Masuk“You're just a lowly servant!” Lady Victoria screams. “How dare you touch my Alpha? How dare you kiss him with your filthy mouth?!”
The world spins as my heart stops. I'm doomed. She knows. Of course she knows. There are always eyes. Always ears. Always someone watching. I was a fool to think for even a second that I could have a moment of privacy with the King. They saw the kiss. They saw a scavenger touching what Lady Victoria believes is her birthright. I drop to my knees, my pulse pounding in my chest as the shadows crawl in… Ready to swallow me whole. To erase me completely. And this time… I know I will not survive it. “I’m sorry, my lady,” I plead, my voice shaking. “I… I did not intend…” “You lying, filthy thing! Whip!” she shouts, and a servant rushes forward, passing her the heavy leather whip. “I told you to stand in my place,” she continues. “Not to touch what belongs to me.” The first strike comes down across my shoulders, the leather biting deep into the skin that Alpha Kieran just held so gently. The pain tears through my spine and I clutch at the floor, my knuckles turning white. I don't cry out. I have learned over the years that silence is the only dignity a servant is allowed. “You think because you wore my dress that you are a lady?” Lady Victoria’s voice rises with every blow. The whip falls again and again, rhythmic and brutal, my body jerking with every strike. “You are dirt! You are the filth I walk on!” “No…” I shake my head, tears blurring my vision. Another strike. And again. Each hit steals the air from my lungs, burns my skin, and breaks something deeper. The fragile hope I carried from the garden shatters. “Then why,” she demands, voice dripping with venom, “did you let my Alpha taste your lips?” My throat tightens. He is my mate. The truth claws at my chest, desperate to be heard, but it will be my death warrant. I am a servant. I have no right to a mate… especially not a king. “I… I could not stop,” I whisper, the truth slipping out before I can hide it. “Could not?” she snorts. “Or would not?” I do not answer. Because I do not know. And that is the worst part. The whip strikes harder now. Faster. Relentless. She lashes me until her own arm tires, and my consciousness begins to fray. “P-please… don't kill me!” I cry out, my instinct to live overriding my pride. “Y-you need me… I’m useful… I can still serve…” Lady Victoria laughs, sharp and cruel. “There are many she-wolves outside the palace who can pass as me behind a mask. What made you think you weren’t replaceable?” The whip comes down once again. Then again and again until suddenly it stops. She hurls the whip aside with a grunt, steps closer, fist tightening in my hair, and yanks my head back, forcing me to look at her beautiful, twisted face. I can barely feel my body. I am a heap of bruised flesh and torn silk. “Remember your place,” she says coldly. “Or next time, I will not stop at bruises.” She throws me aside like a broken doll. “Throw her in the cell. No food, no water for three days.” Her footsteps fade. Hands grab me, dragging me across the floor and down stone steps before throwing me into the damp, dark cell. The iron gate slams shut with a final, echoing clang, chains rattle, and footsteps fade away. Soon, silence settles in; only the sound of my ragged breathing remains… and the faint scratching of rodents in the dark dungeon. I sit up slowly, trembling, and curl against the cold wall, hugging my knees. Every inch of me aches. Suddenly, the realization hits me. This bond did not come to save me. It came to destroy me. And yet, my heart betrays me. I squeeze my eyes shut, and I can still see Alpha Kieran's silver gaze. I can still feel the way the world stopped when he touched me. His lips on mine. How nothing existed but him. This cannot happen again. No one must know. It must remain a secret, or it will be the end of me. But deep down I know this is not over. Not even close. …~... Growl… My stomach twists painfully. I press a hand against it. Moon goddess… water. Just a drop. My throat is so parched I can no longer swallow. My lips are dry. I want to cry at my misery, but even my tears refuse to come. My body is too dry, too weak. All my wounds have healed. That’s the only mercy I’ve ever been given. Even before I got my wolf… I have always healed too fast. Faster than I should, erasing the traces of all the abuse and torture I suffer. It's as if my body refuses to stay broken. Time loses meaning in the dark. