The Art of Chaotic Divinity - Chapter 221: Just Cleaning Up Trash!

Damon’s lips twisted into something between a smirk and a sneer. “Sisters or not, I kept them alive so you could watch me rip off their heads one by one. That’s the only reason they’re still breathing.”My jaw tightened. “You wouldn’t.”He leaned closer, his voice lower. “Wouldn’t I?”“You kept them alive?” I repeated his words slowly, my voice cracking with disbelief. “Just so I can watch you kill them?”Damon stood tall, his eyes twirled with something sinister, his expression was like a carved stone. “Yes,” he said flatly. “You cared enough to protect them. Now you’ll watch as I end them.”My chest tightened. The air grew too thick to breathe. “You’re cruel.”“I’m Alpha,” he replied, his tone cold, without a shred of mercy. “Mercy gets people killed.”‘Psychotic bastard. I wish I could drive a knife into your chest right now!’~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~When Ember opened her eyes, she was no longer the powerful, independent woman she once was.Instead, she woke up in the fragile, abused body of a lowly Omega—destined to be nothing but a breeder for the Alphas.Her escape attempt didn’t get her far. Instead, it led her straight into the path of Damon Blackthorn—the ruthless Lycan King feared by all.Sold like a slave by her own father, Ember becomes the property of a man with a frozen heart and a violent temper. But beneath her submissive mask lies something more: a cunning mind and a will that refuses to break.Now, in a world ruled by dominance, power, and ancient bloodlines, Ember must do more than just survive.She must outsmart a king.She must earn the loyalty of the very people who scorn her.And maybe—just maybe—she’ll bring the Alpha to his knees.

The flapping of the wings of butterflies in the Gulf of Mexico may cause hurricanes in North America. This is the so-called butterfly effect. So a military history lover was born in France at the end of the 18th century and the beginning of the 19th century, what effect would it cause? The powerful British Empire Navy fleet was wiped out in front of him, and the brutal Cossack cavalry trembled in front of him. ． ． ． ． ． This book is purely fictitious, please compare it with real history by mistake! ) (I implore every friend who reads the book to help collect it, thank you!)

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- Description from novelbuddy

Elia is a poor university student until the night she’s taken to the world of the Anima—ruled by humans whose ancient hearts pulse with the blood of animals. There she’s forced into a battle to the death. But when Elia survives, and refuses to kill her final opponent, the King must either kill Elia himself, or take her as his mate.

Reth, the brutal King of the Beasts with the blood of lions, shocks everyone when he chooses the weak, human Elia to become his Queen. He promises her every comfort of his wealth and position—but he is clear: She will not warm his bed. He chose her to defeat those that were trying to corner him into blending his Leonine line with the Wolves.

Elia needs the help of the Anima to become stronger and rule them well. But the vengeful Wolves see only a weak human that brought them shame. As Elia and Reth grow closer, the wolves are determined to destroy her. Will Reth and Elia admit their feelings for each in time to fight for the Kingdom—and their lives—against the villainous wolf-tribe? Or will the wolves kill Elia and steal the throne?

[Mature content - no sexual violence]

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He stalked towards her, chin low so the shadow cast by his hard jaw cut across the thick fur collar of his vest. His hair had fallen over his eyes in the scuffle, so he peered at her through it like a lion in the grass. With each step, his graceful, rolling gait reminded her of a predator stalking its prey. Despite the forest floor littered in twigs and leaves, he didn’t make a sound.

“Wh-who are you?” Elia stammered, backing away, her hands up. He met her step for step until she came up hard against the tree behind her—and didn’t stop until he loomed over her, so broad his shoulders and chest made a wall in front of her. She could feel the heat rising off his skin in the cool, night air.

“I am the Leonine King.” His voice was a dark, husky gravel. Behind him a chorus of wheezes, howls, and chirps of agreement rose from the people watching. “And you are?”

“Elia,” she breathed.

“Elia,” he growled, leaning in closer, bringing with him the scent of pine and rain and the musk of something distinctly male. “I am Reth.” He said the name with a strange, guttural roll in his throat. “I am King of Beasts. I am Clan Leader, and I am Alpha of WildWood.” Several snarls rose from the crowds behind him then, but he ignored them.

Elia swallowed as he leaned in until the scruff on his jaw rasped her cheek. “I am the King,” he said, “And you will be my mate.”

The forest behind him erupted.