Bound To The Lycan Prince by Black Barbie

He said she was his. Not by fate but by force.

She never believed in mates, especially not the kind with ruthless hands and a gaze that burns like wildfire. But when a powerful Lycan drags her into his world of violence, dominance, and ancient law, she learns the terrifying truth: she isn’t just desired, she’s claimed.

Held in his brutal grip, heart racing and body trembling, she sees the madness in his eyes. He doesn’t ask. He takes. And once his scent is on her skin, there’s no escape.

But she isn’t the fragile little thing he thinks she is.

As war brews between packs and bloodlines clash, one question remains:

Will she survive being his mate

or will she burn trying to break the bond?

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Blurb

Chapter 1

Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Chapter 2

"No.No.No."
Dread tore through Azzurra like a wildfire, vicious and all-consuming, igniting every nerve, locking up her limbs, and leaving her heart pounding in paralyzed fear.
Why him?
Of all the monsters in this damned world, why the Lycan King?
Sweat beaded on her brow as the Mistress straightened with glee and seized her arm.
“This is the one, my King,” the woman said sweetly. “Exactly what you asked for.”
“Pet.”
The word rolled out from the shadows, low and grating, rumbling with quiet command.
Azzurra’s throat tightened. Her chin trembled. That voice carried power cold, sharp, and absolute.
“Kneel,” the King ordered, unseen but very much present.
Azzurra inhaled shakily. So this was it the moment her story ended. Maybe she wouldn’t regret it, not after making their lives hell for so long. But still, this?
She didn’t deserve this.
“No,” she whispered or maybe she roared drawing on the last ounce of defiance left in her.
A small, amused curve tugged at the King's lips in the dark.
“I’ll take her,” he said, and the Mistress lit up like a Christmas tree, clasping her hands in delight.
She gestured, and a worker stepped forward, holding a black fur collar.
Azzurra stood frozen, blood draining from her face. Her eyes brimmed with tears that refused to fall.
He was supposed to reject her. Order her death. Punish her for disrespect. Not... this.
Her thoughts reeled as the worker latched the collar tightly around her throat, firm and final, ensuring she couldn’t possibly wriggle free.
Her hands flew up instinctively, trying to claw it off.
The Mistress grabbed the leash and yanked her harshly down the stage and out of the hall. Azzurra barely registered the sea of dark gazes trailing her the audience, the monsters.
Once outside, the Mistress began unlocking her shackles. Azzurra rubbed her wrists and scanned frantically for an escape route.
But then she saw him.
Tall. Clad in royal furs and adorned with jewels.
The Lycan King.
Her stomach twisted violently.
This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.
She was supposed to end up with a basic, cruel werewolf not him.
Not the most dangerous being alive.
She had to run. Now.
“Here, sire,” the Mistress cooed, offering the leash with reverence.
But Azzurra made a snap decision.
She snatched the leash from her hand and took off, heels clacking in panic.
She barely made it four strides before the Royal Guards closed in, tackling her like prey. She thrashed wildly as they dragged her back toward the King.
“Let me go, you bastards!” she screamed, writhing in their iron grip.
The King calmly extended a cheque. The Mistress, smiling with delight, handed him a file Azzurra's file.
“Please, shop with us again, sire,” she said with a bow, throwing Azzurra a smug, victorious glance.
“Let me go!” she screamed again and then he turned.
The King.
And just like that, the scream caught in her throat.
His eyes unreadable. Cold. Calm. Focused.
Why had he bought her? She wasn’t the pretty, obedient kind. She wasn’t ideal. Unless…
Unless he was a true sadist. A psychotic one.
“Release the lady,” the King said.
Lady?
Azzurra blinked.
Had she just… died? Was this some twisted afterlife?
The guards obeyed instantly. One of them stepped forward with a thick fur coat exquisite and heavy and draped it carefully over her trembling frame.
Another handed the leash to the King, who accepted it and began walking toward the exit.
A gust of wind swept past her, chilling her to the bone.
She was too stunned to react, too confused to scream again.
She followed him in silence. What else could she do? Ten guards surrounded them, all massive, expressionless, and lethal.
A long black limousine pulled up. The King entered, and with the leash attached, she had no choice but to follow.
The inside of the car was luxurious and quiet. She sat across from him, swallowed hard, and adjusted the coat tightly around her.
Then he spoke. “Shall I give you a name?”
Her head jerked up alarmed.
Looking directly at a Lycan was forbidden. A death sentence.
Why was he so… calm?
It made her more uneasy than if he’d been brutal.
“I already have one,” she murmured, dropping her gaze.
She didn’t know what to do. She could push harder insult him, get herself killed.
Or she could play it carefully, get answers, and look for a way out.
Find a way to survive.
Eventually, she’d escape. The Ember Rebellion would take her in the rebel humans who still fought back, who believed in freedom. She’d make it to them, one way or another.
“What’s your name, then?” he asked.
“Azzurra,” she whispered.
The King gave a single approving nod.
She tugged at the collar. It was choking her. Each breath scraped her throat.
Then he leaned forward, and she froze.
Without a word, he loosened the collar slightly, re-secured the digital lock, and sat back.
She clutched the coat like a shield.
“Can I ask a question?” she ventured cautiously.
He nodded, almost… amused.
“Why did you buy me?”
It still felt like a dream. Or a nightmare. She was speaking to him. The Lycan King. The most feared being on the continent.
He looked pleased that she’d asked.
“I bought you as a trial,” he said.
She blinked. “A trial…?”
“For my sons,” he clarified smoothly.
Her heart stalled. “I… I don’t understand.”
He smiled gently. But his next words made her blood run cold.
“Whichever of my sons kills you first,” he said, “loses the right to become my successor.”

