A Dark Paranormal Romance | Fated Mates | Slow Burn Obsession He came to her in chains. But it’s her rules he’ll beg to obey. By day, Ronan Thorne is an Alpha shifter - commanding, ruthless, untouchable. By night, he's something else entirely: a feral beast cursed by a vengeful moon goddess after he dared to seduce her sacred virgin. Every sunset splits his soul, forcing him to live half a life—and leaving behind blood and desire he can’t remember. Desperate for control, he seeks out Eidolon, the most exclusive underground dominatrix club in the city. But he doesn’t expect Talia, a woman with a voice that stills the storm inside him and eyes that see too much. Talia doesn’t do emotional entanglements. Her clients submit. They don’t haunt her dreams. But Ronan is different. Dangerous. Addictive. And when she touches him, something ancient stirs inside her a legacy tied to the very goddess who cursed him. He wants to surrender. She was born to command. But what begins as a game of control quickly spirals into obsession, forbidden lust, and a choice that could destroy them both. Can she tame the beast without losing herself… or will she awaken a hunger no one can contain? --- Author's Note Welcome to Marked by the Beast — where dominance is delicious, secrets are deadly, and the line between pleasure and danger? Paper-thin. This story contains mature themes, dark romance, and explicit scenes that may not be suitable for all readers. If you're into primal bonds, forbidden heat, and a heroine who doesn't just tame the beast—she owns him— Then, darling, you're exactly where you need to be. Read responsibly. Hydrate. And don’t say I didn’t warn you. From your favorite dark romance author Elle Targaryen😉
View More🌕 Prologue 🌕
The Sin Beneath the Moon “Who do you belong to?” Ronan’s voice was a low growl, dark silk sliding over steel. Aveline writhed beneath him, splayed bare across the moonstone altar like an offering luminous, trembling, sacred. Her long, pale hair stuck to the sweat on her temples, her lips parted in breathless abandon, and her thighs quaked on either side of his shoulders. Moonlight bled across her skin, turning her into something more than mortal and still, he devoured her like a man who didn’t believe in gods. “I...” she gasped, trying to form the words, her hands tangled in his hair. “I belong to—” His tongue slid over her slit, slow and claiming, cutting her off with a sharp cry. His mouth worshipped her. Open, wet, relentless. As if he could taste the stars in her. As if he deserved to. As if she wasn’t the High Priestess of the Moon Goddess, untouched by any man’s hand… until now. Her thighs clenched. Her hips bucked. But he held her down, one hand splayed flat over her stomach, the other gripping her thigh like he owned it. Like he owned her. “Say it,” he ordered, lifting his mouth just enough to let his breath fan across her slick heat. “Say who you fucking belong to.” Her breath hitched. Her back arched. “You,” she gasped. “I belong to you, Ronan.” The sacred stones hummed beneath them alive with power, or warning. The air was thick with it, pulsing with every gasp, every thrust of his tongue, every blasphemous word that spilled from her lips like prayer turned sin. He’d known what this was. He’d known the temple was holy, that her virginity was a vow to the Moon Goddess, that her body was meant for no mortal. And still… he couldn’t stop. Not when she looked at him like that. Not when her voice turned to pleading. Not when she touched him like he was the divine one. She came with a cry that echoed through the marble columns, head thrown back, arms spread wide, body shuddering beneath his mouth. And still, he wasn’t done. Ronan rose over her, eyes glowing with the beast just beneath his skin, cock hard and heavy against her thigh. His hand wrapped around her throat not to harm, but to hold, to ground. Her eyes fluttered open, dazed with lust and moonlight. “You want more?” he whispered, dragging the head of his cock through her slick folds. “You want to be fucked on your goddess’s altar?” “Yes,” she moaned, shameless. “I want all of you.” And she got him. Ronan drove into her with a groan that shook the air. Possessive. Deep. As if he could bury himself so far inside her he’d never have to leave. As if he could make her his in a place that was never meant to know him. Their bodies moved together in a rhythm that defied ritual. It was primal. Defiant. Holy in its own blasphemy. But the goddess was watching. And as Aveline screamed his name to the stars, the sky split