Reborn As Cursed Alpha's Mate Novel

Asara, goddess of love, earns exile for her mortal transgression—a forbidden bond with a shifter Alpha. Reborn as Cassandra LeBlanc, a magicless princess of the Kingdom of Speldaria, she faces shame from her own family. Stripped of her divine identity and power, only her middle sister offers acceptance in a court that deems her worthless.

Her betrothed, a powerful mage commander, spurns her weakness. Her fate changes when the Alpha of Dusartine presents her with a warrior slave and demands her participation in the Yearly Arena Event. Cassandra despises the Arena—a bloodthrone where death flows freely and human life holds no value.

Yet this mysterious warrior ignites dangerous awakening within her. His hypnotic gaze destabilizes her composure. His rare essence overwhelms her defenses. His bronzed, muscular presence fills her with forbidden desire. Fragments of a past life she cannot claim haunt her nights.

When the Arena begins, concealed agendas unravel and destiny forces her hand. Cassandra discovers the curse binding her to this realm—and learns the devastating truth of her origin. Can she reclaim her magical abilities and challenge the god of thunder? Who will aid her when everything crumbles? The warrior's touch promises salvation, yet harbors secrets all his own.

Then she felt him completely—his ruggedness, the softness of his mouth, the iron grip encircling her waist. His muscular frame against her milky skin ignited tiny sparks across every point of contact. These memories flooding her mind belonged to another life, yet his touch felt achingly familiar, not foreign. She craved his embrace; she knew it was forbidden.

Cassandra struggled against his hold, but his arms refused to yield. Her light garment had ridden up her thigh, baring her skin against his bronzed leg. Then she felt it—that undeniable proof of his desire.

"Let go!" she gasped, panic flooding through her.

Siroos slowly shifted his leg and loosened his grip, though he'd been awake long before she stirred, curious what she would do. His molten gold eyes opened with deliberate slowness, burning with softness and want. Brown curls fell across his face as he observed her timeless beauty. Her singular fragrance was exquisite torture—he ached to pull her back, have her beneath him, taste the skin driving him mad.

Instead, he bent his arm beneath his cheek, watching her with eyes full of desire.

The silence stretched. Cassandra cleared her throat. "Did you have to climb on me to sleep?"

"Not intentional," he murmured, his deeply hypnotic voice more alluring in the dawn stillness. "But enticing. And definitely not the last time."