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105. The Ghosts of Thornhall
Last Updated:
2025-01-28 21:18:26
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Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 106. A Throne, A Flame, and A Hunter
[ELARA]Thornhall has become a theater, and Magnus its star performer. To the lords who visit every month for his feasts, he’s the epitome of charm—a prince who smiles easily, dances with grace, and entertains his guests with music and laughter. It’s a clever mask, one I can’t decide if he wears for them or for himself.But when the wine runs dry, and the music fades to nothing, the whispers creep in again. War brews in Caelondor, the unrest growing louder with every passing week. The King’s cruelty has spilled past the castle walls, stoking rebellion among both peasants and nobles. And now, with Magnus in exile, his name has become a rallying cry.He must have been named heir. What else could ignite this fire? The King has no other children. The throne will fall to Magnus, whether he wants it or not.These thoughts circle endlessly, the rumors tightening around us like a noose. And though Magnus has yet to speak a single word of it to me, I know what he’s doing. The quiet conversatio
Last Updated : 2025-01-28Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 107. The Fiend and the Exiled
[ELARA]The vampire arrives at dusk. And I’m the one sent down to the courtyard to welcome him. Yes, that’s right. A few hours ago, Alistair came to me and informed me that it would be my duty to do that. When I asked if Magnus would be present too, he just shrugged—something I’ve never seen him do. Another meeting with a lord then, one of scheming and treachery. Or maybe he's just too afraid to get close. He doesn't trust himself—his control. Creed always wins, always takes over. That's the kind of wolf he is—arrogant, dominant, deadly. And Lila? She's a temptress, built to break him apart piece by piece, unraveling him until he's raw. She'll make sure Creed drives Magnus to the edge of his mind, until the Burn is unbearable. If we so much as brush against each other... it'll end in fucking disaster. The kind where sweat slicks bare skin, bodies tangled, mouths bruising—hot, messy, inevitable.And my skin itches to be touched. I can barely hold myself back from caressing my arms. T
Last Updated : 2025-03-06Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 108. Unravel Me
[ELARA]I tug at the loose pearl string around my neck, playing with a single pearl absentmindedly between my fingers as Lady Brook talks. She’s lounging on the chaise, feasting on a painted bowl of black grapes. I think she might be speaking about tomorrow’s gathering, or of the newest fashion in Qaiven, or of the honey wine gifted by Lord Kilmartin. Her words don’t reach me because I already have a lot on my mind. A longing sigh leaves my lip as I adjust the soft feather pillow under my head and roll over on the bed. My mother’s bright eyes stare back at me from the portrait. They’re so green, so beautiful. Her smile is gentle, as if telling me that everything will be alright. And that I will feel happy again. Magnus only saw the portrait once, maybe only for a couple of seconds, and yet he was able to replicate it so well. In fact, he has done more justice to her features than the original painter from my pack. Now it is framed and hung on the painted stone wall in my chamber. I
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[ELARA]On any other night, I would have been cautious, wary of the vampire’s seductive pull, the way he ensnares his prey, just as mentioned in the passage. But tonight, the Burn eclipses reason, and every brush of Valen’s touch sets me alight, leaving me aching, craving.And he looks prepared to give me all I demand and more. Valen doesn’t need further assurance. His lips drag slowly from the curve of my shoulder, up my neck, to finally halt at my earlobe, nibbling it gently. My eyes roll to the back of my head as the sensation consumes me completely. I’m gasping, my breath shaky as I struggle to find something to do with my own hands, while his left arm snakes around the front of my waist, pressing my back against his hard body. The sound of his breath in my ear is maddening. It’s fast, irregular. A lot more intense than what breathing should sound like. He pauses from my ear, returning to press kisses to my shoulder only to push the sleeve of my shift down my arm with his teeth.