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I strain my hearing for any sound beyond these walls. Nothing. I never cared about the time wherever I was brought in here, but this time, it is different. I was whipped. And all I can think about is him. My mate. Strangely, thinking about him makes the pain slightly bearable until I stop, then the hunger and thirst return. I wonder if he has already met Victoria, and questions surge. If he has. Was he disappointed when he couldn’t feel the bond? Did he realize she’s not me? Even if no one else could tell… he’s the king. He should know the difference, right? Our scents are not the same. I’ve never understood why others don’t notice. I’m not scentless. Once, the healer Morwenna told me my scent was… rare. One of a kind. Unforgettable. So why does no one else see it? Why does no one notice the truth? Since I was thrown in here, I can’t stop thinking… He knows my scent. He knows my touch. What if he comes to find me? What if he sees through Lady Victoria's lies? Can I finally break free from this hell? Moon goddess, is it so wrong to hope? I’m tired. Tired of this life. This endless hell I've known all my life. What if… The thought is cut short by the sound of angry, frantic footsteps descending the stone stairs. I pull myself into the furthest corner, my heart racing. I know that walk. I can tell by the pattern; it's Lady Victoria. What would force her down here, to this rusty, rotten, smelly place? Her words. Unless something went wrong and she is here to vent. No, I will die at this rate. Fear grips me tighter than the hunger, clawing up my throat. My breathing turns shallow. As my heartbeat accelerates… something strange follows it. A faint tingling spreads beneath my skin. Unfamiliar. Unsettling. Uncomfortable. The footsteps stop, chains rattle, and the cell door creaks open. Footsteps approach me in the dark—slow, deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. I press back against the wall, wishing I could disappear into it. Then… Her hand closes around my throat. Tight. I gasp, clawing at her hand as she lifts me slightly, cutting off my air. Her fury is suffocating. “What did you do?” Lady Victoria hisses, dragging me toward her. “You were supposed to be a puppet. Not a whore.” Her grip tightens. And suddenly… I realize something is very, very wrong. “What else happened with the king?” My vision blurs, my pulse roaring in my ears as confusion crashes through me. What…? What does she think I’ve done?Hello🖐, lovelies. Thank you for being here, for giving my story a chance. I hope you’re feeling every emotion, every pull, every spark just as deeply as I imagined it. We’re only getting started, and trust me, it only gets more intense from here. I’m so glad you’re part of it. ❤Love, Fireworks🎆
I must kill it.That thing inside her definitely must not see the sunlight tomorrow. I lift my leg, ready to stomp on her stomach and get rid of what's in there.“You psychopath…” Ivy begins, charging at me, but I fix her with a murderous glare that immediately makes her cower.That idiot has always been terrified of me. I don't know what Madison fed her to make her act so bold tonight.I lift my hand to slap her when the drug kicks in once again, and I sway.“Maddie, are you alright?” Ivy asks as she drops to Madison’s side.I look down at Madison's pale face, twisted in raw, undeniable pain. Maybe the knee kick was enough to get rid of the child.“Ivy, d-don’t let her get away,” she gasps, and I turn to run, but I'm dragged back harshly.Ivy presses the button and blocks the entrance, arms spread.“Hahaha…” Madison lets out a broken laugh, “You're not going anywhere.”The elevator doors start to close; I move toward Madison, and Ivy runs forward.“You vixen, what are you going to do
Madison!Why must my blood share a tie with yours? I hate you with every fiber of my broken body.I will kill her for this.This torture. Pain tears through every part of me. My body burns like it is being ripped apart from the inside, and no matter how much I beg, these monsters refuse to let me go.It hurts.Goddess… everything hurts.My throat is raw from the endless hours of screaming and begging.“P-please…” I whisper hoarsely, barely recognizing my own voice anymore. “Please let me go…”My voice is so low and hollow that I doubt they can even hear the plea over their vile grunts.“Oh, you are so sweet. Keep crying and begging for me. I absolutely love it,” the man above me says. His voice is filled with manic lust as he takes me roughly against the cold floor.They are not going to stop unless…More tears slide into my hairline as darkness slowly creeps into the edges of my vision.No.No, no, no… I can't die like this. Not here, and not because of Madison.“No. Please. Let me g
