Wrath Of The Exiled Heir Novels & Stories

Energy cracked in the air, thick and heavy, like a storm gathering too close to the skin. And then he walked in. Ciro Hitchdulf. Warlock. Exiled heir to the fallen House of the Ashen Throne. Rumors said he bathed in dragon blood, had a wolf’s temper, and never spoke a promise he didn’t break. He wore darkness like it was stitched into his very muscles, black leathers, storm-gray eyes under obsidian lashes, and a mouth that looked carved to ruin. He stood across the stall, eyes locked on her like he’d already decided something. She felt it in her bones, heat. Not the type she brewed into tonics or steeped into healing charms. No, this heat crawled. It stirred her blood.

She never did when he set his mind. “You stand against your Alpha. Against your blood. Against the mate chosen for you by your pack. For that defiance, I strip you of your name, your bloodline, and your claim to Hawthorne. You are no son of mine. You are no wolf of mine. You are exiled.” The words hit like iron. Exile. Stripped of everything I had been born to. My chest ached, but my knees didn’t buckle. My wolf howled inside me, not in pain, but in rage.

a voice drawled, dripping with condescension. Kael stiffened as Darius Krown stepped into their path. Darius was a mountain of a man, an Alpha whose reputation for ruthlessness was only matched by his appetite for scandal. He held a glass of scotch in one hand, his eyes raking over Kael with a look of pure disdain.

She needs her head in the game if she doesn't want to land her ass in jail along Maddy and Emily. Nathan was her past, a past that she can't include in her future because she was afraid of commitment. Jes had just learned to fly she doesn't want a relationship to clip her wings~ ****** NEW BOOK CHASED BY A DRAGON KING Beware of the Ruler Of The Skies~ He can turn your bones into Ashes with the Moondust that he holds in his lungs and fire in his eyes. The descendants of the Gods, the King of the Dragons~ Females melt just by his single brilliantly blazing gaze but the heart of the King Of Dragons had always sought a female he did not know the name of.

I stand there, panting, trying to clear my thoughts of the tiredness. I need to find a way to change this "last mission" of the heir. I don't know why he ran away, but I'm sure he'll be back. I can't run away forever, especially when he has a physical advantage. Any kid my age would easily accept a hug, but I'd rather die in battle. That's why they made it his final mission. Wait, the heir is under the tutelage of a new teacher since we arrived in Castile, since according to reports his last teacher is at home due to injury in battle. The only teacher in Castile who knows me so well is. . .

Margaret sneered. "Get a grip, Felix. That Vivian girl was just some commoner trying to marry into money. Getting rid of her bastard child is nothing but a benefit to this family." "Bastard?" Felix shot up, his eyes bloodshot. "Mom, do you have any idea who you killed?" He stood, trembling with rage. "Vivian was carrying the one and only heir to the Blackwood family!" Margaret's wine glass froze mid-air.

Without it, an heir was nothing but a rogue waiting for exile. Color drained from Tahlia’s face as he stared at his blood on the stone, ruin settling in deep. But the damage was done, and nothing would ever wash the scent of treason from his name.

The darkness roared upward like a tidal wave, forming into a massive shadow shape. And in that moment… Something inside me spoke clearly. This is only the beginning. I lifted my head, eyes glowing fiercely. My wings spread, the silver light so intense it burned the darkness away. The Creator froze. Even Aetherion looked alarmed. And for the first time… I felt it. The Blood Heir wasn’t a seal anymore. It was a weapon. A force beyond anyone’s control. And Was finally ready to wield it. *************************************************

"I'll come back. We'll figure this out. We'll find a way." The Rites of Passage weren't optional—not for a Stonehaven heir. Every alpha-blooded son had to complete the three-month isolation in the northern territories before they could claim their place in the pack hierarchy. It was tradition, ritual, law. Alec had known it was coming since he was old enough to understand what his last name meant. But knowing didn't make it easier. He'd spent weeks trying to find a way around it, some loophole that would let him stay, but his father had made it clear: refuse the Rites, and he'd forfeit his claim to everything—his inheritance, his position, his voice in the Council. He'd become nothing. And i

They had ruined her father’s company years ago, left her family bankrupt and her father broken. Her heart pounded in her chest, the letters blurring. Brandon… Hughes. Her gaze snapped to the sleeping man on her couch. The spoiled heir she’d dragged into her home wasn’t just any runaway rich boy. He was part of the dynasty she despised more than anyone. Her lips trembled as a storm of rage, disbelief, and dread swirled inside her. Brandon stirred in his sleep, oblivious to the fire he’d just ignited in her chest.