There are no heroes in this story.
Only kings and queens, conquerors and conquered, captors and the ones who try to escape them.
Lyria Ilvoria was born a queen, a woman of fire and defiance, heir to a kingdom now reduced to ash and ruin. Her father was cut down before her eyes, her crown stolen, her people slaughtered. And now, she belongs to the warlord who destroyed her world.
Vaelen D'Aratheon is not a man. He is a king built for war, his hands stained with blood, his heart carved from steel and conquest. He does not take brides for love. He does not keep queens for peace. He takes them to own, to break, to bend to his will until they beg for the chains that bind them.
Lyria swore she would never kneel.
Vaelen swore he would make her.
A war is fought between their bodies, between defiance and dominance, between the need for power and the need to ruin and be ruined. But when desire tangles with hate, when pleasure bleeds into submission, when pain becomes the sweetest form of surrender...
Who truly conquers who?
She was a queen.
Now, she is his.
And she will never escape him.
This is not a love story.
This is a battle.
And
only one of them will survive it.
This Story Contains:
