My sister wants Lycan's love, but I want him to die
In the year 2333, humanity has fallen and ruled by werewolves. Bellatrix Sinclair, an 18-year-old weapons prodigy that despises werewolves for destroying her family has been secretly planning to join the human rebellion.
However, she is forced into the Mate Selection Process and matched with Lazarus De Loughrey, the ruthless Werewolf King obsessed with claiming her.
He shouldn't want her and she should hate him but they cannot resist each other. It's a twisted connection, entirely physical because all I am is his slave.
My heart should belong to my best friend Emmett, a human. Atleast the guilt of betrayal wouldn't be eating away at my insides.
___________________________
"Yes please." She begs.
"Then fucking let me in." I growled, this fury exploding with vengeance. I wanted to destroy her pussy.
It was maddening, it was sickening, it was barbaric.
But I never claimed to be saint.
"Here that baby, that's the sound of your greedy pussy sucking on my cock. Give me more, drench me."
"Lazarus." She moans painfully, "Please let me come."
I'm doused in gasoline and set alight, sweat coats my skin as I pound into her faster and harder. I'm definitely hurting her, "Wanna come?" I rasped, "Not until I say so."
Pressing my lips onto hers, pushing my tongue into her mouth until I feel the sweetness of hers. The kiss is sloppy and filthy. She cries as I drive my cock into her, the intensity too much to handle, sweet tears sliding onto her cheeks.
"Fuck yes." I smile sadistically, licking her tears. "Cry for me Ma Cherie."
"Please, please let me come My King." She pleads.
"Say it again." Lightening shooting down my spine as she begged, "My King, please let me come. I'll be good."
I chuckled, "Try your luck to kill me Ma Cherie, I dare you."
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Chapter 5
Bellatrix Sinclair
Today would decide my fate, the genetic screening for the mate selection was taking place. Before I left the medical room last night, Colton had to administer a shot to prevent any swelling for the next forty-eight hours otherwise my face would have puffed like a blowfish.
However, like this day, the bruises on my face were unescapable. An ugly swirl of purple and black colouring my cheeks and stretching to my left eye, quickly applying an entire tube of concealer over them.
I couldn't have any imperfections. For the genetic screening, humans were required to be pristine in order to make the choice easier for werewolves. Reiterating the notion that they were truly vain, only caring about appearances instead of what truly mattered.
Giving myself a onceover in the mirror, the thick layer of concealer I put on my skin made it impossibly pale, making me appear sickly. Rummaging through the mess on my table, snatching the contour and carving more defined cheekbones, bronzing the outer layer and applying some liquid blush to bring life back to my face.
Makeup was an artistry I perfected, making myself unrecognisable.
____________________________________________________
The screening took place in a massive venue, a sea of people awaiting testing. Bonnie stood behind me, repeatedly tapping at my shoulder, "Hey Trix, can you give me the necklace now? it's easier than waiting last minute till we reach the end. Plus, I need it to complete my outfit."
Bonnie was never one to pay attention to social cues or others for that matter. I wasn't oblivious to her selfishness, her ability to only care about herself. Pressing my lips tightly together, unable to answer because I might lose my temper on her.
"Bellatrix," she seethed, "Where is my necklace? Don't tell me you lied."
Taking a deep breath to calm the storm brewing in my chest. If I didn't respond to her, Bonnie would continue to pester me, and it will only get worse from here. Pivoting to meet her bitter gaze, her features pinched in displeasure. "Where is it?" she gritted.
"I don't have it." I reply, lips thinning.
Her crystalized sapphires burned with vexation, "Why the fuck not? I told you how fucking important this was for me." She snarled with an incensed tone.
Furrowing my brows at her audacity, I scoff in a broken chuckle. "You have no idea what I go through to make you happy."
"Don't act like you do much for me." She said indignantly.
My eyes widened, "Are you fucking serious? I do everything for you." I snapped. "I'm always bending over backwards to please you and make you happy. When have you ever done anything for me?"
"I'm always here for you, I don't think you realize how exhausting you are Bellatrix." Her barbed voice contested, deliberately plunging a knife to my heart. "If it wasn't for me, you would be completely alone because who would want you."
My lips part involuntarily, I prided myself on being impenetrable but lately the cracks are showing in my armour. For my sister whom I love dearly to say this to me, it was a punch to the gut. Nothing would shatter my resolve, but Bonnie was becoming an expert at torture behind the cloak of invisibility.
