Born To Rule Novels & Stories

And if the young woman fails to get pregnant, she would be replaced and never given any chance to get penetrated again. Not once more, not ever. "We can get memories that there's something called chiefs, kings and so many others. I would advise we use such terms for easy identification." Glancing over the elders, my father stood up. "And who do you think would be who?" "You're born a ruler, Rofas. Take the highest title and pass the lower ones to anyone you think is fit to be given the mantle."

Mine was the fifth generation to reach senior year. The families took an oath that Rochester was safe ground for those who studied and trained to work or rule the family business. For each family, the ruler was chosen by birthright. I’m the oldest Brambilla heir and hold the future in my hands or for a better explanation, my dick. My job is to also make an heir, preferably a male born first. I couldn’t change destiny and I’d be fucking damned if I wanted to. Let me make it very clear, I don’t. What I’ve done is break Rochester’s golden rules and enjoyed it. There are tons of rules here but only two could get you kicked out of the academy.

"I don’t want silence. I want memory." She looked directly at the core lens. "To the families still clinging to lineage. To the cities still ruled by surnames. To the ghost-kings hiding behind legacies they didn’t earn..." "Listen." She walked slowly, letting every step echo. "No more rulers born from blood. No more thrones passed down like weapons. No more sons bred to die in their father’s war." "From this moment on, leadership is not inherited. It is earned." "There will be no more kings. Only keepers."

My father's empire controlled the financial lifelines and power of nearly every crime family in North America, its tentacles reaching across the ocean to the old-world powers of Europe. I was his sole heir. My father told me that from now on, I had to learn to be a true Romano, to be as ruthless as he was, to become the true queen of a world of power and darkness. The entire Romano kingdom, all the territories and businesses, would one day be mine. I began to study every detail of the family business. The financial empires, the trade networks, the political connections. My father's advisors taught me how to manipulate the stock market.

A crisp and loud-sounding slap echoed in the hallway. Everyone present froze and turned to stare at Mom. "Are you crazy?" Wilma shouted. "You're the crazy one! It's all you! What have you done?" Wilma sneered. "I did something?" She laughed smugly. "I'm just using the same methods to return the favor! You wanted my family's wealth and swapped my child. Can't I swap her back?" "No way!" Mom yelled back. "Back then, you had birthing complications and were bleeding heavily. There was no way you could get up and take a look!"

They accused the Crown Prince of cruelty, incompetence, and dishonor. Under intense pressure from the council, the King finally issued a decree. Ethan was stripped of his title as Crown Prince. He was sent away to rule a distant border province as Duke of Qing. He would never again return to the capital without royal permission. Meanwhile Alexander’s reputation continued to grow. Throughout the year he assisted the King with matters of state and gained the admiration of both ministers and generals. At the end of the year I gave birth to a son—the King’s first grandson. The King was overjoyed.

But the map her mother spread before her ,a careful copy drawn from memory . This land has been in our bloodline since before the Council existed, before pack law, before the structures they built to control what we are. What lies beneath it is older than all of it. Eira had studied the shaded region her mother had returned to again and again, the pen strokes darker, more certain. What’s in it? Her mother had weighed how much to reveal and how much to protect. Something that amplifies what we are. The True line. There are people who have spent years erasing our line. That is why your grandfather is gone, why your uncle never reached thirty, why I have spent twelve years teaching you to be sm

No one would dare refuse me when I finally claimed my birthright to the Elven throne. Mine. It had always been mine. Direct heir to the king. Firstborn. Son. Strong. Clever. Fearless. Everything expected of the ruler who should have followed him. So yes. I would rule both realms. The elves—my brothers and sisters—would live as they always claimed they wished to live. Devoted to spirit. Justice. Truth. And the werewolves would finally occupy the place suited to them. Servants. Soldiers. Labor. A lesser race serving those born above them.

Could that tiny spark inside me really have saved my life? "Wait..." I stammered, shaking my head as I tried to process his words. "Rule? What do you mean, 'destined to rule'?" Valerius looked out toward the dark, rain-slicked window, his jaw tight. "The ancient texts speak of a ruler who will not just sit on the Lycan throne. The legend says a child will be born who will force every realm, every noble house, every Alpha, and every King to kneel. A child who will unite all lands under one absolute rule."

Meant to submit and breed and nothing else. Jayvyn is Omega. Crown Prince in title only. Unwanted son of a dead concubine. Kept alive for political marriages. Abused by everyone. This body has been tortured for twenty-two years. Jay's survival instincts—honed in corporate boardrooms, sharpened by a lifetime of fighting for scraps of his father's approval—kicked in. He stopped fighting the hands holding him down. The grip loosened. Just slightly. Just enough. Jay upward with every ounce of strength this new body had. Water streamed from his hair as he twisted, drove his elbow back hard. Connected with something soft.