webnovel
1767645502825
Lilac_Everglade

Lilac_Everglade

Lv15

“The only way to deal with this life meaningfully is to find one’s passion and follow it, no matter the cost.” — The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera Instagram: Lilac_Everglade Email: [email protected]

2022-02-28 JoinedNigeria
465d

Writing

28.2h

of reading

313

Read books

Badges
16
Moments
2740

Sold To The Frost Alpha

Selene Jameson has always been the family stain, unwanted daughter, shadow to the golden children. The night her mother dies saving her life, Selene loses the only person who ever loved her. When Atlas D'Angelo, the boy she gave everything to, betrays her in the cruelest way possible, she vows never to beg for love again. But fate has darker plans. On the night Selene finally tastes freedom, fame, money, a future of her own her family sells her to a supernatural auction. She's thrust into a hidden world ruled by lycans who see humans as nothing more than commodity. Then he buys her. Mikhail Morozov, Wintercrest Alpha and High Alpha of the Onyx Concord. Feared across Nocturna, Lycan Realm. With a shattered past, a missing sister, and a throne built on blood and betrayal, the last thing he needs is a defiant human girl with a sharp tongue and darker humor than his sins. But Selene isn't human. She bears the Crescent, a mark of ancient power that could save the Nocturna or destroy it. When Kustav Volkov, a rival ruthless Alpha, is revealed to be Selene's father, he lays his claim on her. Mikhail offers Selene a choice: marry him in a blood-bound pact that grants her protection under lycan law. But this marriage of convenience will be anything but convenient. *** "And you smell good," I interrupted, words tumbling out before I could stop them. "Really good. Like winter but not the terrifying kind. The beautiful kind. With snow and—" I scrunched my nose, grasping for the description. "Those delicate frost patterns that appear on glass." Mikhail produced a sound deep in his chest that could've been a growl or a chuckle or something caught between. "Why are there two staircases?" I blurted suddenly, fixating on the duplicated grand stairway looming before us. "Is this intentional? Seems ridiculously excessive." "There's only one staircase, moya." "Are you certain? Because I'm definitely seeing two. Perhaps you require vision correction. Do lycans need glasses? That would be hilarious. Tiny spectacles perched on a massive terrifying wolf—" "Selene." His voice emerged strained, taut in a manner that penetrated even through my fog. "You need to stop talking." I peered up at him, hurt piercing through the pleasant haze. "Why? Am I irritating you? I'm sorry. I'll stay quiet." "No." The word escaped sharp, nearly anguished. "You're not irritating me. You're—" He severed the sentence, jaw clenching so viciously I witnessed the muscle twitch. "Just... rest." But I didn't want rest. I wanted to comprehend why his expression appeared like that—all rigid and ravenous and something else I couldn't identify. "Are you alright?" I asked, raising my hand toward his jaw. He intercepted my wrist before contact, his hold gentle yet unyielding. "Don't." "Why not?" "Because I'm barely maintaining control as it is, and if you touch me right now—" He halted abruptly, eyes compressing shut momentarily. "Just don't." That should've frightened me. The ferocity in his tone, the way his restraint appeared to unravel at the seams. But intoxicated-me simply smiled, inexplicably pleased. Then I caught the way his gaze dropped. Just for a fraction of a heartbeat. To my mouth. Heat bloomed through my chest, spreading like wildfire. "You want to kiss me," I breathed, the revelation making me giddy. His eyes snapped back to mine, glacial blue turned predatory. "Kissing," he said slowly, voice dropping an octave, "doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of what I want to do to you." The air left my lungs. His grip on my wrist shifted, thumb finding my pulse point. Pressing there. Feeling the frantic rhythm he'd caused. "Kissing is gentle," he continued, leaning in just enough that his breath ghosted across my lips. Close enough to take. Close enough to claim. But he didn't. "Kissing is sweet. What I want?" His eyes dragged down my face, my throat, lower then back up with deliberate slowness. "There's nothing gentle about it."

Lilac_Everglade · Fantasy
152 Chs

The Feral Alpha's Captive

Althea Nocturne is nothing but a wolfless omega rejected by her Alpha mate and framed for murdering his unborn heir. With a pack baying for her blood and nowhere left to run, she flees into the one place no wolf dares tread: the Red Mist, where the Hellhound of the North makes his den. Thorne Vargan is a creature of shadow and vengeance, the son of a Witch Luna burned alive by Althea's own mother. He swore to destroy everyone responsible and when Morgana's daughter stumbles bleeding into his hellish domain, he sees his chance. He claims her as a captive. As the perfect tool to gut the pack system from within. But the bond doesn't care about his plans for retribution. It doesn't care that she's the daughter of his enemy. It thrums for her with a fury that threatens to consume them both Her scent tempts the beast he's barely controlling, her fear feeds something he thought long dead while she bears secrets that could unravel everything he's built. And while Thorne keeps her caged, the Alpha she fled is coming. He wants his little omega back. But Thorne isn't letting her go. — ~Excerpt~ "Because," he said, his voice dropping to a husky growl that made my core clench, "my restraint is going to shatter if you keep touching me." The words hung in the air between us. I looked down, following his gaze, and saw it, the unmistakable bulge pressed against his pants, hard and straining. My pheromones. They were affecting him. "I would like to take you up on your offer," he muttered, his voice rugged, tipping into ravenous. Confusion whirled through me. "What offer?" "The kiss," he whispered. "Not a peck, Thea." My heart ceased beating, liquid fire filling my veins. "I want tongue.” — Dark paranormal romance Morally Grey ML Forced proximity Captor/Captive ENEMIES to lovers Fated mates Angst Smut

