Smoke Symbolism

In Alabama’s rot-soaked bayous, Drucilla Drakes survives by three rules: silence, scars, and never letting Louise—her Bible-thumping captor—catch her hoping. But when a schoolyard ambush leaves her bleeding beneath a stranger’s leather jacket, invisibility becomes a death sentence. Enter Dragon Morales: New Orleans’ most notorious runaway, a cartel prince turned outlaw mechanic with grease-stained hands and a death wish. He doesn’t save people—he survives them. Yet in Dru’s lashed flesh and hellfire gaze, he sees his own shattered reflection. Their bond is gasoline and matches. Dragon’s father—Colombia’s cartel kingpin—hunts them relentlessly. Louise, armed with voodoo rites and the chaos-hungry loa Marinette, vows to break Dru. Their only allies? The Lou Nwa, a bayou biker gang trading in bullets and black magic, and Papa Legba, the crossroads spirit who offers Dru a lethal bargain: *“Her soul or yours.”* Fleeing through the Deep South’s cursed underbelly, they dodge cartel hitmen, haunted swamps, and safehouses reeking of betrayal. Dark magic seeps into old wounds; family secrets tighten like nooses. Dragon swears he’s too ruined to love. Dru knows she’s too shattered to trust. But in the bayou’s choking heat, desire is a grenade they can’t outrun. This isn’t a fairytale. It’s switchblade kisses and saintly curses—a collision of fire and ruin where protectors become predators. Dru doesn’t need saving; she needs an inferno. And Dragon? He’s got a lighter and nothing left to burn. Will they raze the South to ashes, or become the sacrifice the crossroads demands? One truth remains: in the bayou, even survival leaves scars. **Warning:** No princes here. Just bayou smoke, blood-soaked magic, and the kind of love that devours.

A forgotten bite. A fake bond. A power no wolf was meant to command. Twelve years ago, Kira watched her home burn under a blood moon. Smoke in her lungs. A mother’s scarf in her hand. And a golden-eyed boy who bit her—not to mark her, but to silence her. He told her to stay quiet. To wait. Then he left. Now, Kira is back. Not to forgive. Not to forget. But to survive. To infiltrate the pack that destroyed her people. To find the boy who abandoned her and burn his world from the inside. But things have changed. That boy is now Alpha Ronan Vale—cold, ruthless, untouchable. When Kira is captured during the sacred Pack Trial, the Council calls for her execution. Ronan claims her instead, announcing a trial mating bond that isn’t real. At least… it’s not supposed to be. As secrets unravel and an ancient power stirs in her blood, Kira discovers she’s not just an omega. She’s something the world thought extinct—a Royal Omega, born to command alphas and destroy empires. And the fake bond? It starts to feel terrifyingly real. But the past has claws. The Council has plans. And someone is still hunting her—someone who once paid a killer to make sure she never lived long enough to be chosen. The bond was a lie. Until it wasn’t.

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ This book contains feral mate bonds, primal claiming, blood-soaked org*sms, and possessive men who do not share well but are about to learn they have too as the first Triad mate bond in millenniums though just to be a myth is about to tie them all together. If the words “bite,” “knot,” and “mine” make your toes curl, welcome home baby. Bloodbound: The Vampire Trials They told her the Trials were to prove her worth. They didn’t mention the blood-drenched battles… The savage power pulsing under her skin… Or the three dangerously obsessed men who’d be fated to crave her like a curse. Valkhara came to win and nothing else. But surviving means enduring brutal magical Trials, evading death at every turn, and resisting the feral hunger clawing through her bond. Sevrin: the cold, brutal vampire king with eyes like stormclouds and a voice that commands along with magic that can control blood Azric: the mind-reading menace who whispers her filthiest thoughts right back to her. Daxos: a war god wrapped in smoke and muscle, made to mark, knot, and conquer. Each one touches a different part of her soul. Each one claims her in ways she never saw coming. And the deeper they sink in, the more power she unlocks. But this isn’t just about lust or love, it’s about vengeance, destiny, and ripping the truth from the council’s cold, dead hands. Because Valkhara isn’t just bonded. She’s becoming unstoppable. Other Info

Elena had once believed that silence could mean safety. That a gentle hand and a warm cup of tea placed quietly on her desk every morning could be a form of love. Lucien was never cruel—not in the obvious ways. He remembered how she liked her eggs, noticed when she swapped her perfume, and sent flowers on days he knew she wouldn’t expect them. He raised her like one would raise a pet—softly, without question. And Elena, foolish in the way only the very lonely can be, mistook his quiet affection for devotion. She told herself he was reserved. Mysterious. That love didn’t always wear its heart on its sleeve. But when the old flame returned—the one who spoke his language without needing to try—Elena saw it. The difference. He looked at her like a man who had found his lost religion. And Elena? She had simply been convenient. No tears, no scene. Just papers on the breakfast table, beside the eggs he cooked perfectly. She didn’t accuse or beg. She only asked for freedom. He didn’t sign. He chuckled. A soft, dismissive sound. “A cat raised indoors doesn’t know how to survive on the street, Elena. You’ll come back." But she didn’t. She disappeared, like smoke—except she didn’t vanish, not really. She lived. She wore colour again. Laughed at bad jokes. Let strange men hand her coffee and ask for her number. Lucien? He watched. He watched her become someone without him. And it drove him mad. The night he cornered her outside the gallery, rain in his hair and desperation in his eyes, he looked like a man undone. "Elena," he breathed, "please. Look at me. Just once." She did. Calm as ever, and her love already gone.