Auctioned To The Damned King
526 Views · Ongoing · RoguePumpkin
On the night of my wedding, what lay before my feet was supposed to be a gift. I got a dead body instead. And I have to take the blame.
Sophyne is the lowest of her kind—a Dhamir with short fangs, weak blood, and no power. Her fated mate whispered forever, then married her cousin and framed her for murder. Forced to confess to a crime she didn't commit, she escapes, only to be betrayed again, captured, and sold north in chains.
There, in the frozen kingdom of the Night Sovereign, Kaelith Veyl-Noctis has ruled for nine centuries. He's dying—cursed by a dead god, his veins crawling with black vengeance. Only the Forsaken Bride can save him: a woman betrayed on her binding night, carrying blood that sings to his.
Sophyne is that bride. She just doesn't know it yet.
When she runs from slavers and crashes into his horse, collapsing at his feet in a crowded market, the bond ignites with primal, irreversible force. She is his cure. His mate. His obsession. He lifts her like she's already his and calls her his darling Dhamir with a tenderness that terrifies her.
But her traitor husband is rallying armies to reclaim her. Her cousin wants her dead before the truth spills. And if Kaelith can't complete the bond before the curse consumes him, they will both die.
He's waited nine centuries for her. He's not letting go now.
Sophyne is the lowest of her kind—a Dhamir with short fangs, weak blood, and no power. Her fated mate whispered forever, then married her cousin and framed her for murder. Forced to confess to a crime she didn't commit, she escapes, only to be betrayed again, captured, and sold north in chains.
There, in the frozen kingdom of the Night Sovereign, Kaelith Veyl-Noctis has ruled for nine centuries. He's dying—cursed by a dead god, his veins crawling with black vengeance. Only the Forsaken Bride can save him: a woman betrayed on her binding night, carrying blood that sings to his.
Sophyne is that bride. She just doesn't know it yet.
When she runs from slavers and crashes into his horse, collapsing at his feet in a crowded market, the bond ignites with primal, irreversible force. She is his cure. His mate. His obsession. He lifts her like she's already his and calls her his darling Dhamir with a tenderness that terrifies her.
But her traitor husband is rallying armies to reclaim her. Her cousin wants her dead before the truth spills. And if Kaelith can't complete the bond before the curse consumes him, they will both die.
He's waited nine centuries for her. He's not letting go now.

















































