Fated to the Dangerous and Possessive Lycan King
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After catching my fiancé cheating with my adoptive sister, I broke off our engagement on the spot.
In retaliation, my abusive adoptive parents sold me to Kaelen Knight, the Lycan King, to clear our pack's debts.
He was rumored to be a ruthless, reclusive monster who had been horribly crippled in a fire centuries ago.
To ensure my absolute ruin, my sister planted fake love letters to my ex in my luggage and anonymously destroyed my university scholarship, cutting off my only escape route to the human world.
"A wolfless whore. You planned to drug me," Kaelen sneered, looking at the fake evidence with absolute disgust.
Believing I was a spy, my new husband had his guards throw me into the freezing woods with the Dire Wolves, leaving me to survive the night alone.
I was just a broken, wolfless Omega, entirely at the mercy of a cruel, powerless Lycan and a family that wanted me dead.
But I was wrong about him being powerless.
One night, I accidentally saw him rise from his wheelchair, his tall frame radiating an overwhelming, lethal aura.
He wasn't crippled at all.
The secret I thought was my shield was actually a loaded gun pointed at my head. Trapped with a terrifying predator, I had to stop playing the victim and fight for my life.
Fated to the Dangerous and Possessive Lycan King Chapter 1
Seraphina POV
The leather seats of the Uber Black felt like ice against my bare legs. Outside the tinted windows, the city's neon lights blurred into long, weeping streaks, but all I could see was the nightmare from a few hours ago.
Aidan Knight, my fiancé, pinning my adoptive sister Cassandra against the brick wall of the Silvercrest Pack's training grounds. The sickening sound of their skin slapping together, their breathless moans echoing in the quiet afternoon.
When I caught them, Aidan hadn't even looked guilty. He just sneered, adjusting his clothes with arrogant Alpha pride.
*"You're a cold, wolfless bitch!"* his voice echoed in my head, dripping with venom. *"You have no Inner Wolf, how could you possibly understand the needs of an Alpha?!"*
I had broken the engagement right then and there. It was political suicide—a death sentence for my desperate attempt to escape my abusive adoptive parents, Alpha Alaric and Luna Genevieve. But I couldn't stomach the humiliation of being traded like a defective piece of meat.
"Miss, where to?" the driver asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
I looked out the window and saw the grand entrance of a luxury hotel. A velvet rope guarded a sign that read: *Exclusive Masquerade Gala*.
"Here," I blurted out.
I needed to feel something. I needed to prove Aidan wrong. I wasn't just a broken, wolfless Omega.
Ten minutes later, wearing a delicate lace half-mask I bought from a vendor outside, I slipped into the dimly lit ballroom. The air was thick with champagne and expensive perfumes, but one scent cut through the noise like a silver blade.
Pine needles before a violent storm, mixed with the sharp tang of cold steel.
It drew me to the bar. He was standing there, a towering silhouette in a bespoke black suit, his face concealed by a sleek, dark mask. His eyes, dark as obsidian, locked onto mine. A strange, terrifying heat coiled in my lower belly. I didn't know his name, but when I stepped closer and whispered a reckless invitation, he didn't hesitate.
The doors of the penthouse suite barely clicked shut before I crashed my lips against his.
I expected a stranger's clumsy touch, but what I got was a predator. He growled—a deep, chest-vibrating sound—and backed me against the heavy oak door. His hands gripped my waist, and the moment his skin brushed mine, a violent jolt of electricity shot through my veins. I gasped, my knees buckling. It was intoxicating. It felt like coming home.
His mouth devoured mine, his teeth grazing my lower lip with a possessive hunger that made my blood boil. For a fleeting second, I forgot Aidan. I forgot the Stonehaven Pack. I was just a woman burning alive in the dark.
Then, the heavy click of the wall switch echoed through the room.
Blinding light flooded the modern, monochromatic suite. I blinked, disoriented. The man didn't remove his mask. Instead, his large, calloused hand reached up and tore the lace mask from my face.
I looked up, expecting to see desire. Instead, the obsidian eyes behind his mask had frozen over. The intoxicating heat radiating from him vanished, replaced by a suffocating, icy aura of absolute power.
He shoved me away, his broad chest heaving.
"Is this how the future Luna of Silvercrest Pack conducts herself?" his voice was a lethal, low baritone that made the glass on the coffee table rattle. "Offering herself to any stranger in a mask?"
The words hit me like a physical blow. The desire in my veins turned to ice. He knew who I was. He knew Aidan.
Humiliation burned my throat, but years of surviving as a bullied outcast had taught me how to bite back. I lifted my chin, my violet eyes blazing with unshed tears. "What about you?!" I spat. "Don't you take any willing woman to your bed?!"
A muscle feathered in his tight jaw. The air in the room grew so heavy I could barely breathe.
He pulled out his phone, his gaze slicing through me with pure disgust. "I'll book you a ride. Leave."
My chest hollowed out. I didn't wait for him to open the door. I turned and fled the penthouse, the scent of storm and steel clinging to my skin like a permanent brand as I headed back to the one place I swore I'd never return to.
Continue Reading
Fated to the Dangerous and Possessive Lycan King of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels
7.4
Briony was devastated when her boyfriend proposed to her best friend in front of her. Not only was she betrayed, but she was also publicly humiliated.
Five years later, she became popular after writing her heartbreaking love story into a novel. Her ex-boyfriend was offended. When he condemned her, she swore she would have nothing to do with him anymore.
Unfortunately, fate had other plans. Briony accidentally hit a child with her car, who turned out to be the son of Alexander, her ex-boyfriend! As punishment, she was forced to be his nanny until his cast arm healed.
