The Lycan King's Hideous Mage
*** This story has steamy scenes that are not suitable for minors.***
Serra Lore's life is supposed to be ideal and perfect. She graduated top of the class in the Mage Academy. She married the handsome Gideon Dunkerson, the young Lycan King. And now, she is his Luna.
However, on their first wedding anniversary, everything turned upside down. She discovered that her in-laws were just using her. Her husband is cheating on her with a beautiful woman. To make matters worse, she sacrificed her almost passable face and become hideous, in order to protect everyone in the Kingdom.
Now that her daydream has turned into a nightmare, how will she regain the confidence she once had? And to get much needed revenge against her husband?
Gideon Dunkerson thought that his life was perfect. He is the Lycan King-powerful, rich and handsome. The only flaw in his life is that, his Luna does not only look ordinary, but also comes from an ordinary family. Her only saving grace is her excellent magic skills that catapulted her to gain the prestige to become his Luna.
However, he did not expect that his respect for her magic, will turn into lust, and then becomes love. He tried to stop himself from completely falling in love with her, but all was in vain. All his plans to hurt her only cause him a series of pain. He is about to confess his love for her when tragedy struck. She chooses to protect everyone and vanishes from his life.
Her disappearance spirals him into depression and grief, and soon, he is traveling all around the world to search for his Lost Luna. However, when a new competition is held to find a new Luna, Serra reappears. And this time, he vows not to let go of her hand ever again, even if, every time she looks at him, it is with distaste and hatred.
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Chapter 12
-- Back To Serra’s POV --
With Marinella around, I’m careful about using my magic to fake the blush on my cheeks. I also make sure that I don’t use too much glamour or else, she will notice the constant use of my magic even when I am unconscious.
I tiptoe towards Gideon while my eyes are still closed. Earlier, I saw the delight in the way he looks at me, as if he is living in his past. And in his imagined past, he is not an asshole-cheating-jerk-of-a-husband.
Gideon presses forward, and I place my palm against his chest. His body is still rock-hard, nice to look at, but never good at cuddling. It’s all fine, though. For me, cuddles are never his utility. Besides, even before, he had never been the one to cuddle. After our copulation, he will never snuggle next to me. He would even evade my touch and so I learned not to pester him with it.
“Gideon...” I whisper.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks.
I nod faintly. “Yes,” I respond. “Please...”
I feel him shudder under my palm. He leans into me and presses his lips to mine. And I... I forget to breathe for a while. His lips are soft and warm. It is a familiar sensation that almost makes me lose myself.
But then, reality crashes down on me and I remember all the lies and betrayals that shattered our marriage. All the anger rushes to my head. I want to push him away. I want to violently lash at him, to give him back all the hurt I felt because of loving him. And yet, the rationality still wins, so I stiffen instead.
Sensing it, Gideon runs his tongue on my lips, tasting me as his hands rise to cup my face. He tries to deepen the kiss, parting my lips so we can be more intimate, but I stay rigid. I thought about this part of my revenge before. I told myself that I will enjoy myself, that I will take and take from him, but it seems like I will need more time to get used to this, or else I will lose sight of my goal.
Suddenly, he breaks the kiss. “Serra,” he begs, as if breathing into me. “Open your mouth. Let me kiss you deeper.”
I open my eyes and peer through my lashes, and I still say, “Okay.”
I reach for the back of his head and lean closer. I open my mouth and let him in. His tongue, warm and insistent, plunges into the recesses of my mouth, awakening a dormant desire. He is still a great kisser, that when I thought I lost desire for another person, here it is again. The desire is still present, pooling in my belly as I remember all the nights we shared. I guess those nights are the only good times I shared with him.
His hands move to my hair, fingers threading through its strands, as he pulls me closer to his body, squeezing me into him as if he wants to merge his body to mine, I pull back and notice that his eyes are still focused on my lips.
“Gideon, a little gentler...”
The instant I am done speaking, he pulls me into him again, like a man parched. His breaths merge with mine as he continues to explore the terrain of my mouth, licking and probing, sending jolts of pleasure radiating from my lips down to my toes.
Strangely though, as intense as the sensation may be, it does not drown the bitterness. This is Gideon. The man who lied and betrayed our vows. The man who broke my heart into a million pieces. I can’t deny that I’m torn. My injured heart screams for me to push him away, my brain tells me to control our lovemaking so I will have the upper-hand, and my body craves more of his touch.
