The Alpha's Desire Series Book 5 by Black Barbie

In the world of Alphas, power is law and mates are claimed, not chosen.

One reckless night binds her to a pack ruled by violence and secrets.

Marked by an Alpha who thrives on control, desired by others who refuse to let fate decide for them, she becomes the spark that ignites old rivalries and new wars.

Each Alpha wants something different.

Protection. Possession. Revenge.

None of them are willing to lose. As the mate bond tightens and blood is spilled in her name, she learns the truth love is not the danger. Power is.

Because in a world where Alphas never share, the greatest sin is wanting more than one… and surviving it.

Blurb

Continue Reading

Éliane stifled a groan as she tried to move.

The moment she shifted, a brutal wave of pain shot through her body, forcing her eyes to snap open.

A shaky breath escaped her lips.

Her vision was blurry at first, swimming in and out of focus as she blinked slowly, trying to steady herself.

Her head throbbed.

Her back felt stiff and aflame, every inch of it burning.

Because she was lying on her stomach, she could only see half the unfamiliar room around her.

And then

Memory came crashing back.

The escape.

The garden.

The guards.

Noël.

Her heart lurched violently.

Clarisse and Colette.

Panic surged through her.

Ignoring the pain, she pushed herself up too quickly, searching frantically for them.

Relief hit her so suddenly it nearly made her collapse.

Colette was curled up asleep beside her on the bed.

Clarisse lay stretched out on the couch in the corner, sleeping soundly.

Both of them were safe.

Her racing pulse slowed.

Then she noticed their clothes.

Fresh.

Different.

Her brows furrowed.

And when she looked down at herself, she realized she was no longer wearing the bloodied gown from the night before.

Instead, she had been changed into something soft and comfortable.

Her fingers hesitantly touched her torso.

Bandages.

Wrapped tightly around her chest and stomach.

The doctor must have treated her.

The realization made her sink slowly back onto the mattress.

The side of her face pressed into the pillow as a quiet sigh escaped her lips.

Last night, before passing out, she had been terrified.

Terrified that Noël would hurt her sisters.

Terrified that her collapse would leave them defenseless.

But they seemed unharmed.

He had even had her treated.

Of course, she reminded herself bitterly, he wouldn’t let her die.

She was valuable to him.

The enemy king’s daughter.

Still…

She had expected dungeons.

Chains.

Cold stone and cruelty.

Not this.

Not a bed.

Not medical treatment.

Not her sisters sleeping peacefully beside her.

Perhaps he wasn’t entirely inhuman.

She had no strength left to think further.

Her entire body ached too fiercely.

And before she even realized it, darkness claimed her once more.

The next time she woke, someone was touching her.

Her eyes flew open.

She flinched violently, instinctively trying to pull away.

“Princess, please calm down. I’m the doctor.”

The soft feminine voice made her freeze.

Clarisse hurried to her side immediately.

“She’s changing your bandages,” she explained quickly.

Éliane stayed silent, her gaze shifting to her sisters.

Both were staring at her with expressions so full of pain and worry that it made her chest ache.

“I’m perfectly fine,” she mumbled after a moment.

Neither of them believed her.

They weren’t blind.

Once the doctor finished changing the dressings, she carefully helped Éliane into a fresh gown.

A knock sounded at the door.

A maid entered carrying a tray of food.

“She’s Léa,” Colette whispered near Éliane’s ear. “The prince assigned her to us.”

The maid set the girls’ meals on the coffee table before approaching Éliane with a bowl of porridge.

“I brought your dinner.”

Éliane simply stared at it.

“You need to eat before taking your medicine,” the doctor said firmly. “You passed out from pain and exhaustion. Your body needs strength.”

Éliane’s dry lips parted.

“Water,” she whispered.

Léa moved instantly, pouring her a glass.

Éliane drank slowly, feeling the coolness slide down her throat and settle inside her.

Then her wary gaze returned to the porridge.

Clarisse noticed immediately.

“We already ate,” she said. “Dinner and breakfast.”

She hesitated before adding, “It isn’t poisoned. The prince ate some himself to prove it.”

That gave Éliane pause.

He had fed them.

Again, not what she had expected.

No one treated their enemy’s daughters this way.

Still, she needed to heal.

And healing meant eating.

Quietly, she accepted the bowl and began forcing down small spoonfuls while Clarisse and Colette resumed their own meal.

The doctor handed several medicines to Léa, carefully explaining the dosages.

After only a few spoonfuls, Éliane could manage no more.

Even sitting upright was exhausting.

The doctor gave her the medicine.

She swallowed it without question.

“I’ll return tomorrow night to change your bandages,” the doctor said.

Her tone softened.

“Until then, avoid moving too much. Anything that strains your back will reopen the wounds.”

Éliane gave no response.

Once the doctor left, her eyes shifted to Léa.

“I need the bathroom.”

The maid immediately stepped forward to help.

With careful support, she guided Éliane to the restroom.

Even with assistance, every step was agony.

By the time she emerged, hobbling slowly and biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out, sweat dotted her brow.

Léa helped her back into bed before collecting the tray and quietly leaving the room.

The moment the door shut, Colette climbed onto the mattress beside her and wrapped both tiny hands around Éliane’s.

“Does it hurt?”

Her voice was so small.

So worried.

Éliane forced a smile.

“I’m fine.”

The lie came easily.

“Give me a few days and I’ll be running around again.”

Clarisse dragged a chair closer and sat on it, pulling her knees to her chest.

“Éliane…”

Her voice shook.

“That witch said Father is dead.”

The words hit like lightning.

Shock stiffened her body.

She had forgotten.

Inés had said exactly that.

But was it true?

She had no way of knowing.

Her father had been sick.

Bedridden.

Too weak to defend himself.

And their royal guards had been vastly outnumbered by Henri’s forces.

If Noël had truly sent his men to aid Inés, then there was little doubt they would have taken the opportunity to kill Alpha Boucher.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

Colette’s expression turned hopeful.

“If he’s alive, he’ll come save us.”

Éliane shifted slightly, making room for Colette to sit properly beside her.

But inside, she knew better.

She couldn’t wait for her father.

She didn’t even know if he was alive.

And even if he was…

Would he truly come for them?

No.

