Crimson Hunters 40k

When Avelina Salazar's father, the Alpha of the Crimson Hounds pack, is brutally murdered before her eyes by her own uncles, whom she never heard of to this date, Avelina is thrown into a twisted game of power, secrets, and fate. Trapped under the sinister rules of her father's killers, Matteo Augustus and Dante Romano, Avelina Salazar discovers that she is destined to be their mate, forever branded with the dark shadow of their clan's tradition. But Avelina is not one to accept her fate without a fight. As she unravels the mysteries behind her mother's death, the clan's secrets, and the true intentions of the Alphas, Avelina is forced to confront the brutal truth of her family's history and rethink her choices, what her eyes see and what her brain believes, especially when her pure blood makes the enemies chase her and danger lurks around every corner. ***** "You seem to have forgotten the rules, Avelina," Dante's voice reverberated in the dark as he stood behind me, his lips brushing against my neck, "Perhaps it's time we refresh your memory." A surge of vulnerability coursed through my veins, but I refused to succumb. My breath trembled, my palms perspired, yet with defiance in my eyes, I spat, "I don't give a fuck about your so-called rules." "Then start giving a fuck, Princess," Matteo hissed, gripping my jaw tightly and bringing his face dangerously close to mine, our lips inches apart, "Or else, you'll face the consequences." They repulsed me, yet a forbidden desire remained. "I'm not afraid." A wicked smirk adorned Dante's lips, while a sinister chuckle escaped Matteo's mouth, "Let's take you to the torture cell then. Your untouched body will make for a beautiful plaything." I drew in a quiet breath-The torture cell was no good news.

I'm the Alpha King's daughter. When I was 16, my father chose four werewolves as my future mate candidates. They are from the affiliate packs and have Alpha blood running through them. When Dad was gravely injured, he asked me who among them I wanted to be my mate. After giving it much thought, I chose Leo Martinez, the werewolf with whom I was the closest, to be my lifelong mate. However, three months into our bonding, strange wounds would emerge on my body. On the other hand, my cousin, Sylvia Campbell, who sought shelter at my house, became prettier. Thereafter, I encountered various hurdles. I even failed my pack trial, for which I prepared with so much effort. But Sylvia, with skills below par, managed to join the elite Silvermoon Strike Force alongside Leo. I stayed back in the Dark Hunters pack, licking my wound. Half a year later, I encountered an ambush while on a hunt and died on the spot. After I died, my soul refused to disperse. I saw Sylvia and Leo pull out a Moon Goddess statue wrapped with thorny vines from under my bed. They laughed wickedly at my dead body. "Sylvia, thanks to your trick, we managed to cancel the Moon's blessing with the witch's curse and switched your and Elena's fates. Now, no one stands in our way. The pack is in our hands." Never would I have thought my gentle, obedient cousin and my mate whom I grew up with, would team up to harm me. When I reopen my eyes, I've returned to the day Dad asks me to choose my mate. I dig out the statue beneath my bed and thrust it into the beast enclosure. Since Sylvia loves controlling others' fate, she shall face the consequences for doing so.

***Warning: this book contains explicit content and graphical descriptions. I'll put a disclaimer on any chapter that's 18+ and note that every part of this novel is entirely fictional and will be a coincidence with anyone's*** "You're petite, feeble, and gay. All shades of wrong, and I'll crush you, Rhett." His tone is vile. "Your boner says otherwise, King Kael. I'm a chick with sharp features, full pink lips, sexy, snatched body, small waist, and I'm that dude you want riding you to cloud nine all night!" I didn't stop there. I added. "I'm that proud gay man you're too ashamed to become, and I see how you want to rip through my clothes and fuck me, but guess what? I'll never allow your homophobic ass." He was once a slave without voice or freedom, raped by his master. As if that trauma wasn't enough, he was turned into a vampire by a monster. For seven years, he resisted the transition and abstained from blood until his sister was murdered by witches. All hell broke loose, he drank her blood to take back revenge but the darkness overcame him. His tyranny birthed the Fifth Throne where he ruled with bloodlust and spite... but when a tech-nerd, proud gay man stumbles into his world, an obsession arises. Rhett is everything he despises: unapologetic, troublesome, and accepting of his sexuality. However, when Rhett's life is entangled in a supernatural war between vampires, witches, and hunters, the Vampire King must protect him. But how does one love a man who claims he doesn't love men? Who would rather kill you than kiss you? And what happens when that man starts craving your touch more than blood? In a world full of monsters, such bond doesn't go without spiralling a brutal war.

I never should have let my mother hold my future hostage. She paid my tuition with his father’s money. Locked my birth certificate, my transcripts, every scrap of paper I need to survive in a safe I’ll never open. And the one thing I had left of my dad, his old watch, she dangled like a noose. Run, and I lose my education. Fight, and I lose the last piece of the man who actually loved me. So I moved into the Hunters’ mansion. Into the lair of the boy who spent years making my life hell. Chase Hunter. Six-foot-five of pure venom wrapped in muscle and money. The senior who cornered me in empty hallways, who whispered filth in my ear just to watch me flinch, who smiled that sharp, cruel smile every time I broke a little more. I thought graduation meant freedom from him. I was wrong. Now he’s my stepbrother. He hates that I’m here. Hates my mother for sinking her claws into his father. Hates me most of all, for breathing his air, for walking his halls, for daring to exist where he can reach me. But hate isn’t clean anymore. It’s tangled up in heat. In the way his grey eyes strip me bare every time they land on me, the way his hand closes around my throat, not to hurt, but to own. In the way he punishes me over his lap, in his car, against walls, until I’m shaking and soaked and furious at myself for wanting more. He calls me Little Lamb, I call him every name I can think of under my breath. How long until we stop fighting the deadly inferno raging between us and finally let it consume us both?