Lilac_Everglade · Fantasy
172 Chs

Vladimir's Marked Luna

She was sold like cattle. Now the monsters are bidding for her blood. ~ Lilith Brooks has always been the family disgrace; daughter of scandal, sister to the wanted daughter. When her mother dies and the only boy she ever loved betrays her, she vows never to beg for love again. But on the night she finally wins, fame, money, a taste of freedom but her family sells her into a nightmare. A supernatural auction. A realm ruled by wolves. And a man who buys her like property. Vladimir Dragunov is the Wintercrest Alpha, the feared ruler of the Lycan realm and High Alpha of the Onyx Concord. With a shattered past, a missing sister, and a throne soaked in blood, the last thing he needs is a defiant 'human' girl with a mouth as sharp as her mind and a humor darker than his past. But Lilith isn’t just anyone. She bears the Lunar Crest, a mark that could save or doom them all. When Kustav Volkov, an Alpha whose cursed blood runs in Lilith’s veins, comes to claim her as kin, Vladimir offers her a choice: marry him in a blood-bound pact that grants her protection… or be torn apart by the wolves because of lycan laws. But as enemies battle, conspiracies are woven, legacies burn, and forbidden attraction ignites, their marriage of convenience becomes anything but convenient. But someone from Lilith’s past refuses to accept defeat for he once knew her body… and now wants her soul. --- Excerpt He cut me off. “If it were your mother…” I froze, the words withering on my lips. He pushed on. “If it was your mother she tossed around like a rag doll…” He brought his face down, those beautiful analytical eyes boring into me. His head descended farther with the precision of a predator that knew its prey would never bolt. He knew that—whether because of pride or crippling fear—I would let his breath ghost against my face. His head didn’t just dip, it closed in, deliberate, each inch stolen. Cold pine and iron seeped into my lungs until breathing felt like permission I hadn’t given. My pulse lurched, and my skin prickled with something I hated to name. His proximity tangled danger with an ache I didn’t want to acknowledge. His voice dropped, brushing my ear—not soft, not harsh, but in that dangerous middle ground where you couldn’t tell if the next sound would be a whisper or a shot. “If I had a gun to her head, you would have acted. You wouldn’t weigh the risks in your head—you would move, shift, anything, even if it meant she would still be harmed… or die.” The timbre of his words thrummed through me, pulling heat to places it didn’t belong. “For a sliver of a chance she might survive, you would do something. Still, you refuse to move—you make excuses, you let your past bind you…” His head crept lower until he was right at my ear, his breath curling along the shell in a way that made my knees want to betray me. “Yet… you want to destroy an Alpha. Have him brought down to his knees." *** Dark Fantasy Romance Possessive ML Angst Rival love interest but no love triangle High stakes drama High sexual tension Smut(Of Course)

Lilac_Everglade · Fantasy
112 Chs

Hades' Cursed Luna

In a world where Lycans and werewolves are sworn enemies, Eve Valmont is a werewolf cursed by a prophecy and framed. Betrayed by her own pack and imprisoned for years, her fate takes a darker twist when she is offered to the Lycan King, Hades Stavros—a ruler feared for his ruthless conquests and deadly prowess. Bound by an ancient prophecy and haunted by the ghosts of her past, Eve is now at the mercy of the one being she should hate and fear the most—The Hand of Death himself. Hades, a king carved from blood and his own soul's decay, determined to avenge his family's slaughter and rid his people of the werewolves. He believes Eve is the key to his victory. To him, she is nothing but weapon foretold by prophecy, a tool he will wield to destroy the opposing forces threatening his pack. Yet, he finds himself craving this powerful yet broken woman. Leaving him questioning if she is truly his weapon or the one destined to unravel his carefully laid plans. *** He stalked toward me, a predator closing in on its prey, his eyes dark and unreadable. "So, you laugh?" His voice was low, dangerously soft, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how difficult it had become to breathe. "Hades, I—" "But you only laugh at other men's jokes," he interrupted, his gaze piercing, devoid of any humor. "Not your husband's." The accusation in his tone was sharp, slicing through the air between us. A nervous chuckle escaped me. "You can't be serious... He’s your beta, for Goddess’ sake." In an instant, he closed the distance between us, so fast it left me breathless. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against his body, the heat of him making my skin tingle. I gasped, but before I could say a word, his lips crashed onto mine, claiming my mouth with a force that sent shockwaves through me. The kiss was punishing, hungry—I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. When he finally pulled back, I was trembling, my chest heaving as I struggled to regain my breath. His eyes, dark and stormy, searched mine with a possessive intensity. "You can’t laugh at my jokes..." he whispered, his voice a dangerous rasp as his fingers trailed lower, sending a shiver down my spine, "but you’ll come with my fingers." I shivered, heat pooling low in my belly at his words, his touch. The world around us blurred, fading into nothing as his hand slipped lower, drawing a ragged gasp from my lips. The look in his eyes told me he knew exactly what he was doing to me, and there was no denying the primal connection between us in that moment. "I don’t need your laughter," he murmured against my skin, his breath hot on my neck. "I’ll have every other part of you instead." **** Dark fantasy romance Morally Grey ML Angst Suspense ENEMIES to lovers Smut (like sprinkles on your ice cream)

Lilac_Everglade · Fantasy
538 Chs