She had to recover.

She had to plan.

She had to escape.

“Don’t trust Noël,” she warned softly.

“Or anyone in this place.”

Colette frowned.

“He didn’t put us in dungeons.”

“I don’t know what he wants from us,” Éliane said carefully. “But we can’t let our guard down.”

Both girls nodded.

Later, they fell asleep beside her in the same bed.

But Éliane remained awake.

Her thoughts refused to quiet.

What would happen now?

Noël didn’t seem like a madman consumed by revenge.

He seemed… rational.

Controlled.

Intelligent enough to understand that neither she nor her sisters were responsible for their father’s sins.

She could only hope Dominique would come.

That somehow he would rescue them.

Because the thought of remaining prisoners in the vampire kingdom was unbearable.

Eventually, exhaustion dragged her into sleep.

A week passed.

And slowly, a routine formed.

They were not permitted to leave the room.

But they were given books.

Crayons.

Games.

A guard even delivered shopping bags overflowing with clothes for all three of them.

The doctor came every night to change Éliane’s bandages.

Thanks to her wolf’s healing, she recovered quickly.

She was nearly whole again.

And through that entire week, Noël never once appeared.

For that, she was grateful.

Still, thoughts of her father haunted her.

Neither he nor Dominique had come.

That absence weighed heavily on her.

So she planned.

She studied the guards.

Their shifts.

Their breaks.

Their patterns.

The security was suffocatingly tight.

And with vampires’ unnatural speed, escape felt nearly impossible.

Still, she watched.

And waited.

Late one night, she woke suddenly.

The room was silent.

After using the restroom, she stepped back into the dark chamber—

And froze.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose instantly.

Her eyes locked onto two silver ones gleaming in the darkness.

Noël.

He leaned casually against the wall.

He hadn’t been there when she entered the bathroom.

A chill slithered down her spine.

Her gaze darted to her sisters.

Still asleep.

Then she looked back

And gasped.

He was suddenly in front of her.

So fast she hadn’t even seen him move.

A scream rose in her throat.

But his hand clamped over her mouth before it could escape.

Her wide eyes locked onto his in horror.

She clawed at his wrist, trying desperately to pull his hand away.

His grip didn’t budge.

He stared down at her intently.

Then he leaned close.

Far too close.

His lips hovered beside her ear, his breath warm against her trembling skin.

He felt her shaking.

“Follow me quietly,” he murmured.

His voice was calm.

Gentle, even.

But the warning beneath it was unmistakable.

“It’ll be troublesome if your sisters wake up.”

Then he stepped back and released her.

She sucked in a sharp breath.

Without another glance, he turned and walked out of the room.

Shaking, Éliane snatched the cardigan from the couch and slipped it on.

Her fingers trembled violently.

Fear of the unknown clawed through her.

She forced herself to breathe deeply.

Again.

Again.

Trying to calm the frantic pounding of her heart.

Every instinct screamed at her to run.

To hide.

To vanish into the mountains if she had to.

But she stepped out anyway.

The door clicked softly shut behind her.

Two guards stood outside, heads bowed.

A third stepped forward.

“Please follow me, Princess.”

Noël was nowhere in sight.

Silently, she obeyed.

Each step sent a dull ache through her still-healing back.

Eventually, they stopped before massive mahogany double doors.

The guard knocked once.

Then opened them.

Éliane stared at him, silently pleading.

Please don’t make me go in there.

“Please step inside.”

Her heart sank.

On trembling legs, she entered.

The door shut behind her.

Then the lights came on.

She blinked against the sudden brightness

And her eyes found him instantly.

For the first time, she saw him clearly.

Silver hair.

The exact shade of his eyes.

Tan skin unusual for a vampire.

A dark tattoo curled along his neck before disappearing beneath his shirt.

Cross earrings dangled from both ears.

And he was…

Striking.

Painfully so.

For several moments, she couldn’t look away.

Her gaze drifted over his broad shoulders, his lean muscular frame, the simple sweats he wore that somehow only made him more attractive.

“Like what you see?”

Her eyes snapped upward.

The smugness on his face instantly ruined the effect.

Her lips thinned.

She took it back.

He wasn’t handsome at all.

“No.”

Though what she wanted to say was I’ve seen better.

A lie.

And one likely to anger him.

So she held her tongue.

Though Gérard and Dominique certainly weren’t lacking in looks.

“But those big doe eyes seemed very appreciative.”

His voice dripped amusement.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” she muttered.

He heard it.

His eyes narrowed.

“If you’re done talking,” she blurted quickly, “I want to leave.”

She wanted the safety of her room.

His scent filled the space dark cologne layered over something unmistakably male.

Combined with the intensity of his stare, it made her skin prickle.

She couldn’t even look him in the eye for long.

Then he spoke.

Flatly.

Emotionlessly.

“We’re getting married next week.”

For a second, she thought she had misheard.

Her eyes flew to his.

But the dark certainty in his expression told her she hadn’t.

“No.”

She stumbled back.

Then spun toward the door.

Run.

Escape.

Anything.

But before she could move

His hand shot out.

He grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

Her small body slammed against his hard chest.

His silver eyes blazed down at her.

“I’m not finished.”

His voice came low and dangerous.

“Where exactly do you think you’re going?”

He inhaled sharply.

The sweet scent of blood drifted into his nose, rich and intoxicating, and instantly his eyes darkened with hunger.

His gaze flicked toward the guards standing nearby.

They were staring at the unconscious princess with the same dangerous awareness.

Of course they were.

They were vampires.

Their first instinct was always the same.

To taste.

“Keep them outside,” Noël ordered sharply.

The guards moved at once, holding the little girls back as they struggled wildly in their grasp.

They were not having it.

“No! Let go of us!” Clarisse screamed at the top of her lungs, thrashing against the guard’s hold. “Let us stay with Éliane!”

Ignoring the chaos, Noël carried Éliane to the bed and laid her down carefully.

Then he strode back toward the door and shut it firmly behind him, ensuring the scent of her blood wouldn’t spill into the rest of the castle and drive every vampire inside into a frenzy.

Once outside, he crouched down in front of the girls.

He forced his expression into something calm. Friendly.

“We need to let the doctor treat your sister,” he said evenly. “If you want her to get better, then you need to listen to me and wait out here.”

