Romane von Lovinah

Embracing The New ChapterSophia PovI trace the line of my jaw in the polished mirror, my fingers lingering over the unblemished skin. A face I know and don't know at the same time. The woman staring back has my eyes, the same gray-blue irises that once watched my home burn and my life bleed out on a marble floor. But her cheeks are full, a hint of color in them that mine never had, and her lips are a soft, delicate pink. I reach up, my hand feeling foreign as it touches her, my, face. I run my tongue over my teeth, a familiar habit, and my breath hitches. My canines are longer, sharper than a human's should be, though I've read in the dusty library books that some humans, born of noble lineage, possess such traits. It's not a clear sign, not a definite tell. My skin is too soft, my senses too dull. There is a cold, empty place inside me where a Lycan’s primal power should be. I am not like my father. I am not like my dead mother. I am a ghost in this flesh.The past week has been

A New Life, A New ChanceSophia Pov My body felt heavy, waterlogged, and cold. A strange, detached sensation, as if I were floating in a suffocating darkness. I’d been waiting for the torment to begin; the last thing I remembered was his horrified face as I bled out on his floor, a curse on my lips. My life had been extinguished by his hand, the last echoes of my voice a promise of vengeance. But why wasn't I a ghost? Why wasn't I already a vengeful spirit, already haunting his every moment? The void was not filled with the familiar cold of the grave or the fiery wrath of a vengeful soul. It was just a strange, quiet emptiness.A voice pierced the void, gentle and frantic. “My lady! Oh, my lady, you are awake!”I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids were heavy, weighed down by an exhaustion that seemed to predate my death. A soft, warm hand stroked my forehead, a touch so foreign, so kind, that a shudder ran through me. In my last life, hands only brought pain, a harsh shove, a str

The Vow Of RevengeSophia PovI’m on the floor, my breath a choked sob. The Lycan King stands over me, a sneer twisting on his lips. His golden eyes burn with a cold, hateful gaze. My hand instinctively clutches my belly, the sole source of warmth in this cold world. I close my eyes, bracing for the inevitable. He delights in violence; I’ve seen him tear servants apart. The burns of the whip marks on my back are a constant reminder of my helplessness.“On your feet,” he commands, his voice a predator’s growl.I scramble up, clumsy and awkward. The dull ache in my knees and the sting on my back feel magnified under his gaze. He watches my every trembling movement, a cruel expression on his face.“Undress,” he says, his tone serious.The command freezes me. My eyes widen in a silent, desperate plea. The thought of exposing myself to this monster is a humiliation greater than any physical pain. My thin clothes are my last shred of dignity.“I won’t tell you again,” he says, his voice lo

Life In The PalaceSophia's POV"Is this what your cluster-fucked hands are good for? The King's room must be spotless. SPOTLESS you whore, goddammit!”My lips hold back a wince as a long spikey whip cracks across my lower back. The head maid, a woman with a face as hard as stone and eyes filled with malice, stands over me."Useless animal." She spits, and I wince again, palms instinctively flying to my bruised back. I could feel the torn flesh, and the wetness of blood, a sign of her hardwork.Nevertheless, this is my life now.This is all it’s been for seven months, ever since my husband, the man I once thought I loved, sold me off, as one of the Lycan's countless slaves. Though, that was far more considerate than the position I bore here. At least, in most eyes.Every day is a new form of torture. The physical pain is nothing compared to the emotional torment.[Whore, bastard, slut]The words follow me like a second name, clinging to my skin, I barely hear my name being called here