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https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08VGTLMG2/

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https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08VGTLMG2/

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https://www.amazon.com.au/Claimed-as-Theirs-Kryssie-Fortune-ebook/dp/B08VGTLMG2

Blurb

When she is captured and thrown into a cage filled with ravenous vampires, Gwen assumes she will be devoured. But among the horde is a huge, terrifyingly powerful berserker who has other plans for her. She will belong not only to him, but to all of the vampires of his triad, and her beautiful body will be theirs to use and enjoy as thoroughly and shamefully as they please.

Gwen soon learns that her new masters will demand obedience from their little human, and it isn’t long before her defiance has earned her a painful, humiliating spanking. But even with tears still running down her blushing cheeks, her helpless arousal cannot be denied, and as she is claimed and ravaged again and again her pleas for mercy are soon lost amid her cries of pleasure.

Publisher’s Note:

Claimed as Theirs is a stand-alone novel set in the same world as Taken as Theirs.

It includes spankings and rough, intense sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

Excerpt

Gore’s

stomach plummeted. This newcomer—this human—completed him. He’d never looked for a mate, never

intended to take one, either. Now fate thrust her on him. He didn’t know how to deal with that.

His mating instinct hit him in a bomb blast of possession and need. Resentment too, but he still wove dark sensual fantasies around her. He was menacing and terrible, a vampire to be respected and feared. Touching her eased the ever-present anger churning in his gut. Helped him forget how everyone, his parents included, rejected him for his berserker heritage, too.

His fury that the fates dumped her on him faded when he stroked her arse. The way she wriggled against his shoulder added a swagger to his gait. Need swamped him, and if he didn’t bury his cock balls-deep in her cunt, he’d explode. This tiny woman with her brilliant red curls and generous curves was temptation and sin.

All this eternal love stuff wasn’t for him. His parents had taught him that. Not that he’d stand by while the mob got their hands—or their fangs—on her. She roused unwelcome, carnal instincts within him, but he protected his own.

Her defiance impressed the hell out of him. Few creatures, whatever their species, had the guts to start a fight they couldn’t win. When the conditions killed her—and they would—he’d be hollow inside. That or he’d go into a tailspin of violence and out-of-control rage. Confused and conflicted, his thoughts scrambled. She’s an anchor, to weigh me down, but I’d die to protect her.

His throwback heritage made him stronger and meaner than most. He’d never expected to be part of a triad or to become the left hand of the true vampire king. He took pride in his role, stopping trouble before it started. Without Bronte’s calming gaze and his muscular backup, the blood-hungry vampires in here would have turned on each other in a last-man-standing bloodbath.

Protecting the weak came naturally to him. Bronte and Plato might overrule him, but never in public.

Cock hard, brain reeling, he caressed his human’s curvy arse. She shivered at his touch. Everything about her made him want to throw out his chest and scream Mine. He pictured himself screwing her until she collapsed in an exhausted heap beneath him. It curdled his stomach that he couldn’t safeguard her from starvation or the sub-zero conditions.

Her kissable lips bewitched him, and he wondered how they’d feel wrapped around his cock. His instincts screamed, Screw her into multiple orgasms. Their fledgling mating bond meant she’d become his addiction and his delight. Had she been an immortal, she’d have craved him as desperately as he did her. Yeah, right back to her mortality.

Furious that fate tied him to a human, he stomped through the dungeon’s squalor. His triad brothers would guard her while he got his head straight. Only she’d die without food or warmth. His inability to supply her most basic needs drove the air from his lungs.

Most paranormal species screwed like hound dogs in heat until they found their fated mates. Then that was it for them. He didn’t do love or emotions, ever. And yet… He wanted to lay her on silk sheets and shower her with rose petals before he thrust his cock in her hot little mouth and claim her so hard she could barely breathe. When the hell did I develop a romantic streak?