The smaller one without the mole bared her tiny teeth at him in a fierce little growl.

“I don’t trust you.”

The other, the one with the mole looked up at him with wide, solemn eyes.

“Promise you won’t hurt her.”

“Don’t trust him, Colette,” Clarisse snapped immediately.

The two girls were nearly identical.

If not for the small mole on Colette’s chin, Noël doubted he’d be able to tell them apart.

At that moment, the royal doctor rushed down the corridor.

Noël stepped aside and motioned for her to enter the room.

Then he looked back at the girls.

“Stay with the guards while your sister is being treated. The maids will help you get changed.”

He paused, softening his tone.

“If you cooperate, I’ll let both of you stay with her afterward.”

Clarisse glared at him so hard her little fists curled at her sides.

Beside her, Colette leaned in and whispered into her sister’s ear.

“We don’t have a choice. We should listen until Éliane wakes up.”

Clarisse looked like she wanted to argue.

But she knew Colette was right.

Reluctantly, the two girls allowed themselves to be escorted away.

The guards led them toward the kitchen, where the maids could tend to them.

Noël let out a slow breath before returning to the room.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Inside, the doctor was already cutting through Éliane’s ruined gown.

She now lay on her stomach, one arm hanging limply over the edge of the bed.

Without thinking, Noël stepped forward and gently lifted her wrist, placing her hand carefully back onto the mattress.

Then the doctor froze.

“Oh, God…”

The horror in her voice made him look.

And what he saw sent shock crashing through him.

The doctor was staring at Éliane’s back.

Her fingers worked quickly to unhook the blood-soaked corset.

“Why on earth was she wearing this when her back is in such condition?” the doctor muttered, horrified.

Noël’s jaw tightened.

He knew werewolf princesses were expected to dress in royal finery at all times.

But this

This was beyond anything he could comprehend.

As the corset came away, his eyes darkened.

Healing whip marks crisscrossed her pale skin.

Some were already closing.

Others had been stretched open again by the corset and were actively bleeding.

Her entire back was streaked with blood.

And suddenly

A completely insane thought seized him.

He wanted to lick it.

Every drop.

The urge slammed into him so violently it shook him to his core.

What the fuck?

He had spent his entire life mastering control.

All vampires were taught to suppress bloodlust, to remain composed no matter how tempting the scent.

And Noël excelled at it.

Even now, the doctor worked with perfect calm.

So why was he unraveling?

His gaze dropped to his palm.

Still stained with Éliane’s blood.

Before he could stop himself, he lifted it to his mouth and licked it.

The instant her blood touched his tongue

It was like lightning tore through every cell in his body.

A brutal jolt of need surged through him.

And suddenly, one taste wasn’t enough.

He wanted more.

Much more.

Jaw clenching hard enough to ache, he snatched a tissue and scrubbed his hand clean.

The princess lay unconscious on the bed, vulnerable and defenseless, and he was standing there fighting the primal urge to sink his fangs into her skin.

What the hell was wrong with him?

“The wounds are fresh,” the doctor murmured, carefully cleaning the blood away. “Barely a day or two old.”

Her expression darkened.

“But these aren’t the only ones. There are older lash marks too. Healed scars.”

She glanced up grimly.

“She’s been tortured before.”

Noël’s gaze shifted to Éliane’s face.

Wet strands of red hair clung to her skin.

Slowly, almost unconsciously, he reached out and brushed them aside.

A dark bruise marred her cheek.

A cut split her lower lip.

His expression hardened instantly.

Who the fuck would do this to her?

She was a princess.

He had done his research.

He knew her father hadn’t treated his daughters well.

But this?

This was monstrous.

Her face was ghostly pale.

And yet

There was no denying her beauty.

The moment she had stepped through that portal, the flash of vibrant red hair had stolen his full attention.

Even in the dim light, she had looked unreal.

Her sea-green eyes were unlike anything he’d ever seen large and luminous, framed by thick red lashes.

Faint freckles dusted her nose and cheeks.

And her lips…

Soft, red, full.

Dangerously kissable.

Now they were slightly parted as she breathed shallowly in her sleep.

She looked so delicate.

As though the slightest force would shatter her.

And that bastard of a father had brutalized her.

Noël abruptly stepped back.

He couldn’t stay there.

The scent of her blood was growing stronger by the second.

And with it, his control was fraying.

Why?

It was just blood.

“Treat her carefully,” he said tightly. “I’ll send a maid to help change her clothes.”

He cast her one final glance before forcing himself out of the room.

The moment he stepped into the corridor, he ordered a maid inside to assist the doctor.

Then he headed to the lounge.

Clarisse and Colette were sitting quietly on an oversized sofa.

Their tiny legs dangled far above the floor.

They had been bathed and changed into fresh clothes.

Still, their faces remained tense with worry.

Noël approached slowly.

“I need to ask you something.”

Both girls looked up.

“Was it your father who hurt your sister?”

Colette nodded immediately.

Clarisse only glared.

“Did he do it often?”

Another nod.

A dangerous rage stirred inside Noël.

King Boucher.

That bastard.

“Why?”

Colette’s lower lip trembled.

“Because no one wants to marry her.”

Noël’s brows shot upward.

No one wanted to marry her?

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered under his breath.

Any male with eyes would want her.

The problem wasn’t Éliane.

It was that lunatic Boucher trying to force her into the lives of men who already had mates.

And Dominique…

Dominique loved someone else entirely.

“My sister is kind and beautiful,” Clarisse snapped. “Men are blind.”

Noël arched a brow at her.

She was like a tiny blonde volcano, permanently moments away from erupting.

Now that he looked properly, both girls had bright blue eyes and golden hair.

The only feature they shared with Éliane was their pale, porcelain skin.

“You can tell the maid whatever you’d like to eat,” he said.

“The cook will prepare it.”

“We want to see Éliane,” Clarisse replied instantly.

“Eat first. Then I’ll take you.”

“Anything green is fine,” Clarisse told the maid politely. “Éliane says we should always eat our greens.”

Noël frowned.

Interesting.

The child was all claws and hostility toward him, yet perfectly regal and courteous to the maid.

The girls eyed the food suspiciously when it arrived.

