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
This Perturabo is the spitting image of the mythological Hades (lord of the riches of the underworld (minerals), the generous, the just, a dry mole with a cold and domineering demeanor on the outside, warm on the inside for those who have earned it, he rules over Tartarus, in Perturabo's case the daemon factory in the Warp, and let's not forget that for the Eldar he is the god of death they follow, the only son of Chronos who isn't an imbecile by nature). If the parallels of at least this version of Perturabo are enormous, now he only needs his Persephone and Cerberus, and let's not forget the dog.