It’s a perilous dance that I am engaging in, and it’s taking my all to keep up. The pain of our past and the sweet desire of the present are clashing, creating a noisy mix of raw emotions that’s too loud to ignore.
“Oh god, Serra...”
I pull back and I realize what I have done. I have jumped into him, my legs around his hips, his hands under my butt as he carries my weight.
I exhale softly, and my fingers trace the outline of his jaw. “You don’t like this?” I ask, and I realize that my voice is coming in short gasps.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he simply holds me close, as if fearing that I’d escape if his grip slackens even the slightest. His lips brush against mine once more, the heat from his breath threatening to drive me crazy — with lust, nothing more.
“Don’t move...” he whispers, his voice trembling the same as mine, and I realize that he is aching for my touch as much as I lust after him. “Or I might lose it.”
His eyes bore into mine, full of raw passion and desire. But there’s also sorrow lurking in the depths of those dark pools. Is it guilt over his past actions? Regret over the pain he has caused me? Or is it simply the fear of losing his useful mage again?
“Are you okay?” I ask, my arms tightening around his neck.
He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pulls me closer until our bodies are pressed together. The heat from his skin seeps through my clothes, igniting a fire within me that I thought was long extinguished.
“Please, Serra,” he implores, his voice low and husky. “Can I make love to you again?”
“Yes,” I whisper before capturing his lips once again.
While I am in his arms, he strides towards his bed with ease, never breaking the intense kiss between us. I fall back onto the soft, plush mattress as I settle into the bed, watching him as he takes his clothes off.
Gideon is still a masterpiece, a Lycan king outside. Every inch of his muscular torso exudes raw strength. His skin, kissed by the sun, is sweat-sheened. He also has a perfect face, and he only looked better during the time we were separated. He is a man so beautiful that the naive me never even thought that he was just a beautiful mask. And this perfect facade is the reason an ordinary mage like me aspired to become his wife, not knowing that I will be trapped in pain instead.
His unrestrained gaze meets mine and something primal flashes within them. He crawls onto the bed, hovering above me, his hot breath fanning my face as he lowers himself down onto me. His lips devour mine in a kiss that sears through my veins like liquid fire, making me gasp out at the intensity.
“Serra,” he murmurs against my skin, his fingers tracing the contour of my face, making me blush furiously.
I reach out, running my fingers through his dark hair, pulling him down for another of his searing kisses. His hands roam over my body, teasingly slow, unleashing a tsunami of sensations that leaves me moaning into his mouth.
“This time is ours,” he whispers.
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8.4
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Reborn five years earlier, Seraphina vows: Never again. No more submissions. No more suffering his cruelty. This time, she'll rewrite her destiny - then she meets Kairos.
The Untamed Alpha King who loathes the mate bond after his own betrayal. Her second-chance mate - a bond that will kill her if she rejects it.
Now, caught between Kairos' relentless pursuit and Darius' desperate attempts to reclaim her, Seraphina faces an impossible choice:
Drown the world in vengeance... or risk her shattered heart on the mate who could either heal her scars or destroy her completely?
8.0
Scarlett Hayes thought marrying James Whitmore would finally make her family see her as more than a burden.
Instead, it destroyed her life.
Framed for crimes she didn't commit, betrayed by the people she trusted most, and sentenced to prison while pregnant, Scarlett lost everything in a single night.
Then came the cruelest blow of all.
After giving birth in chains, she was told her baby had died.
The people responsible believed she would spend the rest of her life rotting behind bars.
They were wrong.
Five years later, Scarlett returns.
No longer the discarded daughter of the Hayes family. No longer the broken woman they left behind.
Now she is Commander Scarlett Hayes-a decorated war hero, the unseen force behind a global intelligence empire, and a woman powerful enough to make governments tremble.
She comes back for one reason only: revenge.
Her ex-husband, the stepsister who stole her life, and the family who buried her alive are about to learn exactly what happens when a woman with nothing left to lose takes back everything they stole.
But as Scarlett tears through the secrets of her past, one truth threatens to change everything-
the child she mourned for years may not be dead.
And the mysterious man connected to the night that changed her life has been watching from the shadows all along.
7.2
I woke up in a lavish bedroom, only to find a man built like a god of war chained to my wall, glaring at me with pure, unadulterated hatred.
A glowing apparition appeared and told me I had died in a car crash and transmigrated into the body of Elara, a tyrant Luna. Worse, the chained man was Ryker, one of my six fated mates whom the original Elara had brutally tortured.