So suspiciously, in fact, that Noël had to take a bite himself before they believed it wasn’t poisoned.

Even then, they barely ate, watching him warily between each small mouthful.

Clarisse was the bold one, sharp-tongued and fearless.

Colette was quieter.

More cautious.

The kind who thought through every possibility before speaking.

When the maid finally informed him that the doctor had finished treatment, Noël led them back to Éliane’s room.

She lay face-down on the bed, dressed now in a loose gown that concealed her body completely.

Thankfully, the scent of blood had faded to something faint and manageable.

The doctor turned to him.

“I gave her painkillers. She passed out from stress and pain.”

“She should wake within a few hours.”

“Once she does, feed her porridge and give her these.”

She handed over the medicine.

“I’ll need to change her bandages every night until she heals.”

Noël nodded, and the maid carefully took the medication.

He had already assigned that specific maid to care for the princesses.

“Is she okay?”

The small voice came from Colette.

She looked up at him anxiously.

“She’ll be fine,” Noël answered.

Then he glanced toward the window.

“It’s late. Well past your bedtime.”

He straightened.

“I’ve had rooms prepared for both of you. Come, I’ll show you.”

“We’re staying with Éliane.”

Clarisse’s tone was absolute.

No room for argument.

Colette nodded.

“At the palace, the three of us shared one room. We want to stay with her.”

Noël glanced around.

The room was small.

Not ideal for three.

Still…

“Fine.”

Their faces lit up instantly.

He gestured toward the maid.

“This is Léa. She’ll be your personal maid here. If you need anything, tell her.”

Colette nodded politely.

Clarisse merely stared at him with open impatience, clearly waiting for him to leave.

He turned toward the door.

Then paused.

“Don’t even think about escaping.”

His gaze shifted to Éliane.

“She’s badly injured. If she suggests running again when she wakes up, tell her no.”

His voice hardened.

“If you try another escape, she’ll end up hurt all over again.”

His eyes lingered on her parted lips for a beat too long.

Forcing himself to look away, he offered the girls a small smile.

“Goodnight.”

Then he stepped out.

Two guards were stationed outside their door.

Several more beneath the window.

This time, he had placed her on the first floor.

There would be no escaping.

And honestly

He was still astonished she’d managed it at all in her condition.

She looked fragile.

Delicate.

But she was stronger than she appeared.

As he walked toward his chambers, he stopped beside one of the maids.

“Send warm blood to my room.”

His throat tightened at the thought.

He craved Éliane’s blood.

Desperately.

But for now, blood bags would have to suffice.

The girl needed time to heal.

Before he dropped the bomb that would shatter her world all over again.

For several long seconds, Éliane remained completely frozen.

Like ice.

Her body had gone rigid, refusing to move, while her mind struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

It took her a moment to piece it together.

And when the truth finally settled in, absolute terror gripped her heart.

Inés had sent her to the vampire kingdom.

Of all places, she had sent them straight into the enemy’s den.

Her pulse hammered violently against her ribs as dread consumed her.

Why?

What was the meaning of this?

Had Inés struck some kind of bargain with the vampires?

But if her goal had been to claim the werewolf kingdom for herself, then sending Éliane here made no sense. She could have easily used the princess and her sisters as leverage.

So why this?

A startled gasp slipped from her lips when the man stepped closer.

Dangerously close.

Too close.

She instinctively flinched as he invaded her space, his presence dark and imposing.

Then his index finger slipped beneath her chin, tilting her face upward.

Her breath caught.

She couldn’t move.

Couldn’t look away.

Sea-green irises locked onto her silver ones, cold and piercing, and she felt as though he were peeling her apart layer by layer.

“You’re a redhead.”

That was the first thing he said.

His tone held a strange note of fascination, as though he were studying some hidden artifact he had only just uncovered.

As though she were some carefully guarded secret finally revealed to him.

The moment his touch registered, instinct took over.

She slapped his hand away and stumbled backward.

His eyes narrowed.

In the darkness, she still couldn’t make out his features clearly.

Only those silver eyes glinting like sharpened steel.

“W-Who are you?”

She forced the question out, though her voice emerged weak and trembling, betraying every ounce of fear raging inside her.

She could have sworn the corner of his lips curved.

A smirk.

And oddly enough, he looked pleased.

“Soon-to-be King of Vampires,” he said with smug ease. “Noël Leduc.”

The name hit her like a blow.

Every trace of color drained from her face.

She knew that name.

Noël Leduc the only son of the vampire king.

The heir to the throne.

And more importantly…

Dominique’s friend.

A thought struck her instantly.

Did Inés know that?

Had she sent Éliane here because she knew Noël was close to Dominique?

Was this some twisted attempt to get Dominique to come for her rescue?

But if that had been her intention, why not send her directly to Dominique’s pack?

“Can you…” she began hesitantly, clutching her trembling hands together. “Can you ask your guards to take us to Dominique’s pack?”

His brows shot up in visible surprise.

“And why would I do that?”

The confusion in his voice made her stomach twist.

“Because you’re his friend,” she said, the answer seeming obvious to her. “And I’m his fiancée.”

At that, his expression hardened.

His eyes narrowed.

“I can’t tell if you’re genuinely stupid or just pretending.”

The bluntness of his words made her flinch.

He crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“Allow me to enlighten you.”

His smirk returned.

“I made a deal with Inés. She delivers me the princess of the werewolf kingdom, and in exchange, I send my men to help her kill Henri.”

Éliane stared at him, unable to process the words.

“What?”

Her head spun.

Nothing made sense anymore.

“You… you won’t send me to Dominique?”

Her voice came out small.

Fragile.

Almost childlike.

Noël’s expression turned almost mocking.

“Why would I send my enemy’s daughter away?”

The words struck harder than any slap.

“Dominique never considered you his fiancée. He loves Inés.”

Shock coursed through her.

Dominique… loved Inés?

“I suggest you forget about him,” Noël continued coldly. “And focus on your own situation.”

Her lips parted, but no words came.

He looked at her as though she were painfully slow to understand.

“I’m keeping you as my hostage.”

The statement landed with brutal finality.

“No…”

The whisper trembled from her lips.

Noël frowned as though frustrated by how slowly reality was sinking in.

