Shackled The Lord Series Pdf Novels & Stories

“I was hoping you would do that. This is a telescopic bar. It can elongate but will not shorten unless you know where to push.” I started panicking. I was immobilized with my legs spread wide—an invitation for my tormentor. Suddenly, someone knocked on the door. I stiffened. The dark lord moved closer, pulled the sheets from under me, and covered me with them. “Don’t be afraid,” he said with that same smirk on his face as he walked to the door.

In the next moment, she was staring at his dark eyes with her legs going weak and fragile under her. “Don't make me wait, or you're going to regret it,“ his voice was twice as harsh as Freya remembered. She trembled at that moment and only managed to calm down after reassuring herself that this was all a bad dream that she was soon going to wake up from. The Lord then shifted his gaze to the Priest and he came back to standing in front of the table. The priest blesses the couples' union and starts to ask while inadvertently avoiding the Lord's gaze: “Lord Dra—” he pauses from a groan from the Lord, and Freya immediately gets a hold on the fact that “The Lord” didn't want the priest to mentio

I stretch, reaching my hands above my head and rotating my neck, hearing the ever so familiar crack as it releases the tension look down and see the familiar shine of silver around my wrists, and I sigh. It's been six years since that day, and only mere weeks after the incident, these shackles were put on as punishment. I'm bound with silver, which has over time, locked away my wolf side - including the consciousness of my wolf, Seles. It's been ages since I could hear her in my mind, and I've missed the company of her every single second. We worked so hard to be what we were, and now we've been reduced to nothing because I failed to protect the Alpha and Luna.

“Mr. Grant, the tissues in your wife’s arm are about to die completely. Are you sure you still want to hide this from her and swap her medication out for vitamins?” Behind the door was Adam Grant’s private doctor, and he was tentatively cautioning against this idea against the regal man standing in front of him. “Ever since you plotted to have Mrs. Grant’s arm injured, she could hardly pick up a pen and draw. Miss Warma has already replaced her as a famous artist, and you’re still unwilling to treat her arm?”

“Commissioned by your ancestors when they still believed in containment over catastrophe.” He stepped toward me with the shackle in hand. Instinct flared—run, fight, bolt—but the room was too small, the door too solid, the camera too present. “And now,” he said softly, “they’ll do what they were always meant to do.” He held the shackle poised over my right wrist, the etched runes catching the overhead light. “Hold still, Princess,” he said.

Shadow creatures poured through the breach, followed by something that made my soul recoil in terror. A Shadow Lord strode into the chamber, its form shifting between dimensions. Behind it walked a familiar figure that made my heart sink. Lord Ravenclaw, but not as we had last seen him. His body was wreathed in shadow magic, his eyes glowing with borrowed power. "Did you really think it would be that simple?" he asked, his voice layered with unnatural harmonics. "That you could perform your little ritual without interference?" "Ravenclaw," Prince Kael snarled. "You should be dead."

Out of nowhere, a bone arrow sliced through the air and struck his chest with a sharp hiss. The arrow, upon contact with Jim's blood, glowed a sinister red. His face contorted in pain, and suddenly, his grip failed him as he plummeted from the sky. I dashed forward, my heart racing, and leaped to cover Jim with my body. The Haunts erupted into mocking laughter. "Jim, we've taken apart the bones of the mortal who wanted you dead and crafted them into these arrows. Take one more step and we'll pin you down in front of your own troops!"

Unbearably still. Lucas Aurelius doesn’t waste time. “You and my son are circling each other like wolves,” he says, folding one leg over the other. “And wolves without order… tear the pack apart.” I swallow hard. “I don’t know what you mean...” “Don’t lie.” A soft voice. A gentle warning. Somehow more terrifying. His gaze slides down to the envelope on the coffee table the one I thought I had tucked away in my drawer this morning. The one containing my marriage contract.

I had paid a fortune to the witch coven for this parchment. The ancient rule was absolute: a pact between a thrall and their master could only be broken by the master's own blood. Before he could even look at the parchment, his phone rang. Ophelia’s panicked crying came through the speaker. "Bastian! My castle’s wards are broken! A rival clan is attacking! I’m so scared!" Bastian tensed up instantly, pure concern in his eyes as he stood up. "Don’t panic. I’m on my way."

Together, we are stronger. The warriors advance, their eyes locked on me, but I refuse to back down. I channel my energy, feeling it surge through my veins. The shackles begin to loosen, and I can sense the fear in their eyes. “See? I told you she has potential,” the General says, a hint of surprise in his voice. “Stop doing this!” I cry, my voice breaking with desperation. The grip of the invisible shackles tightens around me, squeezing the breath from my lungs. I can feel my wolf stirring within, and my eyes begin to glow, a fierce light igniting in the depths of my gaze.