Warning: Smut, sexual violence
"I've allowed your leash to slacken too much." He growled in her ear.
Ravage threw her down on the bed, crawling on top of her as he held her arms down. The breath was knocked out of her, and she fought against his grip as hard as her body would let her. He only laughed, cuffs appearing on her wrists, and chains appeared to restrain her arms tightly. He held her legs down, causing heat to stir in her core with how close his hands were. "You are my mate, bonded by the fate hags," he cooed, the cold rage dripping in his tone, "my betrothed, my queen, my equal." He snapped his fingers, and his armor disappeared. It took everything within Emyra not to salivate as she took in his body. Unlike Dion's soft, undefined features, the fae king was chiseled, toned, and so, so strong. As her eyes trailed down to his length, her bottom lip quivered uncontrollably. "I allowed your tristes with that witchling boy," Ravage growled, pinning her inner thigh down with one knee, and he leaned over, "so that you would realize how your puppy love has made you blind." He grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged her head roughly so she could look into his eyes. "He may have given you pleasure, but I will make you orgasm until you see nothing but the stars you adore so much." He said huskily, his voice sending shivers down her spine into her core. "You will not miss his touch when I fuck you, my mate. You will see the pleasure of being the Dead King's Bride."
Emyra is a witch, ordained by the moon and stars. Her life was full and quiet until her 18th year, when the Dead King claimed her as his bride and mate. Coincidingly, an ancient power awakens within her, causing the dead to heed her calls. In this dark fantasy romance, Emyra will find herself at odds with her best friend, her coven, and her desires.
Edited version of "The Protector."
Excerpt:
"You are my mate," he said to her coldly.
Tracy looked at him intensely. "What does that mean in werewolf?" She asked curiously.
"It means that you are my soulmate.'"
"You don't sound happy about it." Tracy said cocking her head to the side. Closely studying his features, she briefly considered what it would be like to be a Luna.
"Honestly, I could care less. My plan was to announce a mate this evening. You conveniently showed up. I don't intend to change my ways. I can have any woman I want, anytime I want her. You're mine by right, so get over it."
"I am not anyone's property. Especially not yours." Tracy said firmly, hiding her tormented feelings. "I refused to be used. "she said angrily.
Crowding Tracy's body with his arms, he boxed her in against the bookcase and growled. "I own you."
"Really? I don't see 'Property of Douche Bag' written here." Tracy said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. Jonathan's scent was strong, arousing the tickle in her nose. The heat from his muscular frame drew her body closer. Holding firmly, she refused to melt into him.
Jonathan dropped his heavy gaze to the rapid pulse beating visible on her pulsing neck. Stroking a single finger over the spot where his mark would be, he caused her to shiver.
"That can be rectified." he said seductively.
"Try it and I'll muzzle you." She snapped.
Jonathan's green eyes darkened. lunging forward, he grabbed Tracy by the throat and pulled her forward. Elongating his teeth, Tracy remained calm.
"You shouldn't have done that." she chuckled. Feeling the powers surge through her veins, her grey eyes glowed a burning silver. "You really shouldn't have."