What would happen next? Could she endure the torture from the ex who secretly still wanted her?
8.9
Ava Kidd just wanted to escape her abusive stepmother when she got drunk at a high-end club and stumbled into the wrong hotel room.
She woke up the next morning in a luxury penthouse, lying naked next to a terrifyingly handsome man covered in her scratch marks.
Recalling rumors of the hotel's secret underground concierge, she immediately assumed she had accidentally slept with an elite male escort.
Desperate to settle the bill, she offered him her only debit card with a pathetic $1,800.
But the man, who was actually Garrison Terry, the ruthless billionaire CEO, was deeply insulted by the cheap plastic.
He trapped her against the bed, coldly demanding a half-million-dollar service fee.
When Ava frantically offered her dead mother's tarnished locket as collateral, he cruelly dismissed it as worthless junk.
Ava was humiliated, her heart pounding with absolute terror.
She didn't understand why this arrogant gigolo was acting like a deranged extortionist, demanding a fortune from a broke girl who had clearly made a mistake.
Furious and refusing to cower, she sneaked out, put on his oversized designer shirt, and aggressively ate his $800 truffle breakfast.
Having no money left, she grabbed her cheap red lipstick, wrote a defiant IOU on his expensive linen napkin, and fled the hotel.
She thought she had escaped a criminal, but upstairs, the billionaire traced her lipstick-stained name with a predatory smile.
"Ava Kidd, I will absolutely find you."
9.2
I woke up suffocating in the dark, only to find my mind trapped inside a tiny, plump, and entirely uncoordinated body.
A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my brain, announcing that I was dead in my original world and had transmigrated into a corporate revenge novel as the six-month-old illegitimate daughter of Edward McClure, the story's ruthless villain.
The system mercilessly outlined my doomed fate. Tonight, my cold-blooded father would abandon me to a state orphanage. By age two, he would officially sign my rights away, leaving me to die miserably at the hands of human traffickers. Outside my nursery, I could hear his terrifying footsteps approaching, his voice devoid of any human warmth as he debated throwing me out like garbage. I was completely helpless, trapped in a baby's body, staring up at a man who looked at me with pure, visceral disgust.
Why did I have to be reborn as the tragic cannon fodder of a tyrant destined to put a bullet in his own head? How was I supposed to win over a severe germaphobe when my unequipped infant reflexes made me literally pee and vomit all over his pristine Tom Ford suits?
"Your ultimate mission is to prevent Edward McClure's self-destruction. Step one: Survive tonight's abandonment crisis."
Hearing the system's terrifying ultimatum, I swallowed my adult panic, forced a pool of pitiful tears into my large eyes, and reached my chubby little hands toward the monster.
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.
8.5
Aileen transmigrated into a dark, unfinished novel as the villainous, abusive wife of a powerful billionaire.
The moment she opened her eyes, her husband's calloused hand was crushing her throat, and her six-year-old stepson was pointing a box cutter at her face, screaming for her to die.
A cold system voice suddenly exploded in her brain, forcing a mandatory mission: save the villainous father and son, or face immediate death.
To survive the system's strict Out-Of-Character warnings, Aileen had to keep playing the role of the deranged, hateful wife.
She was despised by everyone. Her husband threatened to drag her to an asylum, and her terrified stepson scrubbed the floor with his own pajamas just to avoid her wrath.
Things escalated when the novel's original female lead publicly framed Aileen in Central Park, throwing herself onto the grass and clutching her pregnant belly.
"She pushed me. She tried to hurt the baby!"
Archer rushed over, shoved Aileen aside with absolute disgust, and looked at her with the eyes of a murderer.
Aileen felt a bitter wave of exhaustion. She had discovered the original owner's hidden antipsychotic pills; the woman wasn't just evil, she was severely mentally ill and completely broken by this loveless marriage.
Yet, no one cared, and her husband would always choose to believe his childhood sweetheart's fake tears.
Since everyone in this world was convinced she was an unpredictable lunatic, she decided to give them exactly what they expected.
Aileen turned her back on the ridiculous scene, a cold smile forming on her lips.
She was going to stage a massive, undeniable psychological breakdown, using her "insanity" as the perfect shield to play the system and rewrite her fate.
8.3
For three years, Connor lived as a ghost. A crippled, useless Uber driver, enduring a self-imposed exile orchestrated by his dying grandfather's will to prove he was worthy of the Hoffman empire. He even married into the wealthy Barlowe family, becoming their favorite punching bag.
On the very last day of his test, his final Uber passengers slid into the backseat. It was his wife, Genevieve, and her wealthy lover.
They didn't recognize him behind his mask. Right there in his rearview mirror, they kissed hungrily, mocking her "pathetic loser" of a husband and plotting to dump him after her sister's wedding.
The next day at the wedding, they didn't just want a divorce. They wanted to publicly crucify him.
Her lover framed Connor as a violent, cheating degenerate. They rallied the city's elite, getting his Uber manager to publicly fire him and convincing the entire ballroom to blacklist him from every job, apartment, and business in Ninverton.
They even brought in an arrogant Vice President from the Hoffman Group to publicly declare Connor was a fraud, sealing his social execution.
Standing alone in that lobby, surrounded by the mocking laughter of the people who had trampled on his dignity for a thousand days, Connor felt the last shred of his patience burn away. They were so utterly, hopelessly blind.
Then, his encrypted phone rang.
"Mr. Wise, the test is officially over. You are now the Global CEO of the Hoffman Group."
Connor looked at his cheating wife and the arrogant elites laughing at his demise. He dropped the signed divorce papers on the table.
The game was over. The slaughter was about to begin.
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