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[ELARA]Valen moves easily, peeling away the layers of his clothing until he is left in little more than a linen shirt, loose at the collar, and dark trousers that sit low on his hips. The candlelight casts long shadows over the ridges of his body, tracing over sharp angles and defined muscle, a reminder of what he is—what he can do—something I only had a glimpse of minutes ago. I watch, trying not to. Trying not to compare. And yet, I cannot stop myself from thinking of another man in another bed.Back in Caelondor, when Magnus cared, our chambers had been connected by a hidden passageway. I would slip through in the dead of night, and he would let me in without a word. He would wait for me to come. It was the place where I felt most safe. I would curl into the warmth of him, listening to his steady breaths. In those moments, I could almost pretend that our marriage was more than duty.I remember the way he would shed his royal armor piece by piece, leaving himself bare in ways he n
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The wind whispers through the open window, carrying a faint scent of jasmine that mingles with the pounding of my heart. “Alina can’t marry him, Alpha. She’s weak,” my father begins, his trembling voice resounding in the pack’s courtroom. Beta Collis smirks at him from where he stands beside Alpha Zander before he comments, “A weakling for a weakling. What can be a better match for the twisted Prince of Caelondor?” I grit my teeth, suppressing a curse. Beta Collis has never been kind towards my family but his remark was unnecessary. "Alpha Zander," my father continues, ignoring his fellow Beta's words. His shoulders are slumped and he looks older than his years. "The pack healer says she might not live long." My stepmother stifles a sob as she clutches the sides of her robe. A rush of whispers arise from the pack members bearing witness to this meeting. I nervously glance around and hear people talk sympathetically about my stepsister, Alina. It's unfortunate what happene
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[MAGNUS]I recline in the bathtub, the warmth of the water enveloping me as the palace servants go about their tasks. Steam swirls in the opulent chamber, the scent of chamomile lingering in the air and my mind wanders through the labyrinth of lies spun by my detested uncle, the king.As the palace servants meticulously wash me, their eyes averted, I stare at my own half-naked reflection in the mirror. I'm not disabled; it's a fabrication concocted by my uncle's twisted mind, fueled by his hatred and fear. The king seeks to undermine me, to strip away any sense of power or influence I might possess. He's afraid of what I could do to him. But it's time to reclaim my power, turn the tables on my enemies, and catch them off guard.Alistair, my loyal beta werewolf, stands guard outside the chamber, a silent guardian of my secrets.As I rise from the bathtub, the servants hastily rush to cover my body with linen. Alistair makes his way toward me before his eyes follow a servant as she walk
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[ELARA]Outside my chambers, I can hear the loud beating of drums and the occasional whistle of a flute. I’ve seen over half a dozen human bards and female dryads that have been invited over to entertain the royal company. When I scurry over to take a look from the window, I can see what seems like half the continent gathered in the courtyard of Mistral Hollow’s packhouse. Over the last few days, I’ve seen my father glued to Alpha Zander’s side. He has been making sure that the wedding ceremony is a grand success—leaving no stone unturned to appeal to the King of Caelondor.But the previous morning, a raven arrived from the royal palace, informing us the King would be absent from the ceremony. He’s at war with the kingdom of Wyvern, and has been for several weeks now. The disappointment on my father’s face upon hearing the news was contagious. And moreover, the invitations can not be withdrawn. Nobody seems to care about the Prince. Even though he is the most important person in the
Last Updated : 2023-09-04
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Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 110. Falling Into The Burn
[ELARA]Valen moves easily, peeling away the layers of his clothing until he is left in little more than a linen shirt, loose at the collar, and dark trousers that sit low on his hips. The candlelight casts long shadows over the ridges of his body, tracing over sharp angles and defined muscle, a reminder of what he is—what he can do—something I only had a glimpse of minutes ago. I watch, trying not to. Trying not to compare. And yet, I cannot stop myself from thinking of another man in another bed.Back in Caelondor, when Magnus cared, our chambers had been connected by a hidden passageway. I would slip through in the dead of night, and he would let me in without a word. He would wait for me to come. It was the place where I felt most safe. I would curl into the warmth of him, listening to his steady breaths. In those moments, I could almost pretend that our marriage was more than duty.I remember the way he would shed his royal armor piece by piece, leaving himself bare in ways he n
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 109. The Taste of Restraint
[ELARA]On any other night, I would have been cautious, wary of the vampire’s seductive pull, the way he ensnares his prey, just as mentioned in the passage. But tonight, the Burn eclipses reason, and every brush of Valen’s touch sets me alight, leaving me aching, craving.And he looks prepared to give me all I demand and more. Valen doesn’t need further assurance. His lips drag slowly from the curve of my shoulder, up my neck, to finally halt at my earlobe, nibbling it gently. My eyes roll to the back of my head as the sensation consumes me completely. I’m gasping, my breath shaky as I struggle to find something to do with my own hands, while his left arm snakes around the front of my waist, pressing my back against his hard body. The sound of his breath in my ear is maddening. It’s fast, irregular. A lot more intense than what breathing should sound like. He pauses from my ear, returning to press kisses to my shoulder only to push the sleeve of my shift down my arm with his teeth.