open. The full moon turned blood-red. And judgment fell like a blade. The sky cracked like bone. One second, Aveline was writhing beneath him, her thighs slick with his come. The next she was gone. Gone, as if swallowed by moonlight itself. As if she’d never existed. The altar was empty beneath him, cold and echoing with absence. And then she appeared. Not from the air. Not from the shadows. From above. The Moon Goddess descended in a blaze of silver fire, her feet not touching the ground, her form not bound by flesh. Her body shimmered with celestial glow — equal parts woman, night, and starlight. Her face was ageless, lips dark as wine, her eyes twin moons burning with fury. Ronan scrambled back on instinct not from fear, but from a bone-deep instinct to kneel. To submit. Every cell in his body screamed at him to bow his head. And still, he stood. Naked. Defiant. Trembling. “You profaned my sanctuary,” she said, her voice a thousand echoes. “You spilled lust on sacred stone. You dared to take what was mine.” “I didn’t take her,” he growled, chest heaving. “She gave herself.” The goddess’s laugh was not mortal. It was thunder. Ice. Flame. “She was my vessel,” she hissed. “My voice in the flesh. Her purity was power, and now you’ve corrupted it. You, Alpha of Thorne-Claw. You who already ruled. You who needed nothing.” She stepped toward him, her presence pressing him down like gravity. Ronan gritted his teeth. He should have fought. He wanted to fight but his knees buckled. Not from pain. From something else. From the raw, inescapable pull of her dominance. It coiled around his spine, flooding his bloodstream. Every word she spoke wrapped tighter than a chain, pressing against a part of him he’d never let anyone touch. And for one terrifying moment, his cock stirred again not in lust, but in surrender. It horrified him. It thrilled him. And then it was gone. The goddess raised her hand. Power gathered like a storm. “You will be split,” she declared. “Your soul fractured. Your beast unleashed but never whole. You will hunger for touch, for belonging — and you will never be sated.” Ronan choked on air, his body convulsing as if his spine were being torn in half. “You will crave domination, but trust no one enough to surrender. You will kneel only when your soul burns to be owned.” Lightning seared through him. His skin split. He howled not as man, not as wolf, but as something torn between. “And when the blood moon rises again…” her voice dropped, cold and intimate, “you will feel the weight of your need. And if no one claims you, it will consume you whole.” Darkness swallowed him. And for the first time in his life, Ronan Lucien Thorne wanted to kneel. Not from weakness. But from desire. --- AUTHOR'S NOTE: OKAY...IM OFFICIALLY GONE MENTALLY😭😭😭 I'VE STARTED THIS STORY AND ALMOST GOTTEN TO A POINT WHERE I'VE THOUGHT, FINALLY WE'RE GETTING SOMEWHERE, BUT NOPE, I'VE HAD THIS ITCHING AT THE BACK OF MY MIND TELLING ME SOMETHING'S NOT RIGHT. SO, AS OF TODAY I'VE DECIDED THIS IS MY FINAL DRAFT TO THIS STORY. SO BUCKLE UP, AND GET READY FOR ALL THE DARK TWISTED THINGS I'VE BEEN REALLY WANTING TO PUT ON PAPER🔥🔥🩵Ronan🩵The blast sent Ronan to his knees.For a breathless moment, everything was light and heat and the deafening hum of magic gone wild. His ears rang. The air tasted like ash and iron. When the dust finally settled, he scrambled forward, panic clawing at his chest."Talia!"She lay crumpled where the spell had struck. Her body was still. Smoke curled from the ground around her. He reached her in seconds, hands skimming her shoulders, her face. Her pulse fluttered beneath his fingers. Alive. Barely.A roar erupted behind him—the Beast.The creature had fully transformed now. Tall and terrible, eyes burning gold, wings flaring wide. The sigils across his skin glowed with Seraphina’s magic, resisting her command with sheer will.Ronan turned, shielding Talia’s body with his own."Enough!" he shouted.Seraphina descended slowly, her feet touching the Hollow's ground like a queen descending from the heavens. Her eyes burned with fury, but her face remained eerily calm."She was in th