“Same feelings,” Azzurra murmured beneath her breath but of course, the mistress heard her. Werewolves and their cursed, hyper-sharp senses.
The woman shot her a vicious glare, then turned away with a sneer of disgust.
“Chain them up,” she snapped.
The girls stood silently in their designated rows, heads bowed, but Azzurra had to be dragged into place. She was shoved into line with three other girls, standing toward the rear. Unlike the rest, who waited quietly, Azzurra was held in place by Giacinto himself. He loomed behind her like a predator, ready to pounce at her slightest misstep.
Their line was last. They would be the final group to walk out.
One by one, workers approached each row. Obediently, the pets lifted their shackled wrists. One chain was used to bind an entire line together like a string of condemned souls. When the woman reached Azzurra, she hesitated until Giacinto stepped forward, seizing her shackles and snapping them onto the chain with unnecessary force. He double-checked the locks, as if she might defy steel itself.
Azzurra nearly scoffed. On the outside, she was calm. Cold. But inside, terror had taken root. She didn’t want to be auctioned. She had never let herself believe it would come to this. For an entire year, she had clung to hope. Her escape plan was meticulous. Foolproof.
Until Teodora betrayed her and shattered everything.
Her eyes welled with tears as she stared at her bound hands. There would be no escaping now. The building would be crawling with elite werewolves the type that found entertainment in the suffering of humans, who treated auctions like decadent soirées.
Then came the sound of clapping sharp, deliberate. The Pet Mistress stepped forward, a cruel smile tugging her lips.
“Beyond those doors await the most powerful werewolves of the elite class,” she said sweetly, though poison laced every word. “I suggest you behave. Do not anger them. If you so much as hold eye contact for too long, they’ll rip your throats out no hesitation.”
Azzurra watched as a ripple of fear passed through the group. Some of the girls trembled outright. Boys paled. Even those who had long since accepted their fate visibly faltered.
They all knew the truth most of them would be dead long before thirty. Slaughtered. Broken. Or bred into oblivion in those godforsaken camps. Some didn’t even survive their first week after being bought.
Azzurra clenched her jaw, then let it relax on a slow exhale. Her heart beat like a war drum beneath her ribs.
“Get ready,” the mistress called. “We’re moving out in one minute.”
She could feel the tears threatening again but she refused to let them fall. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She had been meant to escape, not walk onto a stage like cattle. But she wouldn’t show weakness. She wouldn’t let them win. Not now.
The Pet Mistress had spent years making her life hell for her disobedience. She’d promised to select the cruelest, most sadistic buyer available one who would delight in crushing Azzurra’s spirit. And that threat echoed in her mind now like a drumbeat of dread.
Still, a sliver of hope clung to her ribs like a second skin. Perhaps another buyer would claim her instead. Someone less monstrous. Someone… survivable.
She glanced around and noticed the lines were formed according to body shape and height. Strategic presentation.
The first line began to move as the Pet Mistress stepped through the doors, and the girls followed her like prisoners to the gallows. Teodora was nowhere to be seen. Coward. Traitor.
Azzurra’s eyes lowered to the floor. She could see the tears brimming in others’ eyes glossy, unblinking. Every one of them fought to hold it in. Rumor had it that the masters preferred their pets broken. Those who cried were bought first. Desperate tears made them more appealing.
As her line was led out, Giacinto remained close, like a bloodhound. Azzurra, spiteful to the end, gave the shackles a small tug. The sudden pull jerked the chain, making the other girls stumble slightly and gasp.
Giacinto shot her a warning glare, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. She only rolled hers in return.
She caught the first girl in their line hastily wiping her tears. The girl glanced at Azzurra with something like gratitude those few seconds had given her just enough time to mask her fear before stepping onto the stage.
The moment they emerged, a flood of blinding light slammed into them. Azzurra hissed and shut her eyes. When she opened them again, her vision struggled to adjust. Beyond the stage was only blackness. The audience, hidden in shadows.
Were they truly there? Were those beasts watching in silence?
They stood in their preassigned spots, perfectly trained. The first boy, frail and wide-eyed, was led to center stage. He wore only boxers and kept his head bowed low.
The Pet Mistress stepped beside him. “Good evening, my lords,” she purred. “Tonight, I present to you the finest of our collection. This boy here is…” She droned on with rehearsed praise.
From the darkness, a woman’s voice rang out with a bid. Just like that, the boy was sold.
Panic crept across the remaining humans. The numbers thinned quickly. No one was sent backstage no one spared.
Some were bought in groups pairs and trios claimed at once by chuckling voices who joked that their pets never lasted long enough. That alone turned several faces bone white.
Azzurra felt eyes crawling over her skin. Dozens of them. Maybe more. Filthy. Starving. But she still couldn’t see them. Only darkness beyond the lights.
The girl beside her was next. As she was led away, Azzurra noticed the heavy doors at the far end creak open.
A tall figure entered. The air shifted instantly.
The temperature dropped.
Gasps echoed through the crowd.
The Pet Mistress’s face lit up. She whispered urgently to a worker, who quickly dragged the girl off stage. Then, with theatrical reverence, the mistress turned and strode straight toward Azzurra.
Before she could react, her shackles were seized, and she was yanked into the spotlight. The steel bit into her wrists, and she ripped herself free from the mistress’s grip with a scowl.
“My King,” the mistress intoned, dropping to her knees.
Azzurra froze.
All around her, werewolves bowed. So did the pets.
The realization hit her like a lightning bolt to the chest.
The Lycan King… was here.

