MAGIC CLAIMED
In this savage why choose romantasy, fated mates, dark obsession, and pack devotion ensnare one broken heroine in a ruthless game of survival, longing, and revenge with three lethal wolf shifters.
A prophesy that rules me.
A curse that ruins me.
A wolf shifter pack who claim I am theirs.
It wasn’t my choice to be sold to a powerful psychopath by my mother when I was a baby. It wasn’t my choice to be tortured for magic I don’t possess but no-one says no to Esoti and lives.
Except me.
There are worse things than death. Not dying, for one.
In a world ruled by The Six, anyone magical is put to death, shifters are slaves and I am the lowest of the low. Until Alpha wolves Alerick, Jarom and Eike capture me. The thing is, I don’t want to be anyone’s Mate, or toy, or plaything.
They insist I’m anything but human, mastering my body and unleashing ancient magic hidden deep inside me.
The magic is untamaable. Unpredictable. But it just might give me the one thing I’ve always dreamed about—revenge.
Read if you like:
🐺 Why-choose/reverse harem romance with three protective alpha wolves who each bring something different to the relationship
🔥 Enemies-to-lovers tension where suspicion and mistrust slowly burn into devotion
⚡ Hidden magical powers and ancient Fae magic that could reshape the world
💔 Trauma recovery romance where love becomes the key to healing deep wounds
🌙 Shifter world-building with soul bonds, mate connections, and pack dynamics
✨ Magical systems featuring ley-lines, golden magic, and power that responds to emotion
👑 Enslaved heroine breaking free from her chains and discovering her true strength
🗡️ High fantasy stakes where personal choices affect the fate of entire worlds
💫 Found family themes and the healing power of belonging after a lifetime of isolation
🔥 Steamy romance balanced with deep emotional connection and character growth
⚔️ Political intrigue and dangerous spy games with deadly consequences
🌟 Strong heroine who refuses to be saved and insists on saving herself
Content notes: This book contains mature themes, steamy romance scenes, references to past trauma, and fantasy violence. Intended for adult readers. Check trigger warning on the authors web site.
CHAPTER ONE
Cook's jowls wobbled as she stabbed me with a stare that might have burned if I cared what she said. Maybe it would have if not for the shadow of ingrained fear in the depths of her eyes as she slid the tray across, piled with more food than I ate in a month. "Take this to his Lordship and take care not to drop it, vermin." She stepped away as though I carried a communicable disease and her ample backside hit the workbench behind her. The delicious aroma of Esoti's dinner teased my nostrils.
Esoti. My master, my ruler, the insane immortal lord of this land.
Esoti, my jailer.
My torturer.
I would kill him if I could, and leave the bones for the wolves, but the Gods have never answered my plea.
"Get out of my kitchen lest I have to scrub the stones you stand on." She wiped her hands on the cloth tucked into the band of her apron, the ties pulled tight between her first and second stomach rolls. Her gaze flicked to the door behind me, fast and nervous, willing me out.
I gave her a hard stare, satisfied when her face paled, then hefted the tray. Scullery maids darted out of my way as I stepped into the dark hallway that would take me from the kitchen to my master. I didn't give them a backward glance as I walked from the kitchens through the castle's underground labyrinth. Firelight without warmth danced across rough stone walls.
It didn't matter what I might or might not say. Prejudice isn't based on fact or logic. It was far too insidious for that. Instead, it relied on years of decayed judgments born of unjustified opinions about circumstances that happened to nameless ancestors who'd passed to their next life generations ago.
Lucky dogs.
My fate was never as simple as death. I was one of the unfortunate ones, born with natural magic in my blood. I don't know where it came from, since I remember nothing of my parents, and if I could cut the magic out of myself, I would. It made me different, something to fear, and people want to destroy what frightens them. If it were that easy for me, my nightmare life would have disappeared, a forgotten footnote in nobody's history book.
Fate labeled me a pariah while I'd been too young to know better. An anomaly that nobody understood, and what society didn't understand, they shunned. It was ironic. I couldn't wield spells or cast enchantments any more than I could stop the sun from rising in the morning and setting at night. The magic in my blood was my inability to stay dead, an unwanted immortality that returned me to life no matter how I died.
If there was a way to end the nightmare of my existence, I would have done so long ago.
I rounded a corner and headed for the five flights of stairs that would take me to Esoti's quarters. Life in this part of the world was filled with stairs and hills. What was once known as the Swiss Alps was now Exertor. The Six had renamed the world when they'd seized power after the Bloodthirsty War a millennium ago. As a member of The Six, Esoti could live anywhere in the world he wanted to, and he had chosen this fortified castle surrounded by a landscape of inhospitable mountains.