"I'm tired of walking on eggshells around you." She callously said. "You're so damn useless and depressing that I should get a damn meddle for putting up with you for this long."
Grinding my teeth, "Should I bow down to you and beg for your forgiveness?" I questioned sarcastically, "I wondered how a selfish brat like yourself lasted this long."
I was being spiteful, squashing the guilt and sorrow that soured my heart. Bonnie laughed sinisterly, "I might be a brat, but you have always caused problems for others. We couldn't even get adopted because you were so selfish and only thought about yourself. I could have had a better life if it wasn't for you." She spat bitterly.
"I know you like to delude yourself into thinking everything is my fault but don't get it twisted. If it wasn't for me, you would have starved to death at the orphanage." I sneered with a glare.
"Bonnie Sinclair." The announcer called.
Bonnie smirked at me, "I'll become a werewolf's mate and then I can finally rid myself of your pathetic ass once and for all."
She climbed the ten steps leading towards the gigantic platform. My eyes stung, blinking repeatedly to rid myself of shedding tears. "I'm not going to fucking cry at this, I'm not weak." I muttered, taking deep breaths to control a semblance of my emotions.
It seemed like eons before they Bonnie's results were announced, "No Matches Found."
Bonnie was fuming, stomping down the steps and mumbling to herself. This was her moment, she dolled herself up to become a wolfs mate and her efforts were futile. "This is all your fucking fault." She growled in my direction.
"Bellatrix Sinclair."
My feet were moving of their own accord, like I wasn't in control. Every muscle tensed, holding my breath for what seemed like ages. My heart racing impossibly loud that it resounded in my ears, it was eager to break bone and burst from my chest.
The instructors were comprised of a slender female and a lean male. They both had matching chocolate brown hair and hazelnut eyes, presumably siblings. "Please give us a sample of your blood." Her monotoned voice motioned towards the device.
There was a large cylinder in front of me, a life-sized lava lamp comprised of dark purple. I knew from others that it flashed red when you weren't a wolf's mate and green when you were. The man grabbed my hand, his grasp light and feathery.
A black rectangular screen imbedded into the clear podium before the cylinder, he uncurled my clammy hands and took out a pen that resembled the ones diabetics used to inject insulin. I barely felt the pricking of my finger, my mind racing with a million thoughts. Swallowing thickly, every inch of my body thrusted into an inferno.
He places my index finger onto the screen, making a swiping motion to showcase the streak of blood. A white scanner slings across the screen, processing my blood. For the purpose of this screening, all werewolves blood was recorded into the system like humans. They match your blood cells against theirs, determining if there is a compatibility.
"Please be red. Please be red." I chanted desperately.
Suddenly, the lava lamp bubbles change into a radiant gold. A colour I hadn't seen before.
"Congratulation." She beamed, "You are matched with a high-ranking werewolf."
I stare blankly at her, there is no fucking way. This cannot be happening; I feel like I'm going to pass out.
"What!" Bonnie shouted, outraged. "That's not fucking fair, she doesn't deserve this!"
Bonnie face contoured with jealousy, malice leaking from her orbs. "She is a traitor." Bonnie bellowed, pointing a finger at me which garnered the attention of all the guards. "She is in possession of weapons and has been illegally working on them for years. Bellatrix is not worthy of being a high-ranking werewolf's mate, she needs to be imprisoned for breaking the law."
My eyes widened, bulging from their sockets as the shock charges every cell in my body. I couldn't breathe properly, my thoughts in disarray and unable to process the betrayal. Hastily scanning my surroundings, every guard rushing towards me.
Hell fucking no. I didn't get this far to be imprisoned because my sister couldn't understand the difference that being a human mate wasn't a fucking privilege – it was death sentence.
Blinded by her wicked smile, my body vibrating as they attempted to restrain me. The icy metal cuffs touching my wrists, and I panic, kicking one guy in the shin and headbutting the other. My head was pounding but I didn't care, I needed to escape.
Making a dash down the stairs and towards the double doors. The guards were coming for me at every direction, twisting my head profusely to ensure they didn't catch me. Fleeing was my only option; I could only hope that I could find the rebellion group before they kill me.
Suddenly, I slam into a hard chest. Dizzy from the pain and stress, I barely register the deep raspy voice.
"Mate." He proclaimed, his searing fingers curling around my biceps and restraining me.
I pale as the word echoes like a haunted melody, my body freezing from shock and my heart leaping into my throat. Dread filtering through my bloodstream like poison.
