A Dangerous Obsession
Three rejections. Three shattered hopes. That was what Layla experienced, all because she was different—a half-shifter in a world that craved purity. She was shunned, ostracized, and then sold out like a pawn to the most powerful being alive—the Lycan King. A ruthless ruler with a graveyard of brides, each one holding a chilling whisper of a fate worse than death.
Layla hated him. Hated the way his eyes, cold and fathomless, held no warmth for her. Hated the way his touch, a promise of something terrifying, sent chills down her spine.
* * * *
"I hate you!" I yelled, clenching my hand into a fist, my knuckles turning white.
He heaved a heavy sigh, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "You seem stressed," he stated, closing the book he was reading. I took a step backward as he walked towards me, each step a reminder of the power he had over me.
It was infuriating.
"Well, lucky you," he said, rolling up his sleeve as he spoke. "I know exactly 70 ways to ease those nerves." Finally only few inches away from me, he reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. "The first is a hug..." His voice dropped to a husky whisper as he leaned in, his warm breath tickling my ear. "And the rest... well, that's 69. What do you say about that?"
"He's insane," I thought, my heart pounding in my chest so hard I feared it would burst.
He tilted his head to the side, one of the insufferable things he does whenever he doesn't get a reaction from me, a smirk playing on the side of his lips. "What's the matter, darling?"
~
A DANGEROUS OBSESSION
Can she break free from his wildfire, or is she drawn to the flames of her own ruin?
A haunting dive into obsession, raw desire, and the razor-thin edge between love and destruction.
LYCAN KING CASSIAN
I will take her apart piece by piece, feeding the fire that grips her with every ragged breath. Like air to a flame, I’ll lay claim to every inch of her, tracing her body with a heat that sinks into her bones.
Her skin will flush, her pulse racing under my hands, and though her eyes will beg for mercy, her lips will still whisper my name. That first spark of fear will only fuel something deeper, a raw need that floods her veins like molten heat.
And just when she’s too close to back away, I’ll twist the knife, giving her a taste of the pain she craves.
She will be the moth to my flame, helpless to resist the allure of the very thing that will destroy her.