Before he could say anything else, a knock sounded at the door.

“My prince,” a guard called. “A portal has opened for you.”

Noël glanced at her one last time before stepping out.

The heavy click of the lock echoed through the room as he secured the door behind him.

Then he disappeared through the portal.

Outside, Inés stood waiting.

“As promised, I sent her to your palace,” she said.

“Now do your part.”

Noël gave a sharp nod, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I always keep my end of a bargain.”

With that, Inés sealed the portal.

Noël barked orders to his men, and they hurried through newly opened portals to aid her in her battle against Henri.

Then he reached for his phone and called Dominique.

Inside the chamber, a small tug at her dress yanked Éliane back to reality.

Clarisse and Colette stared up at her, their wide eyes shimmering with tears and fear.

Her heart clenched painfully.

“We’re safe,” she whispered, forcing calm into her voice.

Even if she didn’t believe it herself.

“I’ll find a way out of here.”

She wiped their damp cheeks with trembling fingers.

“Go stand in that corner. I’ll figure something out.”

The girls obeyed immediately, hurrying to the far wall and clutching each other’s hands tightly.

Éliane drew in a shaky breath.

She had to think.

Had to move.

Had to escape.

Using her werewolf senses, she sharpened her vision in the darkness.

The room was a guest chamber.

She hurried to the door and tested it.

Locked.

She could break it down but there would undoubtedly be guards waiting outside.

That would be suicide.

Her thoughts raced frantically.

The only thing that mattered was getting her sisters out safely.

Then she spotted the window.

Hope flared.

It was on the ground floor.

If she could open it

She rushed over.

Locked.

Suppressing a hiss of frustration, she dug her claws into the latch.

It took several agonizing moments, her fingers slipping with blood and pain, but finally

Click.

The lock gave.

Slowly, carefully, she pushed the window open.

She motioned for her sisters to come.

Clarisse first.

As she lifted the girl, pain tore through her back.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips.

Tears flooded her eyes.

But she swallowed every sound.

She lowered Clarisse outside.

Then Colette.

By the time both girls were safely on the ground, her body was trembling violently.

Now her turn.

She hated the thought of jumping.

The impact would be unbearable.

But there was no choice.

Just as thunder growled ominously overhead, she forced herself through the window.

She hit the ground hard.

A cry escaped her before she bit down viciously on the inside of her cheek to silence it.

Pain exploded through her body.

She collapsed onto all fours.

Clarisse and Colette rushed to her, each grabbing an arm to help her up.

Breathing heavily, she forced herself to stand.

Then she grabbed their hands and ran.

Toward the garden.

Toward freedom.

Or at least the hope of it.

“Hey!”

The shout made her flinch.

A guard.

Her pulse skyrocketed.

She ran faster.

Then suddenly

Colette stumbled.

Her foot caught on the wet grass, and she fell.

Éliane spun just in time to see a guard rushing toward the little girl at inhuman speed.

Without thinking, she threw herself forward.

Her claws extended.

She planted herself directly in his path, glaring.

A rush of air came from her right.

And suddenly

Noël stood there.

Towering.

Radiating fury.

“That was incredibly stupid.”

His voice came low and dangerous.

He was furious.

But Éliane barely looked at him.

Her focus was on her sisters behind him.

She tried to push past him

Only for his hand to clamp around her arm and yank her back against him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Thunder cracked overhead.

Then rain came.

Cold and relentless.

It drenched them within seconds.

“Let go,” she whispered, struggling weakly against his grip.

He didn’t budge.

His hold only tightened.

“You’re in the vampire kingdom,” he hissed. “Did your pathetic kingdom never teach you what we can do?”

His silver eyes bored into her.

“We could catch you in the blink of an eye. Escape is pointless.”

She trembled.

Not just from fear.

The cold rain lashed mercilessly against her feverish skin.

Her head pounded.

Her vision blurred.

Her face barely reached his chest.

He was too tall.

Too strong.

“Let go,” she whispered again.

The words barely audible.

Then

Thump.

Noël stiffened.

He looked down.

Two tiny blonde heads glared up at him.

Clarisse and Colette.

Their little fists pounded furiously against his legs.

“Let go of Éliane!” one shouted.

“You’re bad!” the other cried, the tiny mole on her chin trembling as she glared. “Let our sister go!”

Despite their fear, they kept hitting him with all the strength their little bodies could muster.

Éliane tried to fight.

Tried to stay conscious.

She wanted to shift.

Wanted to attack.

But her wolf was still wounded.

The lashes had weakened her too much.

Her body was failing.

“Don’t…” she whispered weakly.

Her vision darkened.

“Don’t hurt my sisters…”

And then she collapsed.

Her body tipped forward.

But Noël caught her instantly.

As his hands pressed against her back, warmth coated his palms.

He looked down.

Blood.

His eyes widened.

“You killed her!”

The accusation came from the girl without the mole.

Noël’s gaze snapped to them.

“She’s alive,” he said sharply before panic could overtake them.

Then he gathered Éliane into his arms.

She weighed almost nothing.

Far too light.

“Come inside,” he ordered.

“Your sister needs a doctor.”

The girl with the mole immediately grabbed the other’s hand.

“Come on, Clarisse. We have to stay with Éliane.”

Clarisse nodded tearfully.

Together, the two girls followed as Noël carried Éliane back into the castle.

Behind him, he barked an order to his guards.

“Fetch the Royal Doctor. Now.”

Two days later, she was forced out of bed.

The king had sent strict orders that she was not to rest another moment. Her wounds, her pain, her inability to stand straight none of it mattered. She was expected to return to her daily duties as though nothing had happened.

But there was another reason behind his command.

The king’s associates were coming to visit, and Éliane was expected to stand beside him, draped in exquisite fabric and adorned like the flawless princess of the werewolf kingdom.

A princess with no rights.

The maids practically wrestled the gown onto her.

She hissed sharply as the heavy material brushed against the raw lashes on her back. Pain exploded across her skin, but no one paused. No one cared.

They tightened the corset mercilessly.

Tears welled in her eyes as the pressure crushed against her torn flesh.

It burned.

It felt as though her back had been set ablaze.

Still, she said nothing.

