LOGINKiara Crossman spent her life believing she was a mistake — a half-breed hidden among humans, orphaned by tragedy, and fated to stay in the shadows. But when her grandmother reveals the truth about her parents’ deaths, Kiara returns to the kingdom of Narcolantis not as a girl — but as a storm waiting to strike. Working undercover in the Alpha’s palace, Kiara only wants answers. What she finds instead is Ryden Fall — the cold, commanding Alpha whose touch she loathes… and craves. As secrets rise and her own power awakens, Kiara must embrace the beast within her — the one the world thought extinct. But the truth is darker than she imagined. Her fated mate is the man who used her. Her enemies wear crowns. And the blood in her veins is the key to a war that never ended.
View MoreKiara My legs were numb. Every breath I took sent a dull ache through my ribs. Dried blood cracked on my forearm, and mud had crusted over my boots and knees. My hair had come loose from its braid, tangling in damp strands across my face and neck, half-soaked from the river we'd crossed earlier. Everything hurt. Even blinking felt like a chore. The door to my chamber groaned open as I stumbled inside. Cold air collided with warm steam. A bath had been drawn in the marble tub carved into the corner of the room, steam curling like fingers into the dim air. The scent of clove and lavender wrapped around me, heady and comforting. Ryden must have sent someone ahead. Of course he had. He really didn't know how to take a hint. The door slammed shut behind me, rattling the hinges. I didn’t bother locking it. What was the point? If they wanted to find me, they would. They always did. Each step toward the washbasin sent sharp, splintering pain through my side. My sleeping dress clung
Kiara We ran. And we ran. No plan, no direction, just raw instinct pushing our legs forward. Through the dark, through the pain, through the mess of brambles that clawed at our skin. We ran like it was the only thing left that made sense. I'd lost my mismatched boots at some point. Branches tore at our skin. Sharp thorns tore at our bare legs and ankles, and more than once, one of the girls tripped and fell. But no one stayed down for long. We had no time for pain. No time for questions. Only forward. The voices were distant now, the men's shouting, the barking of the dogs, the crashing of undergrowth. But still, we didn’t stop. My lungs burned, and I knew the others were barely holding on, but we pushed harder. The night was thick and wild, the moon offering just enough light to guide us forward. Sweat stung the cuts on my face and legs, my breath catching in harsh bursts. And yet, even through the exhaustion, I felt it. A pulse. Aurex. "Mira," Serapha gasped behi
Kiara Consciousness returned like an unwelcome guest - first as a dull throbbing behind my eyes, then as the bitter taste of bile at the back of my throat. I lay perfectly still, taking inventory of my body the way I had been taught while I was at the Alpha's war camp. Toes? Could wiggle. Fingers? Stiff but functional. Ribs? Ached with each shallow breath, but nothing felt broken. The cold came next - not the crisp chill of morning, but the deep, damp cold of earth that never saw sunlight. It seeped through my clothes, pressed against the bare skin where my tunic had ridden up during the fall. My left cheek rested in something wet and vaguely metallic-smelling. Blood, probably. Mine or someone else's, I couldn't tell yet. Then the silence. Not peaceful. Not natural. The kind of silence that comes when the forest itself holds its breath, when even the insects stop their buzzing to witness something terrible. I didn't open my eyes. Beside me, Cressa's breathing was so shallow
Kiara One heartbeat didn’t belong. Then two. Then five. The moment I slammed the sanctum door shut behind me, those heartbeats echoed in my ears like war drums. Not loud but sharp, rhythmic, and wrong. Each one pulsed out of tune, out of time. Foreign. Unwelcome. Unnatural. There were thirteen. My boots struck stone with every step, each footfall reverberating louder than the last as I tore through the palace’s underbelly. My chest burned from cold air and raw exertion, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. The memory of what I’d just seen lingered like poison: journals with blood crusted in their bindings, surgical tools gleaming with dried crimson, and the tanks. Those awful, humming tanks filled with suspended bodies. Children. Dragon-born. Altered, broken, twisted. Transformed against their will. Subjects. And now, the heartbeats. Thirteen of them, moving through the castle’s veins when there should’ve been none. No guards, no staff. Ryden had ordered the Dollhouse
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