LOGINWhen Rielle Morven is betrayed by her boyfriend and sold at an illegal werewolf auction to pay off his debts, she expects her life is over. But the male who buys her for five million dollars isn't a werewolf alpha... he's something far more dangerous. Caspian Valdyr is a Lycan King with a reputation for violence and a hunger for control. He doesn't just want Rielle's body, he wants to claim her soul through an unbreakable mate bond that will tie them together forever. But Rielle carries a secret in her blood that makes her worth more than gold to the wrong people. When a fifty-million-dollar bounty is placed on her head, Caspian must decide: return her to the monsters who want to breed her like livestock, or go to war to keep what he's claimed as his. In a world where power is everything and mercy is weakness, Rielle discovers that being owned by a beast might be her only path to freedom. But freedom comes with a price and Caspian's claiming bite will mark her as his for eternity. One auction. One bite. One bond that will either save them both or destroy everything. A Kingdom to be ruled. An Obsidian Throne. A Hybrid Heir. Bought By The Beast is a fast-paced, high-heat dark romance featuring an obsessive anti-hero, a heroine discovering her hidden power, explosive chemistry, and absolutely no holding back.
View MoreI left the Keep at dawn.Not through the main gates, but through the kitchen courtyard entrance that most people did not know existed, the one Caspian had shown me months ago when he was still teaching me the architecture of a fortress that was becoming mine.I wore a hooded cloak and no crown and the particular expression of a woman who did not want to be stopped by guards asking where their Queen was going at six in the morning without escort.My wolf led.She pulled me through the streets of Thorncross the way a hunting dog pulls toward a scent, that low insistent pressure in my chest that said this way, this way, faster, and I followed because she had been right about everything else and I was done second-guessing the one part of me that had never once been wrong.The merchant district was waking up around me. Vendors setting out their stalls. The smell of bread from the bakeries mixing with woodsmoke and the sharp cold bite of a winter morning that did not care what was hunting m
I did not move.Caspian's arm was still around me, his breath warm against my shoulder, his heartbeat slowing into the steady rhythm of a man settling into the aftermath of something that had emptied him completely. Through the bond he felt sated and fierce and entirely present, the particular quality of a man who believed, for this brief window, that the world was exactly as it should be.I could not let him feel what I was feeling.Not yet.I locked it down. Buried it beneath the residual warmth of his body and the lingering pulse of pleasure still moving through my muscles and the drowsy satisfaction the bond was carrying between us like something precious being passed from hand to hand.But my wolf was not drowsy.My wolf was standing rigid in my chest, every nerve firing, her attention fixed on my left wrist where the braided cord sat against my skin, soft from months of wearing, the blue and silver threads faded by sweat and weather and time into something that looked like it ha
Caspian found me before I reached our chambers.He was coming from the opposite end of the corridor, still in the clothes he had slept in, his dark hair disheveled and his silver eyes carrying the particular intensity of a man who had searched for me when he woke up but didn't find me and had been pacing the halls looking for me like he couldn't stand the thought of losing me or me being out of sight.So he could put his hands on me and verify with his own body that I was still whole.He did not speak.He crossed the distance between us in four strides, took my face in both hands, and kissed me so hard my back hit the corridor wall.Not gentle. Not careful. Not the measured tenderness of a man managing his own intensity. This was the kiss of someone who had spent the last hour feeling whispers in the bond that should not have been there and had converted every ounce of that fear into the specific, focused, devastating need to remind us both what was real.His tongue swept past my lips
I found her in the archive room, not the kitchen.That was the first wrong thing about this morning. Ana's mornings belonged to the kitchen floor and the cold tea and the quiet ritual we had built together. The archive room was where she worked. The kitchen was where she was human.She was not being human today.She was sitting at the long table with Shadow Court documentation spread around her like evidence at a trial, her hands moving through pages with the intensity of someone who had been at this for hours. When I came through the door she did not look up."How long?" I asked."Since three.""Ana, it's seven.""I know what time it is." She turned a page. Her fingers were trembling.I sat across from her and waited. She had taught me this, that sometimes the most important thing you could do was sit in someone's silence until it was ready to break on its own.Two minutes passed.Then she set down the page and looked at me, and her eyes were red from four hours of lamplight and somet






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