the run, hiding in places beyond the Systems reach. As they evade surveillance, they race against time to warn others, expose the truth, and fight back against the omnipresent authority of the System.
9.2
On New Year's Eve, when the city is noisy with excitement and hope, Aria Moretti merely wants to hide.
Instead, she finds a dying guy in an alley-bleeding, dangerous, and inexplicably quiet.
Dante Russo is not a stranger fate intended her to save. He is a man made by violence, linked by blood oaths and secrets that may kill her. Helping him means crossing a line she can never uncross. Letting him go means surviving... but losing something she never knew she wanted.
As love burns in the shadows and danger follows them through locked doors and whispered threats, Aria must decide how much of herself she is willing to risk for a man who lives in darkness.
Because loving Dante doesn't only mean heartbreak.
It signifies blood. It signifies battle. And it implies that after midnight passes, there is no turning back.
7.4
I was only fifteen when my venomous family orchestrated my doom by forcing me into an arranged marriage with mafia heir Javier Velasquez.
On our wedding night, Javier paraded strippers into our suite to show his absolute contempt, turning me into the ultimate joke of the underworld overnight.
But being a joke was a luxury compared to what came next.
Three years later, Javier needed to be a widower to marry into a heavily armed family and secure their backing for a coup.
He didn't grant me the mercy of a bullet.
Instead, he dragged me to an abandoned underground safehouse, locked me in the damp, rotting dark, and told the world I had been assassinated.
For six months, I starved in that dungeon, surviving only on the desperate hope that my family was safe.
Then, on the day of his lavish new wedding, a cruel maid kicked a plate of spoiled food onto my floor and delivered the final, fatal blow.
"Annabel is dead. Pined away and died of a broken heart two weeks ago."
My gentle mother was dead, all because she actually believed his lie about my tragic murder.
Driven by pure agony and an all-consuming hatred, I shattered crates of smuggled chemical solvents and struck a match, letting the roaring inferno turn their bloody wedding into my funeral pyre.
I thought the fire was the end.
But when I opened my eyes, the suffocating smoke vanished, replaced by the biting chill of a Long Island winter.
I was standing in the snow, back on the exact day my descent into hell began.
This time, the terrified girl was dead, and I would use their own ruthless rules to tear their empire apart.
8.1
Erich died in a freezing cabin, abandoned by the powerful Hollywood actor who had kept him as an abused, captive pet.
But instead of finding peace, his eyes snapped open in a rundown bedroom. He had been reborn into the body of a suicidal stranger.
The original owner, who shared his exact name, had swallowed a bottle of pills after being framed for plagiarism and destroyed by cyberbullying.
Now, his new family was drowning in medical debt and facing foreclosure.
Meanwhile, Erich was still paralyzed by the severe PTSD of his past life, suffocating at the mere memory of his ex's footsteps.
Desperate to shed his trauma, he went to a barbershop to cut off the greasy hair hiding his new face.
But when the barber removed the cape, a wave of pure, unadulterated terror crashed over Erich.
Staring back in the mirror was his exact original face, complete with his signature teardrop mole.
He knew if his psychopathic ex saw this face, the man would tear the world apart to drag him back to his personal hell in Malibu.
But Erich refused to be a victim again. He grabbed a flyer for a prestigious art competition and looked at his stunned new sister.
"I'm going to New York."
This time, he wouldn't hide. He was going to use his art to save this broken family and declare war on everyone who had ruined them.