All she could feel now was cold bone-deep and soul-cutting after that betrayal.
Azzurra stood rigid, her fists clenched tightly at her sides as her glare fixed itself to the floor. Shame mingled with fury in her chest. They had stripped her of every last shred of dignity, forcing her into a vulgar excuse for clothing: a black set of lingerie that clung to her skin like it was painted on, offering no modesty, no protection nothing.
Her gaze flicked down. Her breasts were nearly spilling out of what barely passed for a bra. Over that, they had draped her in a sheer, finely woven netted dress that reached her ankles utterly see-through, like a cruel joke. To complete the humiliation, they’d made her wear stilettos that made her legs ache and her balance sway.
What was she supposed to do now? Parade herself like a showpiece?
She inhaled sharply, struggling to hold herself together. Her hair had been curled into soft waves that bounced around her shoulders, but they hadn’t touched her face just a faint swipe of color on her lips. That, at least, she was thankful for.
Still, fear gripped her chest like a vice. She’d tried to steel herself the night before, after the failed escape attempt. She’d stayed awake, preparing her mind, bracing her heart. But now, in this moment, all that resolve felt like it had melted away.
The back room buzzed with anxious energy. Girls and boys, all around her age just turned eighteen stood around, waiting. The auction was about to begin. Their fates hung in the air like smoke.
“Number 24. Come here,” barked a stern voice.
Azzurra barely turned her head toward the woman who had called out. She didn’t move.
Her eyes settled on the iron shackles in the woman’s hand. A wave of nausea rolled over her.
They didn’t even call them by name only by numbers. Just livestock. Pets. They weren’t allowed names unless their buyers gifted them one, like a collar.
Suddenly, a harsh hand grabbed the back of her neck.
“Move it, you filthy mutt!” Giacinto snarled, yanking her forward. He shoved her toward the woman, then forcefully stretched her arms out so she could be bound.
The cold metal snapped over her wrists.
As soon as Giacinto let go, Azzurra lifted her chin and threw him a look sharp enough to draw blood. His hand lifted instinctively to strike her again, but before he could make contact, the Pet Mistress caught his wrist.
“Do not damage the goods,” she hissed, her voice low and venomous. Giacinto gritted his teeth and dropped his arm.
He had already done his damage last night beating her senseless, then dragging her to that cursed witch to heal her wounds. When she was brought back to the facility, the Pet Mistress had only smirked at her. That expression haunted Azzurra more than the pain ever could.
She’d been locked in the dungeon without food or water since.
Now, the Mistress stood in front of her, venom oozing from her eyes. She loathed Azzurra. Always had.
If it were up to the Mistress, Azzurra would have already been taken to the slaughterhouse, her body torn to shreds and tossed into the dirt. But that wasn’t the Mistress’s call. Her role was simple: train the pets. Break them. Mold them into docile, compliant creatures.
Azzurra was the outlier the one who wouldn’t bend, wouldn’t crack, no matter how hard they tried.
Everyone hated her for it not just the guards, but even the other human pets. Because she refused to accept their new reality.
She refused to stop fighting.
Most of the others had surrendered to the truth that they had lost. That humans were defeated, broken, nothing more than pawns or playthings for monsters.
But Azzurra couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
She wasn’t afraid of death anymore. It would come for all of them sooner or later so why live in fear of it? Why crawl when she could die standing?
She had made a vow to herself: as long as she breathed, she would resist. She would try. And one day, she would succeed.
Yes, these creatures were stronger. But if humans stopped fearing death, they’d become powerful too in ways that couldn't be taken. Because at the very least, humans still had one power left: the power to end their own suffering, to deny their captors satisfaction.
Azzurra would never give them that victory.
The Mistress seized her face roughly, nails pressing into her skin claws just short of piercing.
“This is the last time I’ll have to look at your disgusting face,” she sneered, lips curling into a grin. “You have no idea what’s waiting for you.”
Azzurra’s heartbeat roared in her ears. She remembered all too clearly the Mistress’s promise: that she would find the most deranged, twisted master to buy her. Someone who would break her spirit, no matter how strong it was.
And yes it terrified her. But she never let it show.
The last time the Mistress had threatened her, Azzurra had only glared back and said, “Give it your best shot.”
That night, they flogged her. A hundred times. She fainted. Twice. Came to. And fainted again. But not once did she scream.
Pain was her old companion now.
She had endured it for ten years.
As a child, she used to scream, cry, beg but none of it ever stopped the torment. Eventually, she learned that silence was its own weapon. It robbed them of the pleasure they sought from her agony.
Her silence infuriated them. It became a challenge. They beat her harder. They starved her. They experimented with new ways to break her. But over time, she built endurance. What used to shatter her now only strengthened her resolve.
She became immune.
Three times, she’d been marked for slaughter. And three times, the Mistress had pulled her back from the brink not out of mercy, but greed. The Mistress believed Azzurra’s defiance would attract a high price. There were monsters, she said, who enjoyed the thrill of taming “feral bitches.”
But everything changed when she turned seventeen.
They stopped touching her.
No more physical punishment. The merchandise couldn’t be damaged. They began feeding all the pets better nutrient-rich meals to make them healthy, glossy, desirable.
Azzurra’s body healed. Her curves filled out. And with it came a new wave of resentment from others.
She’d overheard some of the other girls whispering jealous, bitter.
“Look how lucky she is. With a body like that, she’ll fetch a fortune.”
They envied her figure, especially her chest.
Azzurra wanted to laugh.
Lucky?
No. Beauty didn’t protect her. It only made her a bigger target. A bigger prize for the cruelest of them all.
She wasn’t lucky.
She was cursed.