Because the man who called me his mate, the man with piercing black eyes staring into my soul.
It was Lazarus de Loughrey – the Werewolf King.
And I was his human mate.
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8.6
"What do you think people would say if they found out you don't have a dick?" Christian asked, his voice low and dripping with seduction. His hand pressed firmly against my crotch, fingers exploring the flat, unfamiliar emptiness there. A devilish smirk curved his lips. "Or if they discovered these voluptuous breasts you've been hiding so well?"
A strangled moan slipped from my throat as his hand slid under my shirt, his fingers brushing over my hardened nipples, teasing them with slow, deliberate strokes.
"Which do you think they'd call you?" he murmured, eyes gleaming. "A boy with tits... or a dickless little fraud?"
I stared into his hungry blue eyes, words failing me.
"The term you're looking for is 'girl,'" came Xavier's smooth voice from the bathroom doorway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click, his gaze raking over me with open interest. "So tell me, little girl... what the hell is someone like you doing in an all-boys dorm?"
Christian's smirk widened. "She wants to be devoured by boys like us." His fingers gave my nipple one last firm pinch before he leaned in closer, breath hot against my ear. "And I'll be more than happy to give her a taste."
7.4
Forced into an unwanted marriage, quiet schoolteacher Delina Brooks is bound to Andrew Kingsley.He is a ruthless billionaire musician, cold and arrogant, and he hates Delina from the moment they wed.
But Andrew's world is not just his own. His glamorous ex-girlfriend, Camilla Laurent, and his manipulative sister, Veronica, are determined to destroy Delina-and reclaim Andrew for themselves. Surrounded by lies, secrets, and relentless enemies, Delina must fight for her dignity, her family, and her future.
As fate twists and turns, one question remains: Will the woman he despised become the only one he can't live without?
9.7
Sienna woke up in a hospital room, her body screaming from a severe car accident. Through the glass, a man paced with violent rage, a dark shadow she felt absolutely nothing for.
Her friend Julia burst in, eyes bloodshot, dropping a bomb: "He didn't even try to help you." Dante, Sienna's fiancé, had protected another woman, Valeria, in the crash, leaving Sienna to burn alive.
Her past life unspooled – seven years sacrificed, an architecture degree abandoned, all to serve Dante. Her phone was a shrine to him: his photos, his "taboos," and even "Valeria's preferences," with no trace of Sienna herself.
But amnesia brought no heartbreak, only a cold, calculating fury. She felt disgust for the "idiot" she'd been, stripped of dignity. The memory loss was a release, a blank slate.
With chilling resolve, Sienna deleted every trace of Dante. Ripping out her IV, she declared, "The wedding proceeds." Not for love, but as a weapon: "I need to take back everything that belongs to me before I disappear."
8.5
To the Dark Moon Pack, I wasn't just invisible; I was a stain. Dean Lee, the Alpha designed for my soul, treated me like a shameful secret while he paraded his mistress, Karina, in red silk.
The night of the Charity Auction, Dean bought my late mother's moonstone pendant—the only thing I had left of her—for a hundred thousand dollars.
I begged him for it. Instead, he clasped it around Karina's ankle.
With a cruel laugh, Karina stomped her stiletto heel, crushing the moonstone into dust. Dean just watched, his eyes cold and unfeeling.
"It was just a cheap rock," he said. "I'll buy you diamonds."
But the cruelty didn't stop at emotional torture. When rogues attacked, Dean used me as live bait to distract them from Karina.
He threw me into the Blood Pit, a gladiator arena, to fight a massive Feral wolf while he sat in the VIP box with Karina on his lap.
"She won't last three minutes," I heard him say through our dying bond.
He watched with bored detachment as I was ripped apart, refusing to save me even as I screamed his name. He saved the mistress and drowned the mate.
I died on that arena floor. Or so he thought.
Years later, the mysterious and world-renowned artist "H.Y." returned to New York for a gallery opening.
When Dean saw me on stage, he rushed forward, tears streaming down his face, trying to claim the wife he had mourned.
"Hayley," he choked out, reaching for me. "You're alive. You're mine."
I didn't cry. I didn't run.
I unleashed a shockwave of ancient White Wolf energy that blasted him across the room, shattering the glass displays.
"I don't take orders from dogs anymore," I said, looking down at him.
"I, Hayley York, hereby reject you."
7.1
I never should have let my mother hold my future hostage.