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 108. Unravel Me
[ELARA]I tug at the loose pearl string around my neck, playing with a single pearl absentmindedly between my fingers as Lady Brook talks. She’s lounging on the chaise, feasting on a painted bowl of black grapes. I think she might be speaking about tomorrow’s gathering, or of the newest fashion in Qaiven, or of the honey wine gifted by Lord Kilmartin. Her words don’t reach me because I already have a lot on my mind. A longing sigh leaves my lip as I adjust the soft feather pillow under my head and roll over on the bed. My mother’s bright eyes stare back at me from the portrait. They’re so green, so beautiful. Her smile is gentle, as if telling me that everything will be alright. And that I will feel happy again. Magnus only saw the portrait once, maybe only for a couple of seconds, and yet he was able to replicate it so well. In fact, he has done more justice to her features than the original painter from my pack. Now it is framed and hung on the painted stone wall in my chamber. I
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 107. The Fiend and the Exiled
[ELARA]The vampire arrives at dusk. And I’m the one sent down to the courtyard to welcome him. Yes, that’s right. A few hours ago, Alistair came to me and informed me that it would be my duty to do that. When I asked if Magnus would be present too, he just shrugged—something I’ve never seen him do. Another meeting with a lord then, one of scheming and treachery. Or maybe he's just too afraid to get close. He doesn't trust himself—his control. Creed always wins, always takes over. That's the kind of wolf he is—arrogant, dominant, deadly. And Lila? She's a temptress, built to break him apart piece by piece, unraveling him until he's raw. She'll make sure Creed drives Magnus to the edge of his mind, until the Burn is unbearable. If we so much as brush against each other... it'll end in fucking disaster. The kind where sweat slicks bare skin, bodies tangled, mouths bruising—hot, messy, inevitable.And my skin itches to be touched. I can barely hold myself back from caressing my arms. T
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 106. A Throne, A Flame, and A Hunter
[ELARA]Thornhall has become a theater, and Magnus its star performer. To the lords who visit every month for his feasts, he’s the epitome of charm—a prince who smiles easily, dances with grace, and entertains his guests with music and laughter. It’s a clever mask, one I can’t decide if he wears for them or for himself.But when the wine runs dry, and the music fades to nothing, the whispers creep in again. War brews in Caelondor, the unrest growing louder with every passing week. The King’s cruelty has spilled past the castle walls, stoking rebellion among both peasants and nobles. And now, with Magnus in exile, his name has become a rallying cry.He must have been named heir. What else could ignite this fire? The King has no other children. The throne will fall to Magnus, whether he wants it or not.These thoughts circle endlessly, the rumors tightening around us like a noose. And though Magnus has yet to speak a single word of it to me, I know what he’s doing. The quiet conversatio
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 105. The Ghosts of Thornhall
[ELARA]The castle of Thornhall never gets warm or less... quiet. No fire, no laughter, no passing seasons can melt the chill that creeps through its blackened stone halls. Outside, the winds howl and the trees shed their leaves, but inside, it remains an unchanging tomb, where the air feels too still, too aware.The blue roses that snake their way up the jagged walls bloom and wither in cycles, but their petals never touch the ground. They vanish midair, leaving nothing behind but the faint, cloying scent of decay. It’s a scent that lingers, even when there are no roses in sight.But that’s not the most sinister thing about this place. The true menace of Thornhall reveals itself in the night. That’s when the walls begin their unholy symphony, whispering in a language that is neither human nor beast. Serpentine—hisses and sighs that slither through the shadows. Clarice, the steward’s wife, swears they’re the voices of the dead, trapped here since their final, brutal breaths.And ther
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 104. The Beast Within
[RUELLE]The coldness of the water is the first thing I feel, a biting chill that seeps into my bones, numbing every part of me. The weight of it presses down, making it impossible to tell which way is up. My limbs thrash, but the water drags me down, its icy grip tightening around my chest. For a long time, it’s just the water—an endless, suffocating struggle against the darkness.Then, a force stirs within me. Kara. My wolf. Her spirit rises, lending me the strength I desperately need. With her urging, I push through the heavy currents, my lungs burning as I break the surface.Gasping for air, I blink rapidly, my eyes stinging with salt. The world is chaos. Lightning cracks across the sky, illuminating the tumultuous waves, and the ship I was on—once a vessel of hope—tilts precariously, the Cursed Gulf hungrily pulling it under. The air vibrates with thunder, each clap shaking the very water around me.I struggle to stay afloat, coughing and spluttering, trying to make sense of the
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 103. Waves of Fate
[RUELLE]Perhaps Alec somehow tenses the fear in me, because one moment he’s nowhere to be seen, and the next he’s in front of me, shielding me from them. They’re Uncle Eldric’s men. About a dozen or so. And they don’t seem interested in me, or anyone. They’re just taking passage to the next harbour, clambering onto the deck like it is their birthright. The captain of the ship curses under his breath, not pleased to be hosting this uninvited unit who won’t pay a fare, but treat his ship as their own. And yet, my heart refuses to rest. It paces furiously, and I believe it will continue to do so until they’ve gotten off the ship. Alec turns to face me, his tall stature hiding the afternoon sun so it can’t hurt my eyes. “Why do you look so worried?” he asks softly. “They’re just the King’s soldiers. They mean no harm to you.”But even as those words leave his lips, there’s an air of uncertainty to them. He seems to be thinking: why would she be sweating her senses out if they meant no
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 102. The Wolf's Instinct
[RUELLE]My lips release a gasp, my cheeks burning as if set on fire. Share a hammock with a stranger? A man? He lets out a laugh then only to cut himself short. His face turns serious. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he pauses, looking away. “I was only jesting.”If we were back in the palace, I’d have laughed and joined in the fun. But no—any sense of joy has abandoned me. I’m in survival mode. He may have promised to protect me, but what reason does he have to keep his word? His intentions could sway any minute, even though he may be truly genuine right now. I have never been gullible, but I certainly do have my feet firmly planted on this dusty floor, within his chamber. I’m a fool, I think. Before I know it, I’m brushing past his shoulder, running to the wide wooden plank that serves as a door. But his hand is quicker, gripping my wrist like a vice. I turn to glance at his face, my jaw clenching, partly in fear and partly in anger for stopping me. “Let me go.”He loosens his g
