Fanfiction Overlord Novels & Stories

Alexander answered. He put his hands on Caiden and made him look at him, “Listen to me carefully. The Overlord Council is looking for a reason to dethrone my father and promote an upcoming lord because my father is still from the older generation, and when he turned my father into a vampire, my father was impossible to manage and caused a lot of trouble. Then the two of them had me.”

“You rejected her. You walked away. What makes you think you can storm in here like some conqueror and drag her off?” Riven stepped forward, close enough that Vesper had to tilt her head to meet his eyes. “Because I’m Alpha now. And she’s Omega. Weak. Unclaimed. She’ll be my slave. It’s more than she deserves after whoring herself out here.” The word hit like a punch. I gripped the doorframe, nails digging into wood. Slave. Not even concubine anymore. Just… nothing. Vesper laughed—sharp, unafraid. “You think your title scares me? I’ve seen bigger wolves than you whimper and crawl away.”

That was the speech they gave at orientation every year. The reality was simpler. Fifty years ago, vampires won the war. Not by a little — by a lot. They had powers we couldn't match -- lifespans that outlasted all shifters, and superpowers that let one vampire warrior easily defeat many shifter warriors. When the shifter packs finally gathered together and begged for a truce, the vampires' price was simple: we submit. One vampire lord rules all. In exchange, we live. Damon's grandfather had made that deal. His father enforced it now. And Damon would inherit all of it.

Way worse. I’d seen how his men treated us already. If this is how the soldiers acted, kicking girls around and calling us bitches and sluts, then their king had to be ten times meaner. Rumors said he was immortal and nothing under the sun could kill him. What chance did I have against that? At least with a regular alpha there was a tiny sliver, maybe one percent, that I could fight back, maybe even kill him in his sleep if I got lucky. But the king? No. I’d rather take my chances with one of his hunters than end up alone in a room with that monster.

But he, of course, wasn’t the one that birthed him. Even if he had been a woman, he wouldn't have birthed Alarick. Because the Warlord had to be on field, he also couldn’t afford to be hurt or die easily. It could be the death of their empire. So their family came from a legacy of children born by frost giants from a warlord’s blood. If the child was born a woman, the giants took her away. If it was a man and human, he would be the next Warlord.

"You think this is your room? You think those silk sheets belong to you?" She stopped right in front of me, entirely invading my space. She was taller than me, staring down her perfect nose with absolute, sickening superiority. "Let me tell you a little secret about Warlords, little Omega," Selene whispered, her eyes flashing with cruelty. "They are beasts. They get bored. When Cillian came to my bed last night, he was so exhausted. He complained to me for an hour about the whiny, feral little Silvermoon rat he had to lock in a tower just to keep the castle smelling clean."

“Upsilon Michael Wolfie, ma'am.” “I’m Omega Anna Warren.” “I know. But I believe we have an unsettled debt.” “What do you mean?” As his stare was now on my body, I crossed my arms over my chest. “What?” “Still feisty as you used to be.” He caught my chin and touched it. “So soft. I want to taste you again.” I immediately jerked myself out of his grasp. “What?! You must be out of your mind. Leave!” “Not yet! Before I get what I want.”

The floor seemed to tilt,just slightly, just enough to make the world shift an inch. I knew about curses, in fragments. I’d heard the whispers as a pup and the harsher versions as an omega: kings who broke before they found their mates, kings who tore their courts apart on blood moons because the power had nowhere to ground itself. I had wondered why I hadn’t felt Rowan’s wolf earlier, I had thought perhaps he had kept himself hidden to perfect the disguise. Two nights, she said. My palm throbbed beneath the clean bandage, as if my body recognized the date and disapproved of what it might entail.