🩵Ronan🩵The torchlight flickered along the mountain corridor walls, casting sharp shadows across the weathered stone as Ronan paced the war chamber. Maps lay scattered across the central table, their edges curling with age. Battle plans, territorial wards, ancient bloodlines—all laid bare beneath his gloved hands.He could still feel the echo of the creature’s magic from earlier. Whatever had reached for Talia—it wasn’t just Seraphina. It was something far older. And now it was awake.“You felt it too,” Elia said, stepping into the chamber, arms folded across her chest. Her expression was unreadable, but the tension in her posture gave her away. “Did it speak to you?”Ronan gave a sharp nod. “Not in words. But it made its intent clear—it wants her.”“And you believe it’s the same creature from the cursed wood?”“No,” he said darkly. “It’s worse. That thing in the wood was a fragment, a shard of power. What reached through the wards today was something whole.”Elia flinched. “You’re
🩵Ronan🩵The night had grown heavy with silence. Not the peace of a world asleep, but the breath-holding quiet before a storm’s first roar.Ronan paced the stone corridor outside the meeting chamber, every step echoing like a war drum. His skin still hummed from Talia’s touch, the memory of her fingers laced with his—fragile and yet defiant. It lingered like a promise, or maybe a warning.Elia stood nearby, watching him with crossed arms. “You’ve been pacing for nearly fifteen minutes,” she said. “You’ll wear a path in the floor.”“I’m trying to think,” Ronan muttered. “That Seer’s words… They don’t sit right.”“They rarely do,” she replied dryly. “Cryptic riddles and half-truths—classic seer nonsense.”“She saw the flame.” Ronan paused, jaw clenched. “Talia is the flame. And something’s coming for her.”Elia’s face darkened. “Then you need to prepare her. No more coddling. If she’s going to survive this, she needs to fight.”Ronan nodded grimly.He found her in the eastern courtyard
🩷Talia🩷 The firelight painted warm gold across the stone walls, flickering shadows dancing like ghosts of old. Talia sat on the edge of the bed Ronan had insisted she take, wrapped in a heavy wool blanket that still didn’t stop the chill in her blood. It wasn’t the cold. It was what she remembered—the Beast’s breath against her neck, the weight of its claw, the sensation of being watched by something ancient and hungry even before it attacked. She pressed trembling fingers to the base of her throat, half expecting to find blood still drying. But there was none. Only a faint soreness and bruising. A mark. A claim? She pulled the collar of her sweater higher. Footsteps echoed softly in the hall, and her body tensed before she recognized the gait—heavy, purposeful. Ronan. He stopped outside her door. She waited, expecting a knock, expecting something… but he didn’t enter. Just silence. Then: “Talia?” His voice, rougher than usual, carried something restrained in it. “I’m awake,
🪄Seraphina🪄The ritual chamber was alive with heat, with hunger. Black runes pulsed beneath her bare feet as smoke coiled along the stone floor like living fingers. Above her, the great bloodstone glowed a dark crimson, suspended in the air by raw magic. Cracks had begun to form along its facets—fractures of power. It was almost ready.Seraphina stood before the altar, her robes damp with sweat, hair clinging to her back. The summoning circle pulsed in rhythm with her heart, steady and sure.She had waited lifetimes for this.Behind her, her younger sister watched from the shadows—Sylara. Wide-eyed, tense, her hands clutched the obsidian doorway like it might keep her anchored.“This isn’t what we agreed to,” Sylara said quietly.Seraphina didn’t look back. “It’s exactly what we agreed to. You just didn’t understand the price.”“You said we’d reclaim the bloodline. That we’d be strong again. You didn’t say we’d wake... that thing.”Seraphina smiled. “Power never rises quietly, littl
🩵RONAN🩵Ronan paced outside the healer’s quarters, his boots crunching against the gravel path as he rubbed the tension from his jaw. Inside, Cael lay unconscious, his body trembling from the remnants of Seraphina’s magic still bleeding from his veins. The scent of old blood and fire lingered in the air—proof of just how close they’d come to losing everything.His pack was shaken.And Talia…He turned toward the balcony above the west wing where her shadow passed behind a curtain. She hadn’t come down since they returned. Elia said she needed rest. That she was processing.Ronan knew better. She was afraid—of her power, of what it meant, of what it was turning her into.He understood that fear too well.“Ronan.” Elia’s voice called him back from the edge. She approached with her usual bluntness, but her eyes were softer than usual. “The council’s demanding a report. They want to know if the creature was a one-off, or the beginning of something worse.”“It’s both,” he said simply.Sh
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