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My sister wants Lycan's love, but I want him to die

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 8

Bellatrix Sinclair His features hardened ominously, an eerie silence between us as I refuse to answer. His eyes became a bottomless pit of destruction, controlled in its cataclysm as he examined the bruises. Gently brushing his knuckles against my cheek, the touch soft and delicate like a feather. "Who did this to you?" he asked again in a low voice. Pressing my lips tightly together, swallowing the names. I'm not a fool to think Lazarus cares about me, I've begrudged the notion of others saving me. Only I can save myself and I've handled the bullying thus far. "None of your business." I grit through my teeth in response, not meeting his gaze. "I'm giving you one more chance, tell me." he demands aggressively, "Tell me Bellatrix." I scoff, frustrated. "I don't need to tell you anything, it's none of your business." I knew my place with Lazarus, a human mate that he only saw as a slave to his desires. "The deal was to give you an heir, not to give you my secrets." I said, my voice assertive and bitter. Suddenly that mind-numbing sparks penetrate from his touch as he captures my jaw, maneuvering until we locked eyes. I hated the way his pupils expanded frighteningly, I detested that his presence affected me, I should be able to control this craving for him. "Are you forgetting that I own you." Lazarus glowered, "Your secrets, your past, your torment and misery are mine." He declares angrily. Biting my lower lip, the metallic taste flooding my tongue. His eyes flashed with enmity, glowing orbs that resembled the galaxy void of planets, it was all-too consuming, something I could lose myself in. Every muscle pulled taunt, restraining myself from giving more than I have. "Bellatrix." He calls like a haunted tune, "Tell me who dares touch what is mine." All the chains seemed to collapse, dread seeming into my bones. His fingers traced my bicep in a delicate trance that I fixated on the intensity of expression, fiery and sinful. "There is a group." I confess, "However this particular instance was caused by two people." He nods, listening attentively. "Give me names Ma Cherie." He coaxed. My jaw slackened; my tongue loosened by the compulsion. "Benedict Kohn and Kylie Lemore." He smiled sinisterly, deviousness twinkling in his gaze. "Splendid." I narrowed my eyes at him, "What are you planning?" "What makes you think I'm planning anything?" "Then why ask for the names?" I inquire suspiciously. Lazarus pushes himself off me, laughing. "All in due time, that is when you will know." I'm left staring at him, speechless and not in a good way. Lazarus confined me to his chambers for three days and he hadn't returned since our first encounter. Maids and servants frequent the space, cleaning and giving me three-course meals. I even sent them with a message that I wanted to return to the Academy. With all this time, I will be able to establish a plan to escape. However, I couldn't bring them to fruition if I didn't know the layout of the castle or how Lazarus's mind works. A knock resounded, creaking as the heavy doors slowly opened and Lazarus appeared. Glaring at his sudden appearance, "Are you here to fulfil our bargain? Because I will scratch your eyes out." I'm not having sex with him, there is no fucking way. He smirks, "Don't threaten me with a good time Bellatrix, I would rather enjoy seeing you in the throes of pleasure and how all that fire in your eyes quickly shifts to desperation." Rolling my eyes and ignoring the fire seeping into my veins with a familiar replay of last time. "Get out. I am enjoying my solitude, and you are distributing my peace." Waving my hand to shoo him away. "Oh no no. I beg to differ if you see my gift." Raising a brow, "What gift?" He tsks, shaking his head. "You have to come with me to find out." His seductive voice laced with depravity. Apart of me was more curious than deviant. Following his trail towards what appeared to be a throne room, an enormous hall with marbled tiles of gold and white. There was no one here as Lazarus guided me to the middle, a few steps away from his throne. "What now? I'm not doing a strip tease." I sneered. "Not now, but eventually." He claimed with complete confidence. His features were stone-cold, his voice booming. "Bring them in." Guards appear, dressed in black. Something rustled loudly behind them, my eyes widening at the two bodies they were dragging towards me. Benedict and Kylie. Lazarus gave a curt nod, the guards releasing them and pushing them onto their knees in front of me. They reeked of sweat, covered in grease. I watched their eyes bulge from their sockets, their faces paling at his presence. Benedict averted his attention to me, pleading with his bruised eyes and busted lip. Lifting his hands into a prayer motion, rubbing them vigorously. "I'm so sorry Bellatrix. Please, please forgive me." he begged, choking on his own saliva, "I'm so sorry for what I did. I deserve to be punished. Please forgive me, please forgive me." Kylie sobs at his side, mimicking his posture. "I'm sorry Bellatrix, I'm a bitch and I was just insecure and jealous. I'm so sorry. Please, please don't kill me." She wailed. I thought there would be a string of relief that they were caught, sympathy as they begged for my mercy. I felt nothing of the sorts, all I felt was this animalistic rage that buzzed under my skin, igniting the flames of my hatred. Lazarus grabs my hand and places a dagger onto my palm, the cool metal cultivated enough heat to sear my skin. Studying the intricate golden handle, the blade with hints of silver and unidentified crystals that would make it's strikes lethal. "This is the dagger of punishment." Lazarus announced. Benedict and Kylie's eyes flashed with fear, their pleas growing louder. Lazarus stared at them, composed and yet his voice was dripping with malice as he says, "Bellatrix