Novel & Cerita Your Throne

“You won’t.” Luna hovered above the throne, her voice echoing across the Vale. “You built this from pain.” The Blood Father snarled. “I built it from truth.” Luna raised her hands. “Then let it burn.” Her mark flared, and the throne ignited. Flames surged upward, swallowing the obsidian, the bone, the crown.

"But if your fine ass wants to get lashed down and spanked, I could be into that. Turns out that you're kinda my type." The Throne smiled, his not-so-tom-like teeth bared. "Why are you here, whelp? It would be as easy as breathing for me to send you from here into the deepest depths of the Underworld. Are you not seeking my gift to save the one you call Innehavre? If that's true, have a seat. The bonds are to hold your aura intact as I infiltrate your very essence." The Throne was a little rusty, having not had a challenger in many centuries and he felt his hackles rise. He was already telling this very attractive ginger-haired nuisance more than he usually told anyone. They were usually too

On the day my fiancé, Raphael Moretti, and I were supposed to get our marriage license at city hall, I dressed with care. But by noon, he still hadn't shown up. Aurelia De Luca video-called me. "Sofia, where are you? Raphael's been waiting for you all day." Panic hit me. "Weren't we signing in Palermo?" Aurelia frowned. "It's Taormina, Sofia. Everyone's been waiting for a long time." I drove straight to Taormina. When I arrived, no one was there. When the video connected, Aurelia was crouched on the ground, laughing hard. "Sofia, don't tell me you actually went. We're already on Lipari. Raphael's setting up the wedding venue to surprise you." I left my car at the port and took a boat to Lipa

And if it reached the pack elders—if Silas heard that his son was favoring a human, that the future Alpha was being influenced—it would plant seeds of mistrust. Doubt was all she needed. Alaric would have to choose. And Bianca would make sure he chose the throne. And if she couldn’t, she was sure his parents would do it for her. They always did. She stared at her reflection in the dark window. The city lights flickered behind her. You don't get to have him, she thought. Not while I'm still here.

I was born an imperial princess. I was raised as a prince. I am doomed to be an Omega. To secure her grip on the Sovereign Empire, my mother, the Empress, erased my existence the moment I took my first breath. To the world, I am the Second Prince, a weak, unimpressive Beta. A spineless pawn in a court ruled by ruthless Alphas. For years, I have choked down toxic suppressants to hide my true Omega nature, enduring the calculated cruelty of my arrogant half brother, the open humiliation from the Duke meant to marry into our line, and the quiet, unbearable contempt of the empire’s deadliest military commander. They look at me and see a rival to be crushed, a joke to be laughed at, a boy not wor

They chorused, but I didn’t flinch or spare a glance at them. “I am the rightful owner of this throne.” My voice came, powerful, intimidating and fierce. They exchanged glances at each other. Kayla laughed. “You? The rightful owner? That throne has always been reserved for the most powerful of them all and tonight, it’s the Moon Heiress’s special throne.”

I felt pathetic, I was pathetic. “Elara, I’ll give it all back,” I said, my voice cracking from the cold. “I’ll tell the elders. I’ll tell them you’re the Thorne heir. I’ll step down. I don’t want the crown if it means I have to feel this quiet in my head.” I heard a movement on the other side. A floorboard creaked. “You’re a liar, Aiden,” she finally spoke. “You love that crown more than you ever loved me. You’re only here because the bond snapped and it hurts. If it didn't hurt, you’d still be up there in your big bed, ignoring me.”

"They need a real Queen. Someone stunning. Someone with elite education and perfect pack pedigree. When they see you, they will toss that pathetic human straight into the streets. You are going to rule this pack, Clara." "Well, when you put it like that," she laughed lightly, clearly enjoying the idea. "I suppose I should wear the red dress you bought me." "Wear the red one," he agreed. "Get some sleep on the flight. I will see you tomorrow." Hanging up the phone, Thorne tossed it onto the seat next to him. He felt incredibly smug. While the rest of the council was panicking over dead guards and old women's prophecies, he was quietly positioning his own bloodline for the throne.

She asked sternly. I scoffed. “Excuse me, mother. We all know that this throne belonged to my father from the beginning. In fact the throne should have been in our hands if you hadn’t collided with Jared’s father. So don’t act as if it’s a big deal that I took the throne from him back,” “Once a throne has left a family, it can never go back….” “That’s just a fucking old rule. I don’t work with such rules anymore. I get to decide my own rule and fate, and not some fucking old rules deciding it for me,” I cut her off.

Or that it was a resting place for her kind. They finally entered another room, this one smaller than the others, but with high, vaulted ceilings, and natural light pouring in. This room had stark, stone floors, and in its center sat one remarkable piece of furniture: a throne. Mounted high up on a pedestal, at least fifteen feet high, sat the wooden throne, a chair which was extra wide, with arms that sloped upward, and a back that angled on a triangle, coming to a point in the middle. Beneath it, on its corners, sat two golden lions, designed to look as if they were holding up the chair.