On the day of her mate-bonding ceremony, 20-year-old Selene is kidnapped by a rival pack led by the cold and ruthless Alpha Lucien, who seeks revenge against her mate-to-be, alpha Dean, for a past betrayal. Selene's mother possessed a legendary sonic howl—a devastating power passed to Selene, though she was unaware of it. In captivity, Selene’s dormant werewolf powers awaken alongside the sonic howl, drawing Lucien’s interest as he plans to wield her as a weapon against Dean’s pack. As Selene grapples with her growing strength and conflicted feelings for Lucien, a rescue attempt forces her to choose between freedom and protecting her captor from a deadly coup within his own ranks. When a monstrous third-party threat emerges, Selene, Lucien, and Dean must unite to survive—culminating in a heart-pounding climax where Selene learns to control her power and redefine her destiny.
Lihat lebih banyakLucien’s POVShe hadn’t eaten—three days of Vira hauling trays back untouched, meat going cold, bread stale. “She’s starving herself,” Vira had growled last night, mossy eyes narrow, like it was my damn fault. Maybe it was—snatched her, locked her up, and now she’s pulling this stunt, digging under my skin worse than her damn “Sourface” crack after catching me with Lena. Those green eyes, slicing through me mid-thrust, wouldn’t quit—her scent—blood, flowers, wild—clinging like a burr I couldn’t shake. Revenge was supposed to be clean—use her, break Dean—but she’s a splinter, and I’m the fool itching to yank her out or shove her deeper. I’d had it—stormed the kitchen, grabbed a steak—rare, bloody, dripping on my hand—no plate, no fuss. She wants to play stubborn? Fine. I’d make her eat, shove it down her smart mouth if I had to. Upstairs, her door loomed—busted window frame still mocking me from Vira’s report—and I kicked it open, hinges groaning. There she was, slumped on the bed, l
Selene’s POVI stumbled back to my room, door slamming behind me, heart pounding like I’d sprinted through the damn woods, not just down a hall. Lucien—shirtless, sweaty, that blonde pinned under him—kept flashing in my skull, sharp as a claw to the gut. I leaned against the wall, breath ragged, muttering, “Get a grip, Selene, he’s a bastard,” but my brain wasn’t listening. It was stuck—his firm ass flexing as he moved, those six-pack ridges glinting with sweat, every muscle in his back rolling like he was built to break things—or bodies. I slid down, ass hitting the floor, and pressed my palms to my eyes, trying to scrub it out. Didn’t work. That image burned hotter—his scars crisscrossing that stupidly perfect chest, the way his arms flexed, pinning her like it was nothing. And then—damn it—my mind went lower, picturing what I didn’t see. His pants had been tight, zipper straining, and I couldn’t stop wondering—how big, how hard, what it’d look like free, thick and ready. My breat
Selene’s POVThree weeks in this damn mansion, and I’m ready to claw my way through the walls—or Lucien’s face, whichever’s closer. It’s all silk sheets and polished floors, chandeliers dripping light like they’re mocking me, but it’s still a prison. Big windows show me a forest I can’t touch, locked doors remind me I’m not a guest, and every meal—fancy steak, wine I’d kill for back home—tastes like ash when I’m eating it under guard. Vira’s my shadow most days, her mossy stink trailing me, silent but watching. Ragnar’s worse—lurking, smirking, like he’s waiting for me to snap so he can break me. I’d snap his neck first if I could. Lucien’s rules choke me harder than the shackles did: stay in the mansion, don’t touch the doors, don’t ask questions. “Obedience,” he’d said like I’m some mutt he can train. Screw that. I’ve been pacing this room—my “suite,” he calls it—wearing tracks in the rug, plotting ways out. Smash a window? Too high, and Vira’s ears would catch the glass before
Selene’s POVThe cave was a damp, stinking hole—cold stone digging into my back, shackles chewing my wrists raw. I’d lost track of time, maybe hours, maybe days, slumped against that rusted ring like some kicked dog. My braid was a tangled wreck, moonflowers long gone, and my silver gown was more blood and dirt than fabric now. My side throbbed where that wolf’s claws had ripped me open, a dull ache I couldn’t shake. I was a mess, yeah, but I wasn’t broken. Not yet. Footsteps crunched outside—boots, not paws. I straightened, wincing as the iron bit deeper, and squinted into the dim light. Lucien stepped in, that bastard with his black leathers and ice-blue eyes, looking too damn calm for someone who’d just snatched me from my life. Two wolves followed behind him—Ragnar, the wiry creep with a smirk I wanted to claw off, and Vira, the braided one who smelled like moss and Sex for some reason. “Rise and shine, princess,” Ragnar sneered, cracking his knuckles. “Time to move.” “Cal
The forest held its breath as Dean’s teeth grazed my neck, his bite a jagged claim that sent a shiver of disgust down my spine. The pack watched, their eyes glinting yellow under the full moon, waiting for the blood seal to bind me to him forever. I couldn’t do this—couldn’t be his, couldn’t let this night steal my soul. I know for a fact that I'll be miserable.But before I could pull away, the world exploded into chaos. A howl—sharp, guttural, and wrong—tore through the clearing. Not the pack’s ritual cry, but something feral, laced with menace. The trees erupted with shadows, dark shapes spilling from the undergrowth like ink. Wolves, but not ours. Their fur was a clumpy mess, eyes glowing red like some nightmare fuel, and their growls screamed ‘you’re toast.’ My pack—Ironclaw—stood there like idiots for half a second before all hell broke loose with yelling and bones cracking into their wolf forms.“Ambush!” Old Galen’s creaky voice hacked over the noise, his twisted fingers
The Ironclaw Pack’s ceremonial clearing was alive with this antsy buzz, everyone itching for something big. The full moon hung up there like a fat, nosy spotlight, catching all these werewolves still human-shaped, chatting and milling around. Their eyes had this yellow flicker—creepy little hints of the monsters they’d turn into later. Tonight’s the night I’m supposed to tie myself to Alpha Dean, big shot of these woods. Lucky me, huh. Yeah, right. I stand at the center of the clearing, the silver threaded gown clinging to my skin like a second pelt, itchy and restrictive. My long dark hair braided with moonflowers, a tradition I’d mocked earlier to my best friend, Mira, who rolled her eyes and told me to suck it up. “You look like a goddess” she’d said. “Act like one.” Easy for her to say- she wasn’t the one about to pledge her life to a man who treated her like a prized trophy.Dean stands across from me, tall and imposing in his ceremonial robes, his golden hair standing out am
The Ironclaw Pack’s ceremonial clearing was alive with this antsy buzz, everyone itching for something big. The full moon hung up there like a fat, nosy spotlight, catching all these werewolves still human-shaped, chatting and milling around. Their eyes had this yellow flicker—creepy little hints of the monsters they’d turn into later. Tonight’s the night I’m supposed to tie myself to Alpha Dean, big shot of these woods. Lucky me, huh. Yeah, right. I stand at the center of the clearing, the silver threaded gown clinging to my skin like a second pelt, itchy and restrictive. My long dark hair braided with moonflowers, a tradition I’d mocked earlier to my best friend, Mira, who rolled her eyes and told me to suck it up. “You look like a goddess” she’d said. “Act like one.” Easy for her to say- she wasn’t the one about to pledge her life to a man who treated her like a prized trophy.Dean stands across from me, tall and imposing in his ceremonial robes, his golden hair standing out am...
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