Hello, we have come to the end of 'Bound to My Wicked Stepbrother'; there are still about 2-3 bonus chapters left; I will hopefully update them through the weekend and give further information on my next work to find out more about Ruby. Special thanks to Erin Beth for the massive votes; Katherine Gates, Bumblebee and Katsil as well, you really kept me going. Thank you all so much for reading and for just being bookworms. I really appreciate you—more information in the bonus chapters. Again, thank you so much for reading!
Marko "Cut”. The director's voice rang for what would be the last time, and applause followed. The moment was bittersweet, but the feel of Alba detaching from him as if he was plagued stung. "Alb-" "Don't...don't say anything, Marko. Let this end." "I don’t want-" "Don't want that?" Again, she interrupted him, finishing his sentence when he did not wish her to. "Marko, you called me a slut a few weeks ago, so let this 'slut' reform her ways, a safe distance from you.” “I never said you were a slut.” “No, you merely said that I spread my legs for anyone who gives me the time of day; if your argument is on semantics, try again." Alba uttered as she moved from him, but her dress, the same ivory gown that stole his chest as she walked down the Aisle, making him wish that for a moment the scene was real and she was his bride, made her curse as she moved. "God damn heels!" She muttered before leaving him...again. Should he manipulate her transport? No, she might not fall for
He isn’t coming. I repeat to myself as I splash some more warm water on my face. Ugh, what the hell was that sickly sweet champagne Magnolia guzzled down my throat in ‘celebration’? If she wants me to be drunk and embarrass myself, all she has to do is say that. A sigh escapes me at my tired expression in the bathroom mirror. My face is flushed, yet despite how tipsy I am, the hurt from seeing him arrive with his ‘ex-fiancée’ cut too deep to be blurred with liquor. Ever since the production ended, I woke up to sex dreams where Marko would bind me, trap me somewhere and have his way with me mercilessly. Of course, I would plead that he free me because, let’s face it, I would only plead that he does not touch me so that I could be regarded as sane. Because who in the hell would want to be bound and f*cked mercilessly by someone who all but regarded them as a slut? Guilt always devours me at the end of the vulgar dreams, I guess they are about to worsen now that he is with his ex-f
TRIGGER WARNING: CONSENT. The pounding in my head trembles my vision. Christ, I am never drinking again. My struggle to change my position and take advantage of the day is met with a familiar stiffness; only the rattling sounds binding me send my eyes wide open. An unfamiliar room, brightly lit with top wall windows that ensure I cannot see outside, but enough light enters that I can see thousands upon thousands of pictures of me lining the walls. Hah... what the hell? Panic sets in low in my belly as struggle finds my limbs. I do not wish to scream; who knows what I will alert, but the rattling of the cuffs binding my hands and feet to the bed must have awoken something because movement sounds from the other side, beyond the dark staired hallway. It would have been easy to sit upright had it only been my hands bound, but both my hands and feet were chained to the bed, holding me indecently in place and... My clothes are different. "You are up? Good, I brought you some food.
And that’s a wrap. The book will be marked as complete soon; I hope you loved both stories, the bonus ( ̄y▽ ̄)╭ ohohoho….. and the main story. Now on the meat of the matter, my next work will be out in late June or Mid-July titled: The Alpha's Ruby Obsession (I think, but most likely.) It will be 18+, not just because of the smut but because it is a little darker than this one, discussing themes to do with suicidal ideations and consent-non-consent relations, but don’t worry, I will tag the concerning chapters. It can be read as a stand-alone, but there are benefits to reading this book first. Lastly, this concerns my other book: Your last lie—please do not purchase it until perhaps next year (Late next year); it was my first book and thus very clumsy, I want to work on it, and if you have it in your library, you can remove it and select it later, the changes should reflect. Thank you for reading and voting for ‘Bound to My Wicked Stepbrother’. I would love to hear more from you; whe
“What number does this one make?”“It’s called dating, Violet.”I explain as I press my body to the glass counter containing potions with eye-catching titles like ‘relive your happiest moment’ or ‘spend five minutes with your lost loved ones’.Though the humans in the town would deem this shop a ‘mystic gothic store’, demeaning its actuality to belief, my best friend, Violet, is a real witch.My phone buzzes and a reminder for my upcoming date pops up.“Imagine having so many dates that you must put reminders on your phone lest you break the heart of someone’s son. Your confidence in still referring to that as dating is baffling.”I laugh sarcastically at her comment as she slides my order toward me in a glass box that I open instantly.She makes no secret of her disapproval of my consistent use of the concoctions she brews; she even changed their packaging from a warm orange liquid to a glittery dark blue that looked downright unpalatable.To emphasise my protest to her protest, I do
Had I smelled him before leaving the pack, I would never have taken more than two steps into this restaurant. But that’s the thing about glimpses into the future; information is never complete. So much for a unique wolf attribute. “Turn to me, Alba. I will not ask again.” This time, he speaks the words and waves off the server for privacy, privacy I could do well without. If I act any more suspiciously, he might catch on to the secrets I carry, so I turn and bow without meeting his gaze, yet even that minuscule act causes my animosity towards him to yield at the despicably enticing scent he exudes. “I greet his majesty, the Lycan King of Ketria.” I respond using the link he formed, and rather than free me from this hideous responsibility, he steps right before me and lifts my gaze from the inky blackness of his shoes to meet the silver of his eyes. Christ, but the man is the definition of perfection. His long white lashes and cropped silverish-white hair grant him an ethereal-l
My mouth widens at his question, I want to question his audacity, but his newfound nearness permits me to see the burning anger in his gaze under the streetlights.I have no obligation to answer him, yet my mind works feverishly at a defence.What is this incessant need to pacify him despite his anger being none of my responsibility? Especially when his scent remains the culprit to why my centre remains moist.I swallow dryly.The last thought triggers my awareness of his sexual magnetism, his large build that teases at the warmth of his hold, and the startling intensity of his gaze.I want to take a step back from him, but I am rooted in my spot by the part of me that longs to explore his features to discover how much I have missed in our time apart.I recoil at my thoughts by turning away from him, desperate for the space to collect myself, but his hand grabs my arm and pulls my body towards his.His hold is rough; why it thrills me can only be tied to my deviancy.“What is it about
Marko N. Ivanov “How could he do this? How could he do this to me?” Mother’s scream was audible through the halls, each question perfectly punctuated by the shattering of more hallway décor. With a mere announcement, the most regal wolf in the kingdom was reduced to hysterics—a sight he had never witnessed before. The butler was the first to shield Marko from the ferocious howls that followed. This act added to his tension by confirming that what was indeed wrong was diabolically irreparable. "Is there some sort of proof that they are mates?” His question came off with more emotion than he, as the heir to the throne, was permitted to portray. "His-" The butler hesitated, gazing left and right as though he was about to utter words that would endanger his life. “His majesty was the one to proclaim that, so we must believe his words. Even the elder council remains in disarray.” "What of mother? What becomes of her now?" That wasn’t what he wished to ask; what he meant to ask wa