Worship Quotes

“Leave me alone! I would never accept you as my mates, you monsters.” I yelled, my body slightly shivering as I felt their hands trail my body. I hated the way I reacted to them. I should hate them… I shouldn’t crave them, not after everything they’ve done. But as Xavier sucked on my ear lobe and Kai grazed my jaw with his canines, I could barely hold my resolve. Zade knelt between my feet, his brown lust filled eyes staring at me with admiration. “We would never leave you alone, Kiara. We would worship you in every way,” he whispered, trailing kisses up my inner thigh, making me cry with blinding lust. “Even if it kills us, even if you kill us.” Kiara Knowles has been bullied alll her life because of her body. She was hated, abused and insulted, but on the first day of her new school, she felt finally accepted by her new friends, and was happy her crush noticed her. But it all turned out to be a lie as she was publicly humiliated for a past she couldn’t remember. Enduring humiliation, she found out that the three Alphas who hated her the most, ended up being her mates. Now they want nothing more than her acceptance, but she was too full of hate to care. Would she ever open her heart to them? Would they ever resist the burning temptation to mark her as theirs? Would Kiara ever belong?

Tate flirts with danger the same way he flirts with men. Recklessly. So when his father’s debts land him in the hands of Enzo Moretti, a cold-blooded mafia boss with a smile as sharp as his threats, Tate should be terrified. Instead, he flirts harder, hiding sharp eyes behind thick glasses like he doesn’t see the monster watching him. But he does. He always did. Enzo is no ordinary criminal. He’s a werewolf with a body built to break, a past soaked in blood, and a temper barely kept in check. Tate is supposed to be collateral—silent, obedient, forgotten. But Tate? He’s loud, shameless, stubborn enough to make Enzo feel. For months, they circle each other—clashing, teasing, burning. Enzo should’ve killed him, but instead, he steals him. Holds him. Breaks him open until their craving for each other twists between punishment and pleasure, until need feels like worship, and pain starts to taste like love. Then, when Tate thinks he’s escaped, when he thinks he’s free—Enzo lets him go. When someone else tries to take what’s already his, Enzo doesn’t hesitate. He drags Tate back, and now the boy wears his name, carries his ring, and sleeps in his bed. Maybe Tate should hate him. But he doesn’t. Because he never wanted gentle. He never wanted safe. He wanted this—blinding, consuming desire. And Enzo? He doesn’t let go. Not when he’s tasted him. Marked him. Owned him. Because monsters like him don’t share. Not even with their own blood.