The girl raced through the empty streets, the icy wind clawing at her skin as her heart pounded in her chest like a war drum. Fear clutched her, but the desperate taste of freedom fueled her every step, adrenaline surging through her veins.
“Faster, Teodora!” she hissed under her breath, glancing back at the girl trailing close behind.
Teodora was the only true friend she had in this cruel world. For two years, they had clung to each other like lifelines, and together, they had dared to dream of escape. Azzurra had spent months planning this was their one chance to break free, to steal back the life they deserved.
Azzurra looked over her shoulder. Nothing. No one. The rain was a blessing, soaking the streets, masking their scent. For now, it seemed they had lost their pursuers.
Skidding into a narrow alley, Azzurra slammed her back against a rusted wall, panting hard. Teodora dropped to a crouch beside her, chest heaving with exhaustion.
This had to work. It was their final attempt. If they failed tonight, Azzurra would be auctioned off tomorrow sold like property to the highest bidder.
Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed through the alley.
Azzurra’s heart seized. She met Teodora’s wide eyes, then bolted to her feet, yanking her friend up. Without a word, she turned and ran in the opposite direction, legs burning with the effort.
She couldn’t afford to be caught not now. She couldn’t bear the thought of being paraded on that stage like livestock.
Then came a low, chilling growl.
She risked a glance behind and her blood turned to ice. A massive wolf stalked them through the rain, its eyes locked on their every move.
In the distance, beyond the mist and down the hill, the outline of the neighboring kingdom’s border shimmered in the darkness. So close.
But then Teodora stumbled. She hit the ground hard, scraping her palms and knees on the jagged pavement. Azzurra’s instincts screamed at her to keep running, but her feet turned back before her mind could argue. She grabbed Teodora’s arm and hauled her up, her heart thundering as the wolf gained ground.
“I’m sorry,” Teodora whispered weakly, leaning heavily into her.
“Don’t say that. I’ve got you,” Azzurra replied, her voice thick with emotion, tears lost in the rain.
“I have to tell you something,” Teodora choked, faltering. “I couldn’t leave Eustachio. I’m... I’m pregnant.”
Azzurra stopped in her tracks. Her breath caught.
“What...?” she murmured, eyes searching Teodora’s pale face. “What are you saying?”
“I love him,” Teodora sobbed, clutching her stomach. “I’m carrying his child.”
Eustachio. One of the guards at the Pet House.
Azzurra stumbled back, her world tilting. Before she could say a word, she turned and slammed into something solid.
The breath fled her lungs as she fell hard to the ground. When she looked up, dread coiled inside her.
Giacinto.
He stood over her like a demon summoned straight from her worst nightmares.
“You little piece of filth,” he snarled.
Azzurra scrambled backwards on her hands, but her retreat was cut short by the wolf’s growl behind her. She screamed as Giacinto seized her by the hair and yanked her to her feet.
His hand wrapped cruelly around her throat, fingers squeezing until her vision blurred and her mouth opened in a silent gasp. Her hands clawed at his wrist, but he didn’t loosen his grip.
