All Chapters of Fated To The Lycan King And His Brother : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Roisin “I have a surprise for you,” Olivine said, his voice low and smooth, laced with a strange intensity that made my skin prickle.I blinked, caught off guard by the gleam in his eyes. “A surprise?” I managed, laughing a little. “You’re being… mysterious.”A dark grin spread across his face. “Some surprises need a touch of mystery,” he said, reaching into his pocket to pull out a length of black silk. “But I’ll need you to trust me.”I stared at the blindfold, an unsettling tension twisting in my stomach. I had done this before with Olivine—games, surprises. He liked to take the lead, always with that charming arrogance, but something about today felt different. “What’s with the blindfold?”“Just trust me,” he said, his tone coaxing but firm. He stepped closer, and before I could say anything else, he lifted the silk to cover my eyes, tying it securely at the back of my head. The world went dark.I felt his hand slip into mine, and he started guiding me forward. Blindfolded, I was

Roisin One night, Visaris and I found ourselves alone in the library, surrounded by shadows cast by the soft, flickering candlelight. The space between us vanished in seconds as he stepped close, his hand cupping my face with a tenderness that still felt electric. When his lips brushed against mine, I felt a rush of warmth spreading through me—a feeling that was both exhilarating and grounding, igniting a deep-seated need.Our kiss deepened, and his hands moved down, finding my waist, pressing me firmly against him. I could feel the tension in his fingers, as though he was holding back, careful even in his intensity. His mouth left mine, trailing heat down my neck, his breath sending shivers along my skin. A gasp escaped me as his hands slid along my back, pulling me closer until every inch of me was pressed against him.Visaris' hand cupped my face gently, his thumb brushing over my cheek, his gaze intense but warm. He leaned in again, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that was both g

OlivineThe day I met Visaris for the first time was etched into my mind as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. I had practiced for it, planned every detail in my head, rehearsing the exact smile I would give him, the careful, calculated warmth I would show. I had been ready to win him over, to make him see me as his friend, as a loyal brother.But when I finally stood before him, Visaris barely spared me a glance. He was older, taller, his posture straight and proud, every bit the son of a king. He looked at me with a kind of cool detachment, as if I were nothing more than another face in the crowd. And then, without a word, he turned his back on me and walked away.I could still feel the humiliation of that moment, the silent rage simmering beneath my skin. No one had ever dared to treat me with such disregard, not even Theodore. But Visaris… Visaris didn’t even acknowledge me as a threat. To him, I was invisible. Insignificant.From that moment on, I knew my place in the palac

Olivine TW: Violence, brutality.Releasing her arms, I turned, reaching for the hammer I’d brought for this ritual. Her defiance deserved nothing less than a brutal end. In one smooth motion, I brought the hammer down hard against her ankle, feeling the bone shatter beneath the impact. Her scream filled the chamber, tearing through the silence, raw and unrestrained. It was the sound of pure agony. Her body convulsed with the pain, but I wasn’t done.I lifted the hammer again, this time bringing it down on her other ankle. Another crack, another scream, her body jolting violently as her voice broke, the cry tearing through the stale air of the chamber, almost drowning out the sound of her bones shattering.Her spirit should’ve broken then, should’ve given in, but somehow, impossibly, she began to crawl, dragging herself across the floor. Blood smeared beneath her, a trail of red staining the stone as her fingers clawed forward, trying to grip the floor, to pull herself even a few inch

Olivine The nights had been anything but kind to me. Sleep had become an uneasy truce, bought only through heavy doses of sedatives to fend off the hauntings that began the night I spilled Azmariah's blood on the altar. Every time I closed my eyes, her face emerged, bloodied and battered, whispering curses that burrowed into my bones. Her eyes, wide and unyielding even as her life drained away, had been seared into my mind, her spirit hanging over me, unshakable, relentless. Her silent accusation echoed in every empty corner, a reminder that she clung to me, haunting my every thought. I had done everything in my power to escape her memory, but each night, as I drifted off, she was there, waiting.It was only in the moments after I swallowed a fistful of pills that I found any semblance of peace, allowing me the clarity to pursue my goals—goals that Azmariah's death should have made possible. And so, I tolerated the dreams, the hollow places they carved into my mind, because I knew t