She knew the maids’ lives were on the line. Refusing the king’s command was not an option for any of them.

Even the lightest brush of hair against her wounds was unbearable, yet they forced her into the dress and cinched it tighter until breathing itself became an effort.

She inhaled slowly, deeply, forcing herself to endure.

Then they applied makeup.

Layer after careful layer concealed the blue and yellow bruising on her cheek and the split at the corner of her lower lip.

When she stared into the mirror afterward, no one would ever guess she had been beaten.

No one would suspect the agony hidden beneath silk and powder.

The maids informed her that the guests would be arriving soon.

Éliane stood stiffly in the center of the room, her posture rigid from pain, while her sisters sat nearby playing the piano.

She was waiting for the inevitable summons when suddenly

A loud commotion erupted outside.

Then came the screams.

Her heart lurched violently.

Panic seized her as she rushed to the window.

What she saw made the blood drain from her face.

Barbarians were flooding into the castle.

They stormed through the grounds like a tidal wave of death, slaughtering guards where they stood.

Her breath caught.

Then the chamber door burst open.

A guard stumbled inside, chest heaving, his face drained of all color. Terror blazed in his eyes.

“We’re under attack by Henri. You must hide, Princess.”

The moment she heard that name, dread twisted violently in her chest.

Henri.

The power-hungry beast.

For years he had sought the throne, launching attack after attack against the werewolf kingdom.

And this time…

This time it seemed he had finally succeeded.

Without wasting another second, Éliane grabbed her sisters’ hands and rushed from the room.

Three guards escorted them through the corridor, hurrying them toward the staircase that would lead to the basement and the secret passage hidden there.

But as they reached the stairs, Henri’s men were already ascending.

“Retreat!” one of the guards barked.

They spun around and ran.

Éliane’s heels clicked loudly against the stone floor, slowing her down and making every step agony.

Clarisse and Colette were sobbing now, their cries mixing with the distant screams and deafening roars rising from the ground floor.

They reached a dead end.

Éliane stopped abruptly.

Then she shoved open the library door and pushed her sisters inside.

“Stay here. Don’t come out.”

But the girls clung to her instantly, crying harder, refusing to let go.

One of the guards stepped forward.

“If you’re planning to distract them by sacrificing yourself, it won’t work. Stay with Princess Clarisse and Colette. We’ll hold them off.”

Before she could protest, he gave her a firm push into the room.

“Hide. If they catch you, they’ll use you against the king.”

Then the guards were gone.

Their footsteps faded down the corridor.

Had they truly gone to fight?

Or had they fled?

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

Quickly, she slammed the library door shut and locked it.

Then she dragged a heavy table in front of it.

Clarisse and Colette helped her, their tiny hands trembling.

The moment the barricade was in place, Éliane hurried toward the study desk.

She knew her father kept a gun locked inside one of the drawers.

The problem was

The drawers were secured.

Desperation clawed through her.

She searched frantically for anything she could use to pry it open.

Finding nothing, she attacked the wood with her bare hands.

Her nails elongated into claws.

Again and again she raked them against the drawer until splinters tore into her fingers and blood smeared across the polished surface.

Finally

The lock gave way.

She yanked the drawer open and grabbed the gun.

Her hands trembled violently as she loaded it, blood and sweat slicking her fingers.

Then she kicked off her heels.

She crouched beside her sisters and guided them beneath the large study table.

“Don’t be afraid,” she whispered, though fear was strangling her own voice. “Stay hidden. Stay quiet.”

The girls nodded, wide-eyed and trembling.

Gun in hand, Éliane moved to the window.

Below, the castle grounds had become a graveyard.

Bodies of guards littered the stone courtyard.

A cold shudder raced down her spine.

If Henri killed the king, he would seize the princesses.

And she could only imagine the horrors that would follow.

Henri was cruel beyond measure.

Merciless.

She never wanted to stand before him.

Her fingers tightened around the gun as she aimed it at the door, though her hands shook uncontrollably.

She would protect her sisters.

No matter what.

Even if it meant dying.

She would die before allowing anyone to harm them.

Then suddenly

The screams stopped.

The roars ceased.

Silence descended with terrifying abruptness.

Sweat trickled down her forehead.

A suffocating dread engulfed her.

And then the door exploded inward.

The barricading table was hurled across the room like it weighed nothing.

Clarisse and Colette screamed.

Éliane rushed in front of them instantly.

The girls clutched the back of her dress in their tiny fists, hiding behind their sister.

A girl stood in the doorway.

Blood was splattered across her face.

Her eyes were the same pale shade as Éliane’s.

And the aura radiating from her was impossibly powerful.

Éliane had seen her before.

In a picture with Dominique.

Recognition struck her immediately.

This was no ordinary girl.

This was a witch.

Her hands tightened on the gun as she aimed directly at her.

But with nothing more than a flick of her fingers, the weapon was ripped from Éliane’s grasp by an invisible force.

Éliane stumbled backward with a gasp.

“If those brutes get their hands on you, they’ll tear your soul apart,” the witch said calmly.

Éliane’s chin trembled.

Her first instinct was terror.

This had to be one of Henri’s allies.

She had heard stories whispered among the guards.

Henri had a powerful witch fighting beside him.

Her name was Inés.

And she had also seen Inés standing beside Dominique in portraits.

If she worked for Henri…

Then what exactly was her connection to Dominique?

Inés stepped closer, studying her.

Then she spoke.

“I’m sending you somewhere safe. Tell them you’re the king’s daughter, Princess Éliane and they’ll protect you.”

With a wave of her hand, a portal opened beside her.

Éliane stared at it in horror.

A swirling darkness pulsed inside it, unnatural and chilling.

Fear rooted her in place.

Safe?

She doubted that.

Everything about the portal filled her with unease.

She shook her head, terror widening her eyes.

Inés leaned close, her voice dropping to a whisper against Éliane’s ear.

“Your father is dead, Princess. Henri and his men will tear you apart. Leave now. There will be carnage in this palace tonight.”

The words struck like a physical blow.

Her father was dead.

Éliane flinched away, her breath catching.

Inés’ gaze shifted briefly to Clarisse and Colette, and Éliane instinctively tightened her hold on them.

“The place I’m sending you is your destiny,” Inés said, her tone softer now. “I’m a seer. Trust me.”