Because of her sadistic crimes-starving them, exiling them, and sending two of them on a suicide mission-my affinity with them was at negative five hundred. The apparition delivered my terrifying death sentence.
"In three days, at the Marking Ceremony, you will be killed by your six mates."
No matter what I did-freeing Ryker, sharing my food, or lifting their brother's exile-they viewed every act of kindness as a sick, twisted trap. They were just waiting for the punchline to my cruel joke, ready to expose me and end my life.
I was just a librarian who organized book clubs and paid my taxes. Why did the Goddess throw me into this doomed vessel to pay for a psychopath's blood debts? How was I supposed to survive when the men destined to love me were actively plotting to rip my throat out?
Cornered by their righteous fury, I realized playing defense wouldn't work. I grabbed a dagger, sliced my own palm over the ceremonial stone, and swore a blood oath to bring their missing brothers home-or initiate a soul-shattering Rejection Ceremony myself.
7.9
Estrella Ward gave five years of her life to her husband, draining her trust fund to save him from bankruptcy and raising his son as her own.
But one night, she woke up in a freezing hotel room, drugged, with a stranger's bite marks on her skin.
Her husband burst through the door with cameras, his vicious family, and her ten-year-old stepson, publicly framing her as a cheating whore.
The horrifying truth soon surfaced: her husband had drugged her himself, selling her body to his Wall Street boss to secure a senior partnership.
Estrella fought back with hidden security footage, blackmailing him into submission after discovering she was pregnant with his boss's child.
But fate dealt a cruel blow. She was diagnosed with aggressive, terminal breast cancer.
She refused to abort the baby to keep her leverage, but the cancer spread too fast.
She died alone in a cold hospital room, her vengeance unfinished, while her husband and his cruel family celebrated.
They thought they had successfully buried her and her secrets forever, escaping unpunished for destroying her life.
But when she gasped for air and opened her eyes again, she wasn't in a cold grave.
She was in a sterile hospital bed, looking at the perfectly manicured hands of Brooklyn Thompson—the notorious, empty-headed socialite everyone despised.
Estrella's soul had survived the abyss.
"You're going to pay for every drop of blood."
She clenched her new fists, the fire of her vengeance burning brighter than ever.
7.4
Bridget, a ruthless twenty-first-century Wall Street analyst, woke up violently coughing up murky lake water in a decaying 1978 slum.
She quickly realized she was trapped in the body of a naive, marginalized teenager who had just committed suicide over a boy's cruel rejection.
The original girl had been mercilessly bullied by a fake rich kid named Kurtis and his cruel followers. They had publicly read her desperate love letters out loud, mocking her as a toad trying to eat swan meat, and simply watched as she threw herself into the freezing water. Now, her impoverished mother was left weeping by the bed, facing catastrophic debt and total social ruin in their small town. Everyone expected the surviving girl to wake up begging and crying for the boy who humiliated her.
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"I already died in that lake. That stupid girl is never coming back."
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Locking away the dead girl's weak emotions, Bridget forced her freezing, exhausted body out of the clinic bed. She set a hard three-month deadline to drag this family out of tier-one poverty. But first, she was marching straight to the volunteer camp to liquidate those liabilities and completely destroy the people who drove this body to death.
9.7
Gemma expected the tearing agony of the bullet wound that had just ended her life.
Instead, her trembling fingers met the cool, smooth friction of heavy silk.
She stared into the mirror. Her face was flawless, completely devoid of the jagged scar that had marred her cheek for the last five years.
It was exactly ten years ago. The day of her engagement party to the ruthless billionaire, Brion Hubbard.
In her past life, her "best friend" Katelyn convinced her to run away with a scheming scumbag.
Katelyn claimed Brion was a heartless tyrant who would ruin her. Gemma had foolishly believed those fake tears.
That choice led to her family's bankruptcy, her brutal disfigurement, and ultimately, a fatal bomb explosion.
The only person who tried to save her was Brion, his blood-soaked body shielding hers from the blast.
She even realized too late that the strawberry cream cakes she always made for him were full of dairy.
He wasn't leaving to cheat on her. He was locking himself in a medical bay, fighting fatal allergic shock, just to accept a tiny scrap of her affection.
Gemma had been so incredibly blind. Why did she trust the venomous snakes who destroyed her, while hating the man who died for her?
Hearing Katelyn frantically knocking on the dressing room door, urging her to run away again, a towering hatred surged through Gemma's veins.
This time, she wasn't going to run.
She was going to expose the traitors, take back her family's wealth, and claim the tyrant for herself.