Novels by M.J Khalil

As I lay in the dimly lit room, my thoughts drifted back to the night of the Marking ritual with Octavia. The memory flooded my mind, vivid and intense, like a scene from a dream I couldn't quite shake. She had been radiant, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the trees, her eyes alight with an inner fire that seemed to consume everything in its path. In that moment, she had been the epitome of beauty, a vision that stole the breath from my lungs and left me reeling in her wake. And yet, it wasn't just her physical appearance that had captivated me—it was something deeper, something primal and instinctual that defied explanation. From the moment I laid eyes on her, there had been an undeniable pull, a magnetic force that drew me to her like a moth to a flame. I had tried to resist it, to deny the feelings that surged within me, but in the end, it was futile. The bond between us was stronger than any force in the universe, an unbreakable tether that bound our souls

He bit me. The words echo in my head, over and over again. I stumble from the bed, the sheets twisting around my bare legs. The Mark burns against my skin, flaring with each fluttering beat of my heart. I hadn’t noticed the pain before. I was too distracted. Too focused on Ezra than anything else. But now? Now I feel it all. He bit me. He bit me. He bit me. Gasping, I stumble toward the door, needing to get out of there. To get to the forest and make sure I still had…me. How did this even work? Did the poison spread slowly? Did it kill my wolf right away? Would I be just as cursed as the Wyres…forever? Had that been his plan all along? It can’t be. He needs me alive and not all Shifters make it through the transformation. It’s excruciatingly painful, and only the strong survive. Only the strongest make it. I know what happens when a Shifter is bitten—my parents made sure I knew that much about our enemies. They used to tell me about it whenever I misbehaved, warning me that I

With wolf’s bane coursing through my veins, I stumble from my room and into the hallway, my vision swimming and my muscles aching with every step. The poison burns like fire, consuming me from the inside out, and yet I press on, driven by a singular purpose. I needed to get away from her. Something was happening—something I knew had nothing to do with the Mark. My vision blackens at the edges, my legs weakening as I lean heavily against the door. Dominic is there, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of my agony. As if he had been waiting for me, his hand reaches out to catch me before I can fall, his touch a lifeline in the darkness that threatens to engulf me. Without a word, he guides me down to the basement, the cool stone walls closing in around us like a protective cocoon. With every step I take, the pain of the wolf’s bane coursing through my veins intensifies, a relentless torment that threatens to overwhelm me. Each breath is a struggle, each heartbeat a reminder of

“The Mark symbolizes the permanent reminder of this commitment and their union with the Moon Goddess’s blessing.” The elder turns to Ezra, giving him a slight nod. “You may now Mark your mate.” I bite back a scream as Ezra’s fingers dig into my waist. He yanks me toward him, going for my shoulder. Pain sears through me when his canines pierce my skin, warmth blooming from the wound. I can feel my blood trickle down my arm, staining the fabric of my dress. His lips burn into my shoulder, so violent, so different from the kiss that it causes me to choke on my fear. When he pulls away, his mouth is smeared with my blood, streaking down his chin and turning the white of his shirt as bloody as my gown. Something like surprise crosses his eyes as he wipes his mouth. The Wyres go deadly silent. Behind him, Dominic’s eyes go wide, something like pain flickering beneath the gold of his irises. No one says a word. Ezra whips toward the Wyres, a growl in his throat. It’s a warning, but I

I’m half tempted to rip this dress off and take my chances with the wild forest that surrounds this god-forsaken town. But the Alpha’s warning still rings in my ears, slicing up and down my spine until my stomach lurches in protest. I might actually be sick in this dress. Which might not be a bad idea. Knowing Ezra, however, a ruined dress wouldn’t stop him from forcing me down that aisle. “Stop moving,” Madalynn growls, pins tucked between her teeth. It’s the morning of the wedding and she’s finishing up the last touches of the dress. When she’d told me she’d actually sewn it herself, I was both impressed and wary. It’s no Vivienne Westwood, but it isn’t terrible, either. White leaves and vines creep up from my waist, swirling over my breasts to the edges of my shoulders. My chest is bare, the dress only just hanging on by the swooping, floor-length bell sleeves and low-cut back. The flowers sprout from the top of my thigh into airy gauze, revealing just a hint of my skin beneath.

The night drags on, the darkness of my chambers enveloping me like a suffocating embrace. Above, Octavia's restless movements echo through the floorboards, each sound a reminder of the forbidden desire that rages within me. I lie there, my senses attuned to every rustle of sheets, every soft sigh that escapes her lips. Each sound ignites a fire within me, a hunger that burns with an intensity I can no longer deny. I know I shouldn't want her. Octavia belongs to another, my prince, my best friend. To even entertain such thoughts is a betrayal of the highest order. But the heart knows no allegiance, and mine is torn between loyalty and longing. It has been a constant struggle, keeping Octavia at arm's length, denying the yearning that simmers beneath the surface. But tonight, as she sleeps just a floor above me, the temptation is too great to resist.I close my eyes, trying to block out the images that threaten to consume me. But try as I might, I cannot silence the voice that whisper