Lycan School: The Hekate's Bride

247.0K · Completed
Authoress Estevania


Rune lunges forward and cups either side of my cheeks, forcing me to look in his eyes and deeper into his dark pupils that are widening. "You will forget what happened tonight. After I leave, you will go to bed and wake up with no memory of what transpired between us." Things do not go as planned when Astrid finds herself in the wrong school, the only werewolf in a school of Lycans who are bigger, badder and stronger than she is. It only makes things worse when she is placed under the charge of her childhood enemy, Rune Wilder, who seems more than content to cause her pain. Somewhere along the line, Astrid finds out that the reason why Rune hates her so is because he is secretly in love with her, and he is only pretending because he thinks he will hurt her if they ever get together. He bears a secret that could damn him. Within him resides the soul of the dark King, King Hekate, and he has no control over him.

EmotionRomanceTeenlove-triangleWerewolfAlphaBadboyDominantGoodgirlPossessiveEroticrejectedSoul Mate


"You poisoned me!"

"And that too was your fault. You don't get to ruin my relationships because I was trying to save you from your poor taste in women and--"

Rune rears back like I have stabbed him with a sword. "My poor taste in women?"

He leans in, staring deeply in my eyes as he adds in a low, deadly whisper, "And who would you peg as the right choice for me, Red?"


I hate when he calls me that.

I want to tell him that but his fingers suddenly cup my cheek, pushing my head back so I can look at him. My body jerks from the contact and when I start to move back, I collide with the closet door.


My heart slams into my ribcage as pure, feline excitement courses through me. Perhaps it is the alcohol, but my wolf is stirring, purring with excitement.


His warm breath that reeks of alcohol tickles my nostrils and somehow, something so little has me trembling with need under his fingertips.

I shouldn't have drank so much. I think he's drunk too. This isn't right. This should not be happening.

"Hands off, Rune," I say, but there is little protest in my voice as I get swept by a warm rising ocean.

His dark eyes drop from my eyes to my lips and a sharp sound escapes him. There, in his eyes, I see a crack. The cold, ruthless demeanor of his cracks and the things I glimpse between those cracks has me melting into his touch.

"This shouldn't--"

Rune's lips slam into mine, knocking the air out of me. My world shatters. I shatter. My knees buckle and I fall.

I fall into him.

My back slams into the door of my closet, hard enough to rip the oak door, but I barely feel it. Not as a fervent, urgent need I have never known with any man fills me to the brim.

His insistent lips part my mouth, filling me with violent tremors as his tongue slides over the roof of my mouth. He presses me harder against the wall and his free hand cups my ass, pulling me against him.

I hate him. I absolutely hate him.

But I moan for him, like I never have for anyone else.

I hate that he can do this to me. I hate that my body reacts to him and betrays me. I hate Rune Wilder.

But I hate myself more.