They weren’t supposed to catch her. She had been careful meticulous. Only two girls had seen them sneak into the restroom earlier, and they had sounded suspicious when they knocked on the stall door. Azzurra had brushed it off... but maybe they’d ratted her out.
Still she had never doubted Teodora.
“I’d love nothing more than to kill you right here,” Giacinto growled, claws extending as his fury intensified.
Azzurra’s tears mixed with the rain, trailing down her face unnoticed. Cold seeped into her bones, and she began to feel herself slipping into numbness.
Just as the edges of her vision started to fade, he hurled her across the alley. She slammed into the wall with a sickening crack and crumpled to the ground, gasping for air through the searing pain.
But Giacinto wasn’t done.
“If she hadn’t told us,” he sneered, nodding toward Teodora, “we would’ve lost such a valuable little pet.”
Azzurra froze. The heel of his boot pressed against the side of her face, forcing it into the wet pavement. Her eyes widened, not from the pressure but from the betrayal.
Teodora.
Her only friend.
It all made sense now her sudden disappearance before the escape, her strange behavior. Azzurra’s heart twisted violently. The pain in her body was nothing compared to the agony ripping through her chest.
She watched, helpless, as the wolf shifted back into Eustachio, who swept Teodora into his arms. She clung to him, weeping, and the two of them walked away leaving Azzurra in the dirt.
It was like a dagger coated in acid had pierced her soul.
Giacinto dragged her upright, his claws digging deep into her arm. His fury barely held in check, he backhanded her across the face then again, and again. Her head snapped sideways with each blow. Her lips bled, her cheeks turned numb, her vision clouded.
Still, she didn’t scream.
The rain washed away the blood, and she closed her eyes, retreating inward, letting her mind drift far from the pain.
He wasn’t supposed to lay a hand on her not according to the Pet Mistress’ rules. They never harmed the girls' faces. Beauty sold better. But Giacinto had broken the rules. And for the first time, Azzurra was glad.
Let her be bruised. Let her face be ruined. Because tomorrow, at the auction no one would want her.
They only bought perfect pets.
Her plan to escape had failed, yes... but in some cruel twist of fate, this beating had given her a new hope. She was no longer marketable.
The Mistress wouldn’t risk losing profit by sending her to the slaughterhouse not yet. And that bought Azzurra time. Time to find another way.
Giacinto, scowling at the sight of her battered face, dragged her toward a black vehicle. She didn’t resist. She let him haul her in.
The mission was still a success.
No one would buy a broken doll.
The car screeched to a halt in a place that felt wrong dark, eerie. Giacinto yanked her out, leading her to the door of a small house and hammered his fist against it three times.
The door creaked open, and an old woman stood there, her eyes an unnatural shade of violet.
Azzurra’s stomach turned.
A witch.
Why had he brought her to a witch?
“Heal her,” Giacinto ordered coldly.
Panic surged. Azzurra ripped her arm from his grip and tried to flee, but he caught her by the hair and jerked her back.
Twisting her around, he drove his fist deep into her stomach.
The pain was indescribable. Her breath vanished, her mouth opened in a soundless cry as she collapsed to her knees, the ache so fierce she couldn’t think.
He didn’t stop. He dragged her broken, sobbing body into the witch’s home.
And behind them, the door slammed shut.