Éliane searched her face desperately for deceit.

For cruelty.

For some hidden trap.

But she found none.

Only urgency.

And fear.

Henri’s men would do exactly what Inés had warned.

That much she knew.

And so she had no choice.

Her trust was shaky, reluctant, fragile

But it was all she had.

After a trembling pause, she gave a slow nod.

Then, clutching Clarisse and Colette tightly, she stepped through the portal.

The moment they crossed, it vanished behind them.

Darkness swallowed them whole.

The room they emerged into was freezing.

So cold that her body shivered instantly.

She could barely make out her surroundings.

Her gaze swept through the shadows

And stopped.

A man stood there.

Still.

Silent.

Watching.

Her breath hitched as he began walking toward them.

His strides were powerful, deliberate.

He was tall.

Imposing.

And when he finally stepped into the faint sliver of light

Ice flooded her veins.

His gaze locked onto hers, sharp and merciless.

Then his deep baritone shattered the silence.

“Welcome to hell, Princess.”

The words froze her blood faster than winter ever could.

A trembling whisper escaped her lips.

“Vampire.”

Pain and fear.

They were the only companions Éliane had ever truly known.

From the moment she was born, they had wrapped themselves around her like chains, sinking into her skin and becoming part of her existence. And despite enduring them for her entire life, she still had not learned how to bear their crushing weight.

To the world, Éliane was a princess the daughter of the most powerful werewolf king, royalty draped in silk and diamonds.

But within the cold stone walls of the castle, she was nothing more than a target.

A punching bag for her father.

A disgrace.

Her greatest crime was being born a girl.

Alpha Boucher, King of the Werewolves, had once found his true mate and believed the Moon Goddess had blessed him with everything he desired. But when that union produced a daughter instead of the son he’d dreamed of, his joy curdled into hatred.

Éliane.

The very sight of her was enough to fill him with resentment.

Her mother had loved Alpha Boucher with all her heart. She had adored him with the kind of devotion that consumed the soul. But his rejection after Éliane’s birth shattered her beyond repair. The pain was too much for her to survive.

And so she died.

Leaving behind nothing but a baby girl.

Leaving Éliane utterly alone in the world before she could even speak.

The king had spent years trying to produce a son through his mistresses, desperate for an heir worthy of his throne. Yet every attempt was met with failure and complications.

Then, after years of trying, one of his mistresses gave birth.

Twins.

Two daughters.

Clarisse and Emilia.

The king’s fury had been catastrophic.

He had the woman executed for daring to give him daughters instead of the son he demanded.

Éliane had been twelve when her stepsisters were born.

And somehow, their existence made his hatred for her grow even worse.

He drank heavily, and whenever the alcohol loosened his temper, he sought her out.

He beat her because she was not the son he wanted.

Because she existed.

Because he needed someone to punish.

She had been just a child, enduring blows and cruelty no child should ever know.

And if her father’s wrath wasn’t enough, his mistresses made certain her life remained unbearable. They slipped poison into her food, sabotaged her belongings, whispered venomous things into her ears.

No one protected her.

No one cared.

She was utterly alone.

Until Clarisse and Emilia.

The first time Éliane laid eyes on the newborn girls, tears had filled her eyes.

For the first time in her life, she felt something dangerously close to happiness.

Family.

She hadn’t known then that they would become both her greatest blessing and her deepest vulnerability.

She loved them fiercely.

And they loved her just as deeply.

To them, she was more than a half-sister.

She was their protector.

Their shield.

Their safe place.

While they were still toddlers, Éliane had cared for them as though they were her own children feeding them, soothing them, braiding their hair, shielding them from every cruelty the castle could conjure.

As she grew older, her father’s ambitions shifted.

He began searching for powerful Alphas worthy of marrying her, determined to secure himself a strong son-in-law since he could not have a son of his own.

The irony was almost laughable.

None of them wanted her.

The strongest Alphas had already found their mates and were content in their lives.

But the king demanded they abandon their destined partners to marry Éliane.

Each one refused.

And every rejection became another weapon used against her.

Each refusal carved deeper into her already shattered self-worth, leaving her feeling pathetic, unwanted, disposable.

She couldn’t even voice her desire to wait for her own mate.

The mere thought of speaking such words was enough to freeze her blood.

If she ever dared protest, she would be thrown into the dungeons, where the king’s most trusted executioner would flog her until darkness swallowed her whole.

So she stayed silent.

A doll.

A puppet.

A decorative object forced to sit beside her father, trembling beneath his shadow.

And because the king treated her like filth, the entire kingdom followed his example.

No one saw a princess when they looked at Éliane.

They saw weakness.

A captive.

A burden.

Every day chipped away at her sanity until she felt herself drowning in self-loathing.

Eventually, her father narrowed his options to two Alphas.

Alpha Gérard was his first choice.

But Gérard had found his mate and refused without hesitation.

The king ordered Éliane to seduce him somehow to trap him.

But she had no idea how.

And when Gérard rejected the arrangement outright, her father beat her savagely for failing.

That left only Alpha Dominique.

Dominique’s sister happened to be Gérard’s mate, and the king seized upon that connection with ruthless cunning.

He had Gérard captured and held hostage.

To save him and his mate, Dominique stepped forward.

He agreed to marry Éliane in exchange for their freedom.

Éliane hadn’t expected a fairy tale.

Still, when Dominique warned her father never to lay a hand on her again, a fragile spark of hope flickered inside her.

It was extinguished almost as quickly.

He made it painfully clear that she should expect nothing from him.

This marriage was a temporary arrangement.

He would find a way out for both of them.

And yet… she was grateful.

Because of him, the beatings stopped.

The torture ceased.

As Alpha Dominique’s claimed bride, she became his property and harming her would mean challenging him directly.

For the first time in years, there was a sliver of peace.

Her father had grown severely ill and was confined to his bed.

His weakness emboldened their enemies, and the vampire kingdom attacked repeatedly.

But their defenses held strong.

For Éliane, that fragile stability felt like a miracle.

And still, she knew Dominique was simply waiting.

Waiting for her father to die so the marriage would never happen.

The thought hurt more than she cared to admit.

It reminded her of what she had always been.

Something no one truly wanted.