She paid my tuition with his father's money. Locked my birth certificate, my transcripts, every scrap of paper I need to survive in a safe I'll never open. And the one thing I had left of my dad, his old watch, she dangled like a noose.
Run, and I lose my education. Fight, and I lose the last piece of the man who actually loved me.
So I moved into the Hunters' mansion. Into the lair of the boy who spent years making my life hell.
Chase Hunter. Six-foot-five of pure venom wrapped in muscle and money. The senior who cornered me in empty hallways, who whispered filth in my ear just to watch me flinch, who smiled that sharp, cruel smile every time I broke a little more.
I thought graduation meant freedom from him.
I was wrong.
Now he's my stepbrother.
He hates that I'm here. Hates my mother for sinking her claws into his father. Hates me most of all, for breathing his air, for walking his halls, for daring to exist where he can reach me.
But hate isn't clean anymore.
It's tangled up in heat. In the way his grey eyes strip me bare every time they land on me. In the way his hand closes around my throat, not to hurt, but to own. In the way he punishes me over his lap, in his car, against walls, until I'm shaking and soaked and furious at myself for wanting more.
He calls me Little Lamb like it's poison on his tongue.
I call him every name I can think of under my breath.
How long until we stop fighting the deadly inferno raging between us and finally let it consume us both?
7.3
I was never supposed to step into his world.
I was just a daughter trying to survive the wreckage of a father's mistakes. A quiet girl living a small, careful life-until one night shattered everything I thought I knew about fear, power, and possession.
They say the mafia doesn't forgive.
They say debts are paid in blood.
They never warned me that sometimes, the price is a woman.
Luciano De Luca.
The name alone makes men lower their voices and avert their eyes. A king without a crown. A devil in a tailored suit. He rules the underworld with calculated brutality, commanding loyalty through fear and obedience through bloodshed. To him, mercy is a weakness-and love is a lie told by foolish men before they die.
Luciano is not a man you reason with. He is power, violence, and control wrapped in a deadly calm. A mafia king who destroys without mercy and takes without permission.
When my father fails to pay his debt, Luciano takes me instead.
I become his collateral.
His punishment.
His possession.
Trapped in his world of blood and secrets, I am nothing more than a reminder of betrayal-kept under his watch, bound by his rules, and stripped of every illusion of freedom. Luciano made it clear from the start: I am not his guest. I am not his lover. I am not free. I am his possession. He watches me like a predator studying prey-cold, assessing, waiting for me to break. He expects fear to reduce me to nothing. He expects me to beg. To submit.
But I don't.
And that defiance ignites something far more dangerous than hatred in him.
But somewhere between the locked doors and the whispered threats, I realize something dangerous: the man who owns me is far more broken than he wants the world to know.
Luciano De Luca is ruthless-but he is not heartless. He is controlling-but barely. And every time I challenge him, every time I look him in the eyes without flinching, something dark and volatile stirs beneath his calm exterior.
Luciano doesn't love. He claims. He controls. He owns.
Yet the more he tries to crush my spirit, the more obsessed he becomes. His protection turns violent. His control turns suffocating. His eyes follow me like a promise and a threat all at once.
He says I am his weakness.
His mistake.
His curse.
Yet when enemies circle too close, it is Luciano who shields me with his body. When danger threatens, it is his voice that growls warnings, his hands that tighten possessively, his presence that promises violence to anyone who dares touch what is his.
Because once a mafia king decides you belong to him...
escape is no longer an option.
I am trapped in a golden cage built from power, luxury, and danger-but the greatest threat isn't the guns, the blood, or the men who would kill for him.
It's the way Luciano looks at me when he thinks I'm not watching.
The way his control fractures when I'm hurt.
The way his name feels dangerous on my lips.
Because loving a mafia king is not a fairy tale.
It's a war.
A war between survival and desire.
Between freedom and obsession.
Between the girl I used to be and the woman his darkness is shaping me into.
The deeper I fall into his world, the more I uncover secrets buried beneath his cruelty-betrayals that made him this way, scars that never healed, enemies that would destroy us both if given the chance. And as the line between captor and protector blurs, I'm forced to face a devastating truth:
The man who owns my body may soon own my heart.
But loving Luciano De Luca comes at a cost.
Because in his world, love is a liability.
And the moment he chooses me...
is the moment he paints a target on my back.
Will I escape the man who claims to own me?
Or will I surrender to the darkness that refuses to let me go?
In a world ruled by blood, power, and betrayal, one innocent woman will discover that the most dangerous thing of all...
is being loved by a ruthless mafia king.