He stood tall, broad-shouldered, radiating a commanding presence that seemed to demand unwavering submission.
“You won’t escape tonight,” he murmured, voice low and gravelly. He leaned back just slightly, only to let his gaze travel down her body with a dark, assessing gleam in his eyes.
“I said, I don’t want this,” she shot back icily, summoning all the courage she had left. She moved to pass him, but he instantly closed the distance, forcing her to retreat just far enough to avoid their bodies touching.
“It’s your duty to satisfy me. What kind of queen do you think you’d make?” he taunted. Her glare cut through him, her eyes burning with defiance as they locked in a volatile stare.
“No means no, Marcello Donati,” she snapped coldly. “What sort of king are you, if you can’t understand a simple yes or no?”
His eyes narrowed in warning, but the way his name sounded from her lips stirred something primal in him. She stood there in nothing but a bathrobe that brushed her knees fragile, trembling, yet still trying to hold herself tall. He may have despised her, but he wasn’t blind.
Her wet honey-blonde hair clung to her shoulders, the tip of her nose reddened from the cold. His gaze drifted downward deliberately.
“My eyes are up here,” she said sharply, grabbing his chin and tilting his face back up to meet hers.
That touch... it was a dangerous move.
“If you say so,” he growled, then suddenly swept her up onto his shoulder. She shrieked and struck his back with her fists, but within moments he was at the edge of the bed, where he unceremoniously dropped her.
She scrambled upright, bracing herself on her palms, wide-eyed with fear. Marcello hovered, his stare fixed. Her robe had slipped off one shoulder, revealing pale, delicate skin and a striking pink birthmark. He crept toward her, and she attempted to scoot away but his hand caught her waist and pulled her beneath him.
“No!” she cried, pushing at his chest. But he was unyielding. Gripping her left wrist, he pinned it beside her head. His other hand pressed into her shoulder, his thumb brushing against the mole. She flinched at the contact.
“Get off me!” she screamed, fury and panic in her eyes. And still, they burned with fire even as tears gathered in her green irises.
“Mind your tongue, Azzurra,” he said, voice cold as steel. He squeezed her wrist in warning.
He leaned in until their noses nearly touched. “Unless you want to be chained to my bed and made to submit whether you like it or not, I suggest you shut that wild little mouth of yours.”
His pupils expanded, leaving only a thin amber rim around the black predatory, hungry. Azzurra froze.
Her chin trembled. She turned her head away just as he lowered his mouth and pressed a deliberate kiss to her neck, following it with a slow drag of his tongue. When he pulled back, her body was shaking beneath him.
So utterly tempting.
Years Ago…
The monsters revealed themselves without warning.
And then, chaos. War. Humanity torn apart by beasts.
They came like a merciless storm. Werewolves. Ravagers. Killers. The predators rose and the prey fell.
Now, only a few thousand humans remained. Their survival came at a cruel cost.
Humans were allowed to live for three reasons only: for entertainment, for servitude, and for breeding because at thirty, all humans were executed.
Azzurra was eighteen.
She had been born free, a child of sunlight and laughter. But when the war erupted, she was just eight and she lost everything to the blood-soaked hands of monsters. Since then, she had belonged to them. A slave.
Now that she was of age, her fate would be sealed just like so many before her.
Either she would be auctioned off like livestock to the highest bidder men twisted enough to seek pets for pleasure or she would be thrown into the breeding camps, a living hell she would never escape.
What she never expected what no one did was that the Lycan King himself would purchase her. Not for himself, but for his sons. Both of whom despised humans with a venomous hate.
What Azzurra didn’t know was that she had been chosen for a test. A brutal game.
Whichever prince killed her first would prove himself unfit to rule. The survivor the one who could resist would become king.
But fate, as always, had other plans.