The Lycan King's Exiled True Mate

Thor

t. The room itself seemed to shrink, the firelight casting our shadows as monstrous, dancing figures on the wall. He sta

air from my lungs, my head cracking against it hard enough to make stars burst behind my eyes. Before I could slide to t

a low, vicious growl near my ear. His hot breath seared

, I didn't..." The words were a choked whisper, sw

control, was at war with the beast the drug had unleashed. The thought of taking me, a woman he believed to be a conniving, worthless tribute, wa

few steps. He stood in the middle of the room, his chest heaving, his hands cl

commanded, his voice strained, each word costing him an i

e go. In the midst of this drug-fueled mad

ice. I scrambled away from the wall, my legs clumsy and weak, and ran for th

nst the cold metal. Fre

he very core of his being, the howl of his inner wolf finally shattering its chains. *Mine!* The word didn't

he king was dead, and

nd was clamped around my arm, his fingers biting into my flesh like a vise. He ripped me aw

jarring my teeth. I scrambled backward, crab-walking

man were gone. His eyes were no longer silver with flecks of red;

ring its terrified prey. There was no more conflict in h

s hit the soft velvet of the sofa. I was

light from the fire. The heat rolling off his body was im

cond, I saw a flicker of something else in his golden gaze-a flicker of the man, ho

and calloused, touched my cheek with a strange, almost hesitant gentleness. His thumb s

m. He was so close, his movements so rough and yet so full of a strange, agonizin

s suf

of my fear. It was no longer just the fear of a victim. It was someth

on. He lowered his head, his lips parting, hi

corner and tracing a cold path through the

of my Alpha blood, ignited in the face of my utter despair. I would not be a passive victim. I woul