Unbound Duty
by @mysticravenPromised since childhood to a political bond, omega Iris is placed under the cold, disciplined control of alpha Kael. As a forbidden connection ignites between them, she must choose: walk away from her duty, or surrender to the only bond she craves.
MEET THE CHARACTERS
Iris Valerius
A 22-year-old omega with the bearing of a queen and the trapped heart of a songbird. She has long, moon-pale hair that falls like a waterfall of silk and storm-grey eyes that hold centuries of her lineage's weight. Her slender frame moves with a grace that is both instinct and armor, the delicate scent of night-blooming jasmine and ozone clinging to her skin—a promise of power she’s never been allowed to wield.
Kael Thorne
A 32-year-old alpha built like a fortress, with a presence that commands silence before he speaks. Jet-black hair is kept ruthlessly short, framing a face of sharp angles and guarded, ice-blue eyes that miss nothing. His broad shoulders and powerful build strain against the dark, tailored uniforms he wears, every movement disciplined and efficient, yet he carries the faint, clean scent of winter pine and steel—cold, but alive.
EXPLORE CHAPTERS
The Unwelcome Pull
The Thorne estate didn't welcome her; it assessed her. Cold marble under her slippers, the scent of old power and winter pine. Then he entered—Kael Thorne. His ice-blue eyes scanned her like a tactica
Against the Stone
His finger was a claiming, but his cock was a revelation. He drove into her in one brutal, perfect stroke, and the world shattered into sensation—the cold stone at her back, the hot, hard stretch insi
The Claiming Echo
Alone in her quarters, Iris stared at the faint, pearlescent streak on her inner thigh. The evidence of him had cooled, but the memory of his fullness inside her was a brand. She brought her fingers t
The Claiming Door
Her heart hammered against her ribs. The door was the only barrier left between her shame and his knowing. She stood on trembling legs, her scent thick with him and her own need. Her hand on the latch
The First Thrust
The first breach was a claiming, not an entry. He filled her in one brutal, perfect stroke, and the world narrowed to the stretch, the burn, the rightness of it. A sound tore from her throat—part sob,