Novelas web de Drama e historias de God of War ambientadas en Forbidden Love

"You asked me to save you!" "Because only you could." "Then why do you want to kill me?" "Because I need your blood to replenish." He said firmly. Mariah started dreaming about a strange man on her sixteenth birthday. For over a century, this very man kept appearing in her dream and when she was a hundred and seventeen years old, he finally told her where to find him. Filled with curiosity about this not so stranger, she went with her brother to find him but who would have prepared her for what was in store for her when she eventually found him? Not only did he almost kill her brother, he was hell bent on killing her too. King Alaric had been buried alive for over ten thousand years and he had spent the years hovering in people's dreams to find the one that can save him. When he eventually did, he was shocked that she was none other than his mate. However, knowing who his enemies were, he can't afford to dwell in romance and so wants nothing more than to kill her and use her blood to energize himself.

With the rage he carried with him, Anthony would avenge the kingdom he once loved. He will do it for his King and those people he knew just minutes ago. His bravery sends him through time and space, feeling everything at once. Anthony cannot get the image of that forbidden love out of his dreams while he slept, on the way to "speak" to the King of Blood.

I died with my husband's betrayal on my lips and my unborn child in my womb. One moment I was Mia Weston — billionaire, wife, mother-to-be. The next, I was gone. Erased. Traded like a chess piece by the man who swore to love me forever. Then I woke up. Silk sheets. Marble walls. A maid calling me "My Lady." And a father I had never met looking me dead in the eyes saying — "You have been promised to King Zyren of the Draconis Throne. You leave at sunrise." I thought I was dreaming. I was wrong. King Zyren is not a man. He is ancient, ruthless, and devastatingly beautiful in the way that only dangerous things are. He doesn't smile. He doesn't explain. He simply looks at me like I am something he has been waiting for — and that look alone makes my whole body tremble. He calls me his traded bride. I call him my nightmare. But nightmares don't look at you like you are the only breathable air in a burning room. Nightmares don't press you against cold stone walls and whisper "You will learn your place, little human" with a voice so deep it rewrites your bones. And nightmares definitely don't make you forget — even for one dangerous, breathless second — the man who killed you. I was sold to settle a debt. He had waited centuries for exactly me. Neither of us was prepared for what came next.