Novels by Luciana diamond

The room fell into a stunned silence the moment Prince Nicolas made his announcement. It was as if the very air had frozen mid-breath.Around the stone table, the Lords exchanged wary glances, hushed whispers buzzing like flies in a crypt. Then Ogar—the Minister of Health—raised his hand, his expression carefully neutral."Your Highness," he began, his voice a measured blend of caution and respect. "It is unheard of for an Arcadian Lycan, much less one of royal blood, to take a human as a mate."He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing. "And even more so... one with no bond. No sacred tie. No mark of fate."Nicolas listened in stillness, arms crossed behind his back like a soldier standing guard over his fury. The rest of the council remained mute, their disdain for Seraphina etched in every cold glance they threw her way.They didn’t see a woman. They saw an intruder. A threat. A human."I hear you," Nicolas said finally, his voice calm—too calm. "I hear yo

Seraphina sat before the mirror, brushing her hair one slow stroke at a time. The strands slipped through her fingers like water, falling soft and straight over her shoulders. She hummed an old lullaby her mother used to sing back when life was simpler when love still lived in their home. The tune felt like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.She stared at her reflection.The girl in the mirror was... perfect. Too perfect. Skin smooth and glowing. Lips soft. The curls are neat and shiny. Her dress, a pale lavender fabric that hugged her waist like it knew exactly where it belonged, didn’t even look like hers.She looked like a doll. Polished. Pretty. Posed.“This can’t be real,” she whispered.Behind her, the wardrobe stood wide open, full of fine dresses with lace and jewel, gowns she once would’ve ironed for noble ladies. Back when she was just the help. Back when her family cast her out like spoiled fruit, too rotten to keep.Now she was the one in silk.But the sweetness of it

The room was dim and cold, lit only by the soft glow of a desk lamp. Shadows clung to the corners like cobwebs. Prince Nicolas sat alone in a high-backed, carved chair, his massive frame wrapped in a dark blue robe trimmed with silver thread. The silk hugged him like a lover, outlining his broad chest, part of which was exposed through an unfastened button.He sighed and shut his eyes. A headache throbbed just behind his forehead, dull and persistent. Silence wrapped around him, until a soft knock broke it apart.“Come in,” he said, even though he wasn’t in the mood for company. But the scent had already reached him—floral, musky, familiar.Mira.She stepped in, moving with the slow, deliberate grace of someone who knew she was being watched. Her black dress was tight, short, and unapologetically revealing. Her breasts nearly spilt from the top, and her long blonde hair, usually tied back, now cascaded down her back in waves. Her hips swayed with every step.“Good evening, Your Grace,

The journey took several days. It was long, rough, and left them both drained. They crossed wide seas, climbed steep mountains, and sat through endless, bumpy rides. Seraphina couldn’t help wondering why Prince Nicolas, a royal, wasn’t travelling in some fancy private carriage or even a guarded convoy of soldiers. No escort. Just the two of them hopped on public ships and buses like ordinary people. By the time they reached the Farachy Mountains—a place Seraphina had always thought was a made-up legend—her legs were jelly. She had heard old tales about these mountains, but never believed they were real. Just like Arcadia. It was always spoken about like a bedtime story—full of magic and mystery—but nobody she knew had ever been there or seen it. As they passed through a narrow path in the mountain, they found two horses tied to a tree. “I hope you know how to ride,” Nicolas said, giving her a look. Seraphina nodded, though her body was crying for rest. She tried to mount the

Seraphina stirred beneath an unfamiliar weight. The blanket was thick and soft—far too luxurious for someone like her. A soft exhale left her lips as her body shifted, tangled in warmth. In her dream, the night air smelled like blooming jasmine and wild rain. Moonlight poured over a garden straight out of a forgotten realm, casting shadows across the soft petals and dewy grass. There, he stood—tall, massive, radiant in the silver glow. A Lycan. He wasn’t just big. He was monumental. His broad chest rose and fell slowly, like the steady beat of a drum, and his arms circled her as if she was the only thing in the world worth holding. He pulled her against him, close—so close she could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat through his skin. Safe. For the first time in years, she felt it. No pain. No fear. Just his touch, warm and steady. She looked up at him, into eyes that burned like pale fire. His lips met hers—firm, demanding, hungry. The kind of kiss that claimed and consu

The wedding preparations passed in a blur. Seraphina avoided everyone, burying herself in her duties, refusing to let the whispers, the stares, or the betrayal sink too deep into her heart. Grandma Thalia continued to dote on Zara, showering her with love and affection. Not once did they reprimand her for what she had done, nor did they scold her for stealing what wasn’t hers? To them, she was still the apple of their eye. Seraphina saw it all. But she no longer cared. She chose a simple white dress with thin straps and a slit from the knee. Her long brown hair was carefully styled and adorned with pearls. A light touch of makeup enhanced her natural beauty. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she found no trace of emotion. Her face was unreadable, her eyes distant, yet she was breathtaking. The grand hall was decorated exquisitely, shimmering in golden light. Soft music played as little girls in white dresses scattered confetti and flowers along the aisle. Alphas sat