The Barbarian’s Bride

Taken. Bound. Claimed. Vesaria was a lady of the south, refined, educated, untouchable. Until the night the rogue Northmen came. Stolen from her home, dragged across a frozen, unforgiving land, she is forced to wed the warlord who led the raid. Khan Azgar, the Black Wolf. A beast of a man, feared even among his own kind. But Vesaria refuses to break. She fights, she resists, she runs. And yet, no matter how far she goes, he always brings her back—stronger, faster, hungrier than before. He welcomes her fight, watches her struggle with a knowing, infuriating smirk. Every act of defiance only seems to amuse him, every escape attempt only tightens his hold. "You can seethe all you want," he murmurs, his breath hot against her ear. "But you are my wife now. And whether it’s tomorrow, next week, or moons from now..." His grip tightens, his voice dark with promise. "We both know exactly where you’ll end up—under me, gasping for more." How long must she endure this before her uncle’s men come for her? If they come at all. If there’s anything left of her to save. But hatred burns close to passion. And the more she fights him, the more she feels the heat in his gaze, the possessive weight of his touch, the undeniable pull of something dangerous and forbidden. "You think I don’t see it?" he taunts, pressing her against the furs. "The way your body betrays you, little rabbit? You fight me with every breath, and yet, you shudder so sweetly at my touch." She is his prisoner. His bride. And if she isn’t careful, she won’t just belong to him—she’ll want to.