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Chased by Sorin through neon-lit Vegas, Dawn’s uncontrolled light magic crackles in desperation. She slips past the ward that hides a magical realm and crashes into the Black Pistons motorcycle club’s territory. The club is led by twin alpha dragons, Riku and Rain, who have vowed against mating. Dawn’s arrival ignites an unexpected bond: Riku flirts, teasing her with warmth and guidance, while Rain, the colder brother, distances himself despite an undeniable draw. Offered shelter and protection, Dawn steps into a world of dragonfire and the shadow of a dark wizard who promises safety if she stops running. Rain’s distrust of Dawn’s magic leads him to impose strict rules while Riku encourages her to explore her power. Sorin infiltrates the ward, probing defenses and leaving Dawn shaken. A midnight ride under desert stars ends with an almost-kiss as Riku’s warmth contrasts Rain’s questions that reveal his inner conflict. During a training session Riku teaches her to channel light magic through touch, sparking an intimate moment abruptly interrupted by Sorin’s attack. As dreams twist under Malachar’s promises, Dawn finds herself torn between the twins’ opposing teachings when Rain, rescues her from danger. Jealousy and desire fracture their trio when Dawn admits to a bond with both brothers. Riku’s teasing hides tender devotion, while Rain’s hesitation dissolves as he tends to her wounds with touches. In a moonlit orchard their passion ignites until Rain’s sudden arrival sparks tension. Malachar’s emissary breaches the ward bearing a sigil, forcing the twins and Dawn into battle. Dragonfire and light magic merge in a display of unity that scatters their foe. In the aftermath adrenaline fuels an moment where neither brother claims her outright, their unclaimed bond shimmering with danger and undeniable promise.

"I love it when you say my name, printsessa, how long has it been? Two-" "Three years." I snap unintentionally wishing I could take the words back. A sly grinspreads across his angelic-looking face, "You've been counting." He states in a cocky tone. I place my hands flat on his chest, and I shove him away. "Still a cocky son of a bitch I see." I hiss, hating the way he makes my body burn with fever. Slowly panting through my parted lips, I realise that he is shirtless, his gold skin and sinuous muscle put on full display for my eyes to feast upon. His eyes look darker than I remember, smouldering with carnal intent. The perfect curve of his lips etches with cruelty. He's so hot with lust and anger that it should be a crime. He's sin in human form and he makes me want to be a sinner. "And you're still a stuck-up printsessa holding a grudge." He snarls, throwing his hands in the air --- Today was meant to be one of the happiest days of my life. Today, I was turning twenty-one and everyone whom I love dearly has shown up to celebrate it with me. Including the one man in my life who should be off-limits; forbidden. Things quickly turn sour, the air smells of death, gun powder, and vengeance. CAUSING my heart to still with fear, loss, and panic. When I realise the one man I vowed to hate forever, is the one person I can rely on to keep me safe. I must build a wall around my heart, and pray like fuck, that he doesn't break through it. My name is Zeynep Volkov, and this is my story about survival, deception and a love triangle that no one saw coming.

A week after I gave birth via C-section, Mark Whitman invited his friends over to celebrate the birth of our son. The crowd was boisterous—more than a dozen people. Not one of them bothered to remove their dirty shoes. The wooden floor was soon covered in muddy footprints. Mark came into the room and, without a hint of concern, ordered me out of bed. "Everyone's waiting outside. Don't just hide here and rest—you're embarrassing me in front of our guests." I had no choice but to push through the pain, forcing my body to prepare a huge meal for the large crowd, all on my own. When I carried the final bowl of steaming soup to the table, Lily Hoyte—whether intentionally or not—jabbed her hand against the wound on my abdomen. My hand trembled from the sudden pain, and the bowl slipped slightly, spilling the hot soup onto Lily's shoes. Mark's face darkened instantly. "What the heck did you do, Cammy? Lily rushed here right after her plane landed from overseas to see our son, and this is how you treat her?" The crowd quickly chimed in. "Come on, Cammy, no need to be so petty." "Mark and Lily grew up together. If there was really something between them, do you think you'd even be here now?" "Do you even know how much those shoes cost? They're limited edition—easily over ten thousand dollars. And you just ruined them." Lily stood up awkwardly, her eyes misting with tears. "If Cammy doesn't like me," she said softly, "then I'll leave. I don't want to be a bother." But Mark grabbed her hand in an exaggerated display of protection, his voice harsh as he turned to me. "Wipe Lily's shoes clean. Right now." His partiality for Lily made something sharp twist in my chest. My lips quivered as I fought back tears. "The wound on my stomach hasn't healed yet. I can't bend over." At that, his expression grew colder. "Don't use childbirth as an excuse. If you can't bend over, then kneel and wipe them. And if you won't, get out of my house!"

I was known all throughout high society as the perfect, obedient daughter. Suitors lined up at my door in droves, yet I insisted on marrying Grayson Thatcher, whose family fortune had crumbled, all because of a promise we made when we were young. I thought we would be partners building a life together, but he fell deeply in love with his childhood sweetheart, a girl who spent her days running wild. The night before our wedding, he went street racing with her and they both got arrested, causing him to miss the ceremony entirely. The scandal made it everywhere. On New Year's Eve, he left me to organize the family banquet alone while he ran off with his childhood sweetheart to some crowded plaza. To see a different display of fireworks, they set fire to balloons people had released into the sky and triggered a massive blaze. Once again, I exhausted every connection I had to get him out of the mess. I cleaned up 999 of his reckless mistakes and kept the Thatcher family's business afloat, making sure he could live without a care in the world. I thought that eventually, he would at least remember some small part of what we meant to each other. Yet when I fell critically ill and needed a heart transplant, he took the only available donor heart and gave it to his childhood sweetheart instead. That was the first time I broke down and demanded answers. He stared at me, cold and unmoved. "You have the nerve to ask me that? If you hadn't forced yourself on me, I would've gotten together with Maeve years ago. You're as stiff as an old lady. How could you ever compare to someone like her? She's full of life. "I've let you play Mrs. Thatcher for over a decade. I was more than generous. Maeve is going to be my wife now. When she dies, we'll be buried together. You won't even get that much." I died consumed by bitterness and rage. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the matchmaking event. I picked up the marriage proposal the Thatchers had sent and tore it to pieces. Then, I reached for the one from the wealthiest family in the room and smiled. "Dad, if I have to get married anyway, I might as well marry the man with the most money and power."