LOGINChapter 3By the third day the house had settled into a cold, careful routine.Soren was already in the study every morning when I came downstairs. The door stayed locked. He took calls with the volume low enough that I could only catch the tone of his voice—calm, precise, never raised. In the evenings he cooked simple meals and left a plate for me in the fridge without comment. He didn’t try to make conversation. He didn’t need to. The fact that he moved through the rooms like he belonged there was provocation enough.I made sure to be wherever he was.If he was in the kitchen, I found a reason to be there. If he was in the living room going through files, I sat across from him with a book I didn’t read. I watched the way his jaw tightened when he noticed me. I watched the careful way he ignored the bait. The restraint only made the old resentment burn hotter.On the fourth night I found him in the study after the lock had failed to catch properly. He was standing at my father’s old
Chapter 1The first thing I learned after my father died was that he had left the house to someone else.Not to me. Not to the family trust. To him.Soren Vale. The scholarship boy my father had brought home twelve years ago like a stray. The quiet, sharp-eyed teenager who sat at our dinner table with perfect manners while I made his life as unpleasant as possible. The one who left for university on a full ride and never came back—until the reading of the will, when he walked into the lawyer’s office in a black suit that fit too well and listened to the terms without a single change in expression.The house. The controlling shares. The right to decide what happened to the company my family had built.I sat across from him in that airless office and felt something cold and ugly settle under my ribs.“You’re free to contest it,” Soren said once the lawyer had left us alone. His voice was the same quiet instrument I remembered, only colder now. “It will take years. You’ll lose. But you’r
Chapter 4I slept in his bed again.Not because I chose to. Because the bond would not allow otherwise.Every time I drifted toward the edge of true sleep, I felt the low, steady pulse of Veythar’s magic in my chest, anchoring me to the space beside him. When I tried to roll away, it tightened—not painfully, but firmly, like a hand closing around my ribs. By the time true night settled over the Spire, I had stopped fighting the pull. I lay on my side with his chest against my back, one of his arms locked around my waist, and the slow leak of his earlier release still warm inside me.I woke before dawn to the feeling of him already hard and pressing against my ass.Veythar did not speak. He simply pushed the soft black trousers down, spat into his hand, and guided himself back into me with one long, continuous thrust. I was still open, still slick. The stretch forced a low sound from my throat. He covered my mouth with his palm and fucked me in slow, deep strokes, the wet sound of it q
Chapter 3The rest of the day passed in a blur of controlled humiliation and forced focus.Veythar did not allow me to rest. He took me from the training hall to a smaller chamber lined with shelves of dark tomes and crystal vessels. There he made me kneel again—this time without the cuffs—and ordered me to reach for my magic under his supervision. Every time I succeeded in drawing even a thin thread of power, the bond rewarded me with a low pulse of heat that settled straight between my legs. Every time I failed or pushed too hard, it punished me with a sharp flare of pain behind my eyes.He watched everything. My breathing. The way my hands trembled. The growing strain in the front of my trousers as the bond kept feeding unwanted arousal into my body.“You are learning,” he said after the third hour. “Slowly. But learning.”I kept my eyes on the floor. My hole still felt open and used. Every time I shifted on my knees I felt the slow, filthy reminder of what he had left inside me th
Chapter 2I woke to the weight of the bond.It sat low in my chest like a second heartbeat—dark, steady, and unmistakably his. Every time I breathed, I felt the faint pull of Veythar’s magic wrapped around my own. It didn’t hurt. That almost made it worse. The absence of pain made the ownership feel more complete.I was alone in the bed.The black sheets were cold where his body had been. Morning light filtered through the tall window in thin grey shafts. My body ached in deep, used places. When I shifted, I felt the slow leak of his release still inside me. The reminder made my face burn.I sat up carefully. My clothes from the night before were gone. In their place, folded at the foot of the bed, lay a new set: black trousers and a soft dark shirt that laced up the front. Again, no underclothes. I put them on anyway, jaw tight.The door opened before I finished lacing the shirt.Veythar stepped inside, already dressed in black and silver, horns catching the light. His eyes moved ove
Bent Over by the Demon LordChapter 1They sent me as tribute.That was the word the village elders used—tribute. A softer way of saying sacrifice. The Demon Lord of the Black Spire had demanded a living offering in exchange for sparing our lands another season of raids. I was twenty, unclaimed, and the only one with enough latent magic in my blood to satisfy the terms. So they dressed me in white, bound my wrists with silver-threaded rope, and delivered me to the foot of the mountain like livestock.I told myself I would fight. I told myself I would rather die than submit.I stopped believing that the moment the great black gates opened and he walked out.Lord Veythar was taller than any human man I had ever seen. Broad-shouldered, pale-skinned, with long black hair that fell past his shoulders and eyes the color of burning coals. Dark horns curved back from his temples. A long coat of black leather and silver hung open over a bare chest marked with old scars and glowing crimson rune
Chapter 1: Caught in the ActThe bass from Jordan’s speakers thumped through the walls as I slipped out of his room, heart hammering like a damn traitor. The party downstairs was still raging—cheap beer, shitty EDM, and too many people crammed into his parents’ living room. But I wasn’t going back
Chapter 4: Shadows and Surrender The crack outside the cabin window jolted me awake before dawn, my body still sore and marked from Damien’s relentless claiming the night before. I lay tangled in the heavy blankets, his arm draped possessively over my waist, his breath warm against my neck. For a
Chapter 3: Cabin Fever The family cabin loomed ahead like a trap wrapped in pine trees and fresh snow. Mom and Dad had insisted on the weekend getaway to bond us all together, but they bailed at the last minute with some excuse about a work emergency back in the city. Convenient. Or maybe suspicio
Chapter 2: Bound by the Secret The flash from Damien’s phone burned behind my eyelids long after he lowered the device. My knees still ached against the basement carpet, my lips felt swollen and raw, and the taste of him lingered on my tongue like a brand I could not wash away. I stared up at him,







