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)

They returned approximately two hours later, making it the fastest time they ever attempted an attack after one wave. Maera had a bitter taste in her mouth as she read the radar to see them return before the Deltas could get through half of the injured.


And judging by the way that Silas grew slightly pale, she knew he shared her dread.


Maera took a deep breath as they took formation and her stomach dropped when she noticed that the newer ferals, the ones that Hades coined the term "prime ferals," were no longer the same two that had ripped through their ranks mere hours ago.


They were now four, snarling even from a distance.


Silas saw them too because he exchanged loaded glances with her. If the last wave had rendered eight dead and almost fifty critically injured, this wave would be harder won—if won at all.


Maera did not even pay her snickering son any mind. She was calculating risks and probable casualties.


Chapter 511 - Third Wave