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She’s not my mate. She’s my property. From the moment I saw her—soft, fragile, human—I knew. Mine. Not in a sweet way. Not in a poetic, fated-connection way. In a rip-their-throats-out, chain-her-to-my-bed, scent-her-until-she-screams kind of way. I don’t care if she runs. I’ll catch her. I don’t care if she begs. I’ll ignore her. I don’t care if she fights. I hope she does. Because the bond is already sealed. She’s mine to protect. Mine to keep. Mine to ruin — slowly. And if the mating scent doesn’t get her first… My cooking will. Read on for alien fated mates, primal obsession, feral bonding rituals, and a possessive MMC who claims her soul before she knows his name. HEA Guaranteed!
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🇺🇸 Ship from USA · On Agora since 2025
$9.99