Yet despite the sting of that truth, she remained thankful.

Sometimes she wondered what she wanted.

If her father lived, he would force the marriage.

If he died, their enemies would descend upon them like starving wolves.

Either path promised destruction.

Éliane had only been outside the castle walls two or three times in her entire life.

The castle was her prison.

But she feared the outside world even more.

If this place was hell, what horrors waited beyond it?

“Éliane, why aren’t you sleeping?”

The sleepy voice broke through her thoughts.

She turned to find little Clarisse rubbing her eyes as she padded toward her.

A smile softened Éliane’s face as she lifted the girl into her arms and cradled her against her chest.

“I’m watching the moon,” she murmured. “It looks beautiful tonight.”

Clarisse gave a drowsy nod.

“You always make us sleep early, then stay up staring at the stars all by yourself.”

Éliane kissed her cheek.

Clarisse and Colette were the only light in her dark world.

“I like nature,” she whispered.

Clarisse yawned. “Let me braid your hair in the morning. You let Colette do it yesterday.”

Éliane smiled.

“Alright.”

Satisfied, Clarisse relaxed against her.

The three of them shared a massive chamber. Clarisse and Colette each had their own single beds, while Éliane occupied the queen-sized bed.

That night, she climbed into bed with Clarisse still in her arms.

Holding her close, she drifted into sleep.

When morning came, she woke to find Colette curled against her as well.

Both girls were wrapped around her like tiny protectors.

A warmth bloomed in her chest.

She kissed each of them softly before rising.

Still groggy, she made her way to the en suite bathroom, bathed quickly, and dressed in fresh royal garments.

Then she woke her sisters and helped them prepare for the day.

Together, they went to the dining hall.

Breakfast was a rigid affair.

Every movement had to be precise.

Every bite had to be taken with perfect etiquette.

Any mistake invited punishment.

They could not laugh loudly.

Could not run.

Could not behave like ordinary girls.

Their lives were tightly scripted performances.

The only freedoms granted to them were reading in the library and brief walks in the garden.

Even then, they had to remain dressed in elaborate royal attire.

There was no simplicity.

No joy.

After breakfast, the girls retreated to the library, where Éliane patiently taught Clarisse and Colette how to read and write.

Then the door opened.

A maid stepped inside and bowed.

“Princess, the king requests your presence.”

Éliane inhaled sharply.

Every summons filled her with dread.

“Read this chapter,” she told her sisters gently. “I’ll be back soon.”

Then she made her way to her father’s wing.

She paused outside his chamber, forcing herself to gather what little courage she had.

The guard opened the door.

She stepped inside.

“My king,” she said, lowering her head. “You asked for my presence?”

She was never allowed to call him Father.

He claimed it mocked him that being reminded he’d failed to produce a son disgusted him.

Only My King or My Lord.

Nothing more.

“What the fuck have you been doing?”

His voice came out crooked and venomous.

She flinched.

“I—I…”

Fear strangled her words.

“That rascal Dominique refuses to listen to me. He’s not even interested in the wedding arrangements.” His face twisted with fury. “Can’t you lure a single man? If he refuses to marry you, I swear to the Goddess I’ll skin you alive. Fucking bitch.”

Each word struck like a lash.

“I’m s-sorry,” she whispered, fingers curling so tightly her nails dug into her palms.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with your sorry?”

His eyes blazed.

“I can’t even hit you because of that bastard Dominique. Just looking at you makes my blood boil.”

Then he turned to the guard.

“You. Slap her.”

Éliane froze.

The guard hesitated.

“You want to die?” the king roared. “Slap her! And if it isn’t hard enough, I’ll rip you to pieces!”

The guard stepped forward.

“My king”

The slap cracked across her face before she could finish.

Her head snapped sideways.

Pain exploded across her cheek.

Then came the second strike.

Harder.

A brutal backhand that sent her sprawling to the floor.

The taste of blood flooded her mouth.

Warm drops trickled from the corner of her lips.

Her ears rang violently.

The room blurred.

She barely registered her father’s shouting.

Only when the guard fisted her hair and yanked her upright did awareness slam back into her.

“Flog her,” the king hissed.

Dominique won’t find out. And if you tell him…” His voice dripped poison. “I’ll kill those little sisters of yours. I’ll hand them to Roy. You know how skilled he is at torture.”

Terror seized her.

“No… please…”

Another guard entered carrying a whip.

“This is your lesson,” the king snarled. “You’ve been idling like useless filth instead of trapping Dominique.”

The first lash struck.

A scream tore from her throat.

Agony ripped through her back like fire.

The second.

The third.

By the fourth, her knees hit the floor.

By the tenth, she lay collapsed and trembling, blood soaking through her dress.

Her back burned like molten iron.

Darkness clawed at the edges of her vision.

“Tell Dominique,” the king spat, “and your sisters die.”

Then he ordered her dragged away.

The infirmary.

The doctor treated her wounds with detached efficiency.

And afterward, she was discarded onto her bed like broken furniture.

She couldn’t move.

Tears streamed endlessly down her face.

The door burst open.

Clarisse and Colette rushed in.

The moment they saw her torn back, a broken cry escaped them.

They dropped to their knees beside her, sobbing uncontrollably.

Colette swore through tears that one day she would hurt the king.

Despite the pain, Éliane managed a weak smile.

“I’m alright,” she whispered. “Please don’t cry. Your sister is strong.”

To prove it, she tried to sit up.

The movement sent fresh agony tearing through her, stealing her breath.

“I hate Father,” Colette choked out.

“Shh.” Éliane’s voice trembled. “The walls have ears.”

Her own tears would not stop.

“I’ll heal in two days.”

“The king always does this,” Clarisse sobbed. “As soon as you heal, he hurts you again. Your skin is torn apart…”

Helplessness crushed her chest.

She could shield them from physical harm.

But she could not protect them from the trauma of seeing her broken.

If only she were stronger.

Clarisse and Colette fed her small bites of food between their sniffles.

She barely managed a few morsels.

That night, they cried themselves to sleep beside her.

But Éliane remained awake.

Pain kept her prisoner.

As moonlight spilled across the room, she stared into the darkness and wondered—

Would she ever truly be free of this hell?

Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Chapter 1