Nothern Primal

All Frida lives for is to fight. All she has ever known for fifteen years is the fighting ring. A pet to the ringmaster who acquired her at eight years old. She remembers nearly nothing from her past, until one fateful night when her mate finds her.

******** Excerpt from story********

I see Cillian, at the centre of it all. Suited in obsidian, dark as the shadows Death shrouds themself in. Golden eyes meet mine. There is anger to them, and the swirling molten gold has now solidified. Hard as stone. His eyes move from mine to my neck...

I feel such constriction, a giant snake wraps tightly around me, forcing all the air out of my lungs, making no room for them to expand again. His fury is tangible. It grinds against my bones, shaking me. His hands flex and ball. The muscles under his suit contract. Is he trying not to shift?

He must hate me so prolifically. To see who I am and to whom I belong.

The betrayal of the moon is so evident it seeps out in a poisonous fog. Stealing our breath.

My master chuckles, "Do you still want her now beast?" he mocks. His hand comes to my head, a fistful of hair is taken, and he forces my head to the side, exposing my marred neck. I close my eyes, afraid to see Cillian's hatred.

A low growl fills the gap. I open my eyes to see Cillian's eyes still on me, on my mark. A feral expression washed over his tuned face.

"I will still have her." He claims...