M. Sinclair

My father tried to kill me. Yet in the same moment the blade met my throat, the rot beneath Alfemir's carefully constructed front was laid bare for all to see.

My sadistic mother and god-fearing father believe I have the devil inside of me because I heal after their abuse. I accepted long ago I would die in the very place I'd been born without ever feeling the sun on my skin.

I'd made the choice to survive Broken House. I'd chosen to live instead of landing myself in an eternity of torture. At this point in my life, I shouldn't have been surprised that somehow living was more difficult than my previous suicidal ventures. At least I had my men. Three kings.

How long had I spent wanting and pleading to die? Then, at my darkest moment... I'd found a reason for hope. A possibility for something more than what had been a fairly depressing existence thus far.

Descendant of Chaos. Daughter of Magic. Two titles that I had been called time and time again, but neither of them truly fit. As I had found in the God realm, I was so much more than that—an anomaly.

The stars cry out in warning as the world eaters approach, and tensions rise as chaos reigns across every realm. Ancient primordial gods drain magic from weaker beings, and war knocks on the door of every kingdom. But no one could have predicted the key to ending it all… me.

Chaos. Magic. Love. Three elements to my life that have brought me to this point—traveling to the God realm. I know we can handle whatever the fates decide to toss our way.

They say my kind shouldn't exist. But now that the world's seen me, they can't seem to look away… I can't experience love, but somewhere along the way, I became addicted to any substance that could make me forget the beautiful curse I can never escape.

Three dominant dragon alphas seemingly have it all... except the one thing they want: me....

A simple promise I made to myself after escaping a brutal childhood of abuse and being trained to enact violence on unblessed witches. Since that moment, I've managed to survive on the streets by successfully pickpocketing....

Thrall. Dhamphyr. Empress. Each is a title that has been thrust upon me, but there’s another I’ll willingly claim for myself: Malakai’s executioner....

For years, a small kernel of hope for my freedom was all that kept me alive while imprisoned by the brutal Thaician Emperor, Malakai. Now, those wishing to return me to him threaten everything I’ve fought so desperately for....

The days have blurred together ever since he forced his blood down my throat. This is supposed to be illegal in society, but the laws don’t apply to the Vampyre King. It doesn’t matter how much I fight him off and refuse to bend to his will despite his blood running through my veins....

The devil is awake, and he’s claiming me as his. The war to take back the kingdom of Pura from the traitors is beginning…and I’ve been whisked away from everything that matters to me. He holds me prisoner at his castle, claiming nothing and no one else matters outside of us....

Turns out that hybrids aren’t as rare as we thought...but will they come to the aid of a society who treats our kind like discarded trash? Do the pure bloods deserve to be saved? While finding the answers to those questions, secrets are revealed, and emotions flare....

A reject—that’s the best way to describe how I’m treated. All because I’m a hybrid. The monarchs of hell revere pure bloodlines and perfection above all else, and in their eyes, I’m a mutt....

Love? Loyalty? Protection? Just whispers of hope, I stopped listening to. The Cold Moon Pack made sure of it—breaking me piece by piece, stripping away every part of who I was. Until they crashed into my world. Uninvited. Unapologetic. Impossible to stop.

Did we need to hold a Halloween party? No, of course not. Was I going to anyway? You better freakin' believe it. I didn't even feel bad! We needed a break! Even if it was for a day, a healthy work-life balance was essential....

The most powerful and dominant shifters at DIA are my mates. I finally shifted. I should feel relief and excitement, but instead, I'm faced with fear of the unknown.

My father is a serial killer. No big deal. I promise. Me? Upset? No. Never. In fact, it would be really easy to pretend that the man never existed in the first place… if it wasn't for the bodies. What bodies? Only about 200 of them.