Lahat ng Kabanata ng BOUND TO HER WILL: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Chapter One The Woman Who Breaks Men Two hundred years, and not a single one had tasted different. Ronan Lucien Thorne stood at the edge of his territory, arms crossed over his chest, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers — unlit. He didn’t smoke. He just liked the burn between his teeth. The illusion of control. Of choice. The trees were still. The night wind cold. The world kept turning, and still he was here. Unchanged. Unmoved. Unfucking fulfilled. Sex was a game to him now. A joke. He could take lovers to the brink of madness and leave them begging, ruined. But the moment they tried to give anything back affection, devotion, even reverence his beast roared in protest. Every woman who’d tried to worship him had ended up tossed from his bed with trembling limbs and bruised pride. He didn’t want worship. He wanted to be taken. But no one had the teeth to do it. Until the stories started. He heard them whispered in dens and elite clubs. In dark corners of cities whe

Chapter Three Elias Ronan wasn’t the only one unsettled after the council meeting. Elias had known the alpha for over a hundred years, and in all that time, he’d never seen him come undone like that — not even when the curse first took hold and the beast threatened to rip through his skin night after night. But this…? This was different. Not rage. Not pain. Something deeper. Hungrier. Something that whispered of surrender in a man who only knew how to dominate. And that scared Elias more than any enemy at their borders. --- By nightfall, Elias sat in the war room alone, lit only by the flickering glow of a single reading lamp and the blue cast of his laptop screen. He’d tracked countless threats in his time — rogue packs, witch clans, corrupted shamans. But tonight, he was searching for a woman. Talia Elowen. That was the name Ronan had dropped almost reluctantly — after the meeting. It wasn’t her real name, Elias assumed. Dominatrices rarely operated under them. Still, it

Talia The scent of leather, candle wax, and jasmine clung to the air like silk draped over steel. Talia moved through the darkened halls of Velvet Nocturne barefoot, quiet as smoke, her heels dangling from two fingers as she listened to the silence breathe. Night still hummed against the windows - soft, wet, alive - but inside, everything was still. Obedient. As it should be. She paused at the threshold of her private room, fingers ghosting over the antique handle before pushing it open. The space inside was warm, dim, painted in shadows and low amber light. A single candle burned on the mantle, its flame steady, casting soft flickers over the padded cross, the ropes, the polished black table she favored when she didn’t want to speak at all. Her sanctuary. Her edge. Her mirror. She liked the quiet after a session. The way the air still held traces of her voice. The echo of power. The weight of release. But tonight… it lingered differently. He had lingered differently. Talia exh

Elias The bass throbbed through the soles of his boots. Velvet Nocturne wasn’t just a club it was a temple for the broken, the powerful, and the ones who knew exactly what they needed. Elias had seen many things in his time gods fall, monsters rise, women destroy empires with nothing but a glance but nothing prepared him for the raw control this woman commanded. He leaned against the dark-paneled wall, watching her. Talia. She wasn’t on stage. She didn’t need to be. Just the whisper of her name had submissives shifting on their knees, yearning for her attention like moths to an erotic flame. She was dressed in sleek black, leather gloves pulled up to her elbows, and a crop balanced lazily in her hand. Her expression was unreadable calm, detached, and dominant in a way Elias couldn’t define. But more than her beauty, it was the energy around her. It was almost… celestial. Like watching a force that didn’t belong to this world move through flesh and bone. And that was the par

Ronan The night air bit against his skin, sharp and clean, but it did nothing to clear his head. Not even the wind howling like the beast inside him could drown out the echo of her voice. "On your knees." He'd obeyed without hesitation. Not because of instinct. Not even because of lust. But because something inside him had snapped—not in rebellion, but in surrender. Ronan Thorne, Alpha of the Vrykal pack. Cursed, feared, half-legend. And yet, all it took was one woman with a gaze like a blade and a voice like a collar... and he had fallen. He raked a hand through his hair and leaned against the stone railing outside the council chamber, jaw clenched tight enough to crack. The scent of sage and old paper still clung to his coat an aftertaste of his tense debrief with the elders. They hadn’t understood. How could they? They saw a man unraveling. He saw something far more dangerous: Hope. She could control him. He hadn’t felt peace like that—submission like that—in centuries. N