My vision blurs from the slap as blood fills my mouth.“I knew you were up to no good!” Damien barks at me, his eyes filled with contempt.I grip my burning cheek as I look up at Damien’s cold, disgusted face.He… he hit me.Damien hit me because of Madison. I open my mouth, but he's already carrying Madison in his arms.“Guards! Drag this wicked woman into the ballroom. I want everyone to see just how evil she truly is.”“No. Damien! You won't do that to me. Everything I did is for you,” I explain quickly as I try to resist, but he's already walking away without sparing me a glance. “Damien! You bastard!”He doesn't stop.“Elara, shift now.” I command my wolf when the men try to subdue me. But then, something cold is locked around my neck.I gasp as they seize me.“I can't shift, Allison. It's an enchanted collar,” Elara tells me.I know.I'm a villainess.What will that mean if I don't know what an enchanted collar is? I have used it on Madison once, but that's a story for another t
Book 2:Allison's POV~~~Since the day Madison and I were born, everyone knew I was the chosen twin.Not because I was healthier.Not because I was prettier.Not even because I was firstborn by six whole minutes, which I still think should matter legally somehow.No.It was because of the mark. The Goddess’s mark.A silver crescent rested beneath my collarbone from birth, glowing faintly whenever moonlight touched my skin.Mom told me how the elders nearly lost their minds the first time they saw it.“A blessed child.”“The Moon Goddess favors her.”“The future of the Thomas bloodline.”People worshipped me before I could even walk. And honestly?I believed them.Why wouldn’t I?I looked exactly like the woman painted inside the moon temple. Long golden hair. Pale skin. Gray eyes so light they almost looked silver. Even my scent carried moonflower, something rare among werewolves.Everywhere I went, people stared. Women complimented me. Men adored me. Teachers favored me.I was beaut
A week later...Night settles over the royal territory, but the darkness brings no fear.Above the grand castle, the full moon shines down with breathtaking clarity, bathing the stone courtyards in soft, shimmering silver. Soft music drifts out from the grand hall, accompanied by the joyful laughter of the pack members, the clinking of goblets, and the warmth of a hundred blazing hearths.Out on the high marble balcony overlooking the kingdom, Aurelia sits on a velvet bench with Lucian and Lucinda cuddled against her sides. She hums an ancient, sweet lullaby from the spiritual realm—a song Morgana hasn't heard since she was six years old. Small, harmless silver butterflies made of pure magic float around the toddlers' heads, making them giggle softly as their eyelids grow heavy.Standing near the stone railing, a few paces away, Kieran wraps his strong arms around Morgana from behind. He pulls her tight against his broad chest, resting his chin on her shoulder.Morgana rests her hands
The single word hangs in the quiet air like a forgotten prayer.Morgana forgets the heavy silver ceremonial robe. She forgets the court elders watching from the benches, forgets the golden crown resting on her head, and forgets the grand celebration around her. Her legs move on their own. She steps down from the altar, her bare feet gliding quickly down the velvet-covered stone steps."Mother?" Morgana whispers again, her chest heaving as tears spill over her eyelashes.The woman steps fully out of the silver fog. Her glowing eyes overflow with tears as she opens her slender arms.Morgana breaks into a run.She hurls herself straight into her mother's embrace, clinging to her with every ounce of strength left in her body. The warm, sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine and winter snow wraps around Morgana instantly, dragging her back to her earliest memories—to soft lullabies, gentle hands, and a deep love she thought had died twenty years ago."My sweet girl..." her mother cries soft
~~•~♡~•~~ “No! Alpha…” I say softly, forcing a smile I don’t feel, trying to remain calm. “Please. Allow me this small mystery for tonight. I promise our next encounter will be different.” He studies me for a long moment, his gaze heavy with suspicion. I can feel the decision forming behind his
~~~▪☆▪~~~ I stand there, paralyzed, looking into eyes that hold a brewing storm. I’m a servant in a borrowed dress, a girl who scrubs filth from stone floors and survives on scraps from the kitchen trash. Because of that, they call me Raccoon, a scavenger in the dark, and I'm fated to the King
~~•~☆~•~~ The doors close behind me with a quiet finality. I take deep breaths, trying to calm the storm inside my chest. “This way, my lady?” Two guards lead the way. I pause after a few steps and turn, and as expected, Beta Silas is at the upper balcony, a silent threat that reminds me that one
Morgana’s POV~~⋆꩜˚𓇼˚꩜⋆~~“Ah—ah… yes…” Lady Victoria’s breathless cries seep through the heavy oak doors, thick with lust and indulgence. The sounds of bodies slapping, of pleasure being taken without restraint, echo down the corridor.I don’t flinch.I stand where I always do, outside the door,