His living quarters were on one entire floor, while I didn't have a broom closet to sleep in. A being as powerful as Esoti could do whatever he pleased while the lowest lived in the shadows. Except when called upon to serve.
My stomach turned to lead as I made myself walk the well-worn path to Esoti's rooms, wondering what he might do to me this evening. I was his gutter-rat. His vermin. His slave. His beating post when he was angry, or frustrated, or whenever he felt the urge to lash out.
I was indestructible and he hated anything he couldn't destroy. My crime was existing. Breathing in a body I'd never asked for, waking up in a life I didn't want. Yet his loathing held steady, as constant as stone and just as cold.
I tensed beneath the band of silver that encircled it. Esoti had placed this collar around my neck. A mark of ownership, declaring my status as a slave and a tool for his control. I couldn't remember a day without it; he'd locked it around my throat when I was just a child. I'd clawed at it over the years, desperate, tearing at my own skin until I bled, but it never loosened. The silver stayed fixed, immune to pain or pleading. No matter how hard I tried, it wouldn't budge. Not for blood.
Not for broken fingernails.
Not for anything.
Every part of my life belonged to Esoti. He controlled my every movement. Every choice. My days were reduced to answering his demands. Drawing his bath, scrubbing his clothes, changing his sheets, delivering his meals. Again and again, at his command. There was never a moment that was mine.
There was no choice.
But then, few did have choices. Every being, magical and non-magical, shifter and human, bowed to The Six. Their laws wound through every inch of this world, binding us tighter than the collar on my neck.
If anyone else saw what I endured day after day, maybe they'd see the truth of our beloved rulers, see those all-powerful leaders for what they were. Not that it would change anything. The Six were untouchable, but at least everyone would see the invisible chains that bound us all, and know the choices they thought they had were just part of the lie they told us.
In the end, it was easier to believe the lie. The hope for a scrap of magic they bestowed, a taste of power over someone else no matter how tainted or dark it was, kept most people in line.
I passed a guard. He didn't move a muscle, but his eyes tracked every move I made and his fist tightened on his long-handled axe. I gave him a death stare and smiled when he flinched.
I made my way up the third flight of stairs and past another guard to a blind spot. I shoved a roll into my mouth and slipped another into the deep pocket of my ragged skirts. My stomach clenched. Cook wouldn't allow me back into the kitchens unless Esoti requested more food for the night, and gods knew she made nothing for me.
Even as a young girl, I was given nothing. One of my first memories was Cook smacking my hand away from a bruised apple when I'd been so starved that I dug through kitchen scraps for food. She picked me up and sent me flying out of the kitchen, shouting that the pigs should be fed before I ever needed to be. After that, I learned to steal from Esoti's tray when I could, or fight the pigs for whatever was left.
There was nothing more a slave could want except an end, which I never had. I didn't know why I couldn't die, why the magic I was born with refused me the escape I wished for. No one else born with natural magic was like me. I'd asked Esoti why. Once. He killed me, hour upon hour, for three days straight in every way imaginable, until he lost interest.
I never asked why again.
The fires from the sconces on the walls flickered. Golden globes spiraled from the tips of the flames to the ceiling and bubbled along the join where the wall met the ceiling and congregated in the corner. The small golden orbs were beautiful as they zipped and jostled along the seams, shining out of my reach. Some things in this place could be beautiful.
I dare not stop to watch their beauty though. I picked up my pace despite my weary muscles and hurried the rest of the way to Esoti's personal chambers, knowing he would be agitated if I tarried. I knocked on the door and let myself in. I kept my gaze lowered and waited. I never knew where he wanted me to set the tray, and failure to do everything he asked was met with pain.
If the magic inside me was strong enough to do more than reanimate me. If I had the power, I'd tear Esoti apart piece by piece, leave him screaming on the stones, drenched in his own blood, begging for the mercy he's never shown. I know how I'd break him. Slow. Savage. Beautiful in its brutality, but the truth is, I was helpless, left with nothing but hunger for vengeance and the hollow ache of imagining what I can never do. My arm shook with the strain of holding the laden tray.
"On my desk."
Esoti stared through the window as he sprawled in the chair behind his desk. His thick salt and pepper hair spiked in all directions. He rubbed the stubble on his cut jawline with long, lean fingers that hadn't seen hard work in millennia. The way he sat, his strong hooked nose was in profile, as were his smooth brow and chiseled cheeks. For such an evil son-of-a-baseless-whore, he was handsome, but I'd learned that beauty hid evil well.
He twisted his favorite wand in his dexterous fingers while I set the tray on his desk and stood back, hands clasped behind my back, waiting for my next command.
"You need to take a bath more often. It's putting me off my food," he drawled.