Sinclair is the King's human mate. Had she died before the screening that would have been a tragedy and you would have gotten away with it. However, now that I'm aware you might have taken my chance at an heir, your actions are punishable by death." He bends slightly at the waist until I could feel the heat of his lips brushing against my ear, his voice eliciting goosebumps upon my skin. "Their fates lie in your hands." He states. "You can't kill me, I'm an Alpha's son." Benedict roars, rattling the silver cuffs. Lazarus's expression is flat, disinterested as he spoke. "Your father can be replaced a dozen times if I see fit. Your actions solidified your punishment, whether you are the son of an Alpha or not." His eyes darkened, "I don't like people who touch what is mine." The dagger felt heavy, it was the power of having their lives in my hand. Something that was sweet on my tongue, running smoothly down my throat. Lazarus wasn't merciful, he was a ruthless king. He found everyone replaceable, he found pleasure in inflicting pain upon others. Only now did I realize the magnitude of his darkness, seeped in poison and malevolence. And I found it addictive and so fucking hot. Maybe it was the high of the power, the vibrations under my skin that itched for more than just plunging a dagger into his heart. No, I didn't want a quick death, I wanted to feel the sting in my knuckles as they did. Flinging the dagger behind me, shaking my head as one corner of my mouth lifted into a vengeful smirk. "No. Death is too easy; I'm not giving you something quick. You are going to feel what I felt." The skin on my knuckles turned white as I clenched my fingers, forming a fist and smashing it into his face repeatedly. The sting shot up my arm, burning from the insides as I continued to punch him. Using my strength that was remarkable for even a human, watching the way blood seeped from his mouth and his eyes rolled back into his head. I'm not an amateur, I knew how to throw a punch and make it hurt. Turning my attention onto Kylie, who was shaking her head in horror. "No, please." She sobbed. "I know you value your pretty face, but it won't be pretty for long." I taunt, smashing my other fist into her face. I hear the delectable sound of bones crunching, her nose crooked and Kylie was already incoherent, losing consciousness. I continued, venting my rage onto them until my fists were bloody and bruised. They were wolves but they would heal fast, except those silver cuffs prevented that ability. "Please Bella." Benedict cries, "Please-" Knotting my fingers in his hair, yanking back until I felt strands ripping from his scalp. Staring into his eyes, letting him see the rage in mine. "Get fucking lost Benedict. I want you to live with that fact that I hold your life in my hands, that I spared you today, that I'm the reason you aren't six feet under. You should be kissing my feet with gratitude." I spat venomously. "Now get out of sight you pathetic piece of shit." I was high from the adrenaline and enraged that it violently shook my body. He nods like bobble-head. "Yes, thank you, thank you." He smiles brokenly. "Thank you for your gratitude." Kylie sniffles. I scowl, grabbing her hair and pushing her onto the ground. "It's not gratitude. I want you to live in fear that if I want, I can kill you anytime and anywhere. You won't even see it coming, it could be tomorrow or a week from now or even a year. I own you now." I seethed, my smile stretching menacingly as they scurred away. There was satisfaction in watching them wallow in that pit of agony and fear that will swallow them up. Revenge was divine, I don't know why people chose the path of righteousness when this was more effective and satisfying. Benedict, Kylie and the rest will die by my hands, but it won't be today, under the watchful eye of their King. "Why didn't you kill them?" Lazarus questioned, studying me with a peak of curiosity. "If I killed them then it would only affirm that I'm nothing more than a reproductive mate, that I only exist to birth your heir." I said, my voice acidic, "My life is mine, not yours." His mouth twisted in amusement, his eyes dancing in delight and admiration. "You are unlike any other human I've met." He praised. Rolling my eyes at his tactic. Lazarus clears his throat, taking his stance in front of me. His lips curve into a devilish grin as he lifted a brow, "I heard you made a request to go back to the Academy." "Yes," I answer, "I'm not sitting here all day and doing nothing. As you are aware, my skills are highly required in the weapons department and I'm the only human to be admitted there. Which means I have to return-" "No." he interjected sternly, lips thinning. My jaw tenses in annoyance, "Why not?" "Because I said so. End of decision." He finished. Glaring at him defiantly, "I'm going." He raises a challenging brow, arms secured behind him. "Is that so?" "Yes." He took predatorial steps towards me, but I wasn't backing down, rooted at the same spot and challenging him silently. Lazarus moved in a blur, all I heard was a clicking sound and something tightening around my neck. Lifting my fingers to massage the spot, only I'm greeted by metal. It was icy against my throat yet sizzling at my fingertips. His smile was demonic, showcasing his fangs. Pushing past him towards the tinted windows that showed my reflection. My jaw dropped to see that collared me, his name written in bold black letters. He looms over me, meeting my eyes in our reflection. "I own you Ma Cherie. You are to be at my side, you cannot go anywhere unless I deem it. There is nothing you can do but obey me."
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9.7
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From Bait to Queen: The Rejected Mate's Destiny
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."
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OWNED BY THE RUTHLESS MAFIA
7.3
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