I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw creaked. If I had access to a washing facility, I would. I used the hose they washed down the horses with, but winter was forming frost and mud on the ground and I didn't want to die of pneumonia. Again.
I dug my fingernails into my palms behind my back as Esoti spun in his chair to face me, his pale blue eyes raking over every inch of me. The edge of his lip curled in contempt. I knew what he saw: a face smeared with dirt, hair hanging in limp, greasy strands, a dress scavenged from the rag bin, three sizes too large and cinched with a threadbare scarf to keep the hem from dragging.
He picked up a steaming fresh roll and plunged two thumbs into the middle, tore it apart, then slathered a chunk of butter over the fluffy insides. My stomach twisted as he ate the doughy, buttery goodness. He licked his fingers and regarded me with consideration.
My blood turned to sleet. I understood that look. I knew what it promised. If I could run, I would, but the collar's magic would hit me harder than any blow. He wouldn't have to lift a finger to bring me to my knees.
"I've ordered a new wand from Samuel. I want you to retrieve it for me." Esoti cut a hunk of steak. His lips shone with grease while he chewed on it.
I flicked a gaze to the window. Rain struck the glass against the inky darkness. As though sensing my trepidation, wind howled and hammered against the pane.
He swallowed, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and added, "Samuel assures me this wand is powerful. The strongest he's ever crafted for me." His eyes glinted a dark, hungry kind of knowing. "When you return, I'll see what it can do. Perhaps you'll give me what I want of you and I can be rid of you forever."
Samuel was the county's best wandmaker, crafting wands powerful enough to maim or kill with a single thought. A dull ache pulsed at the base of my skull. Heat crept under my skin, but I kept my face blank, refusing to let him see how the words found every raw edge in me.
I swallowed and took the chance to speak. "In the morning?" Esoti's brow lifted. "Master?" I continued. I wished to the seven hells and back he wasn't my master, but he insisted I call him that. As if his ego needed any more of a boost.
"I find myself eager to try this new wand. You’ll go now," Esoti said.
A shadow flashed in the dark depths of his eyes as his hard gaze raked me over. Below the hem of my dress, my bare toes curled on the cold stone and dread made my limbs heavy. If I knew how, I'd give him the magic inside me he wants so much. I would gladly. Eagerly. Although I could never figure out why. I wasn't powerful. It was so weak, that apart from not dying, I might as well be human.
"That is all." His eyes were glacial. My mind supplied the rest of his sentence. Until later.
"Yes, Master." The words were sludge on my tongue when what I wanted was to tell him to fuck off. He turned to his meal, and I took it he had finished with me. I opened the door to slip through, when he said, "I'll have that roll you stole."
I froze, my gaze finding him over my shoulder. He didn't look at me. Just speared a cooked carrot and popped it into his mouth. I pulled the roll from my pocket and left it on the corner of his desk before hurrying from his quarters.
Trigger Warning
This novel contains graphic depictions of trauma, violence, and abuse that may be distressing to some readers, particularly:
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Enslavement and Dehumanization: The protagonist, Serafine, is an enslaved character, forced into servitude by a sadistic, immortal master. Her personhood is denied, her days governed by cruelty and deprivation.
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Abuse and Physical Violence: The book includes frequent and explicit depictions of physical, psychological, and magical abuse. Serafine endures repeated beatings, torture, and severe punishments from her captor and others in positions of power.
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Sexual Threat and Assault: There are scenes involving sexual harassment, threat of sexual violence, and attempted assault. Scenes of unwanted sexual advances and survival-driven sexual manipulation are described with intensity and realism; details may be upsetting or triggering.
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Collar Tightening / Suffocation: Serafine wears a magical slave collar that can be tightened at Esoti's will. This is weaponized throughout the book as a method of control, torture, and near-suffocation. Scenes involving the collar's constriction are visceral, frequent, and depicted in harrowing detail. Readers with sensitivities to suffocation, restrictive devices, or scenes of choking should approach with caution.
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PTSD, Dissociation, and Embodied Trauma: The protagonist dissociates, experiences flashbacks, panic attacks, and non-linear trauma responses. These are portrayed through immersive, body-centric language, making the experience immediate and overwhelming.
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Psychological Manipulation and Loss of Agency: Serafine struggles with intense psychological distress, loss of agency, and cycles of hope and despair. Themes of self-harm, suicidal ideation, and the aftermath of repeated violation and captivity are present.
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Depictions of Systemic Oppression: The story explores institutionalized slavery and prejudice against magical beings and shifters, including dehumanizing language, social ostracization, and systemic violence.
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Intense Magic/Body Horror: The use of magic in scenes of torture, transformation, and fight-or-flight is described in terms that may evoke body horror or extreme discomfort.
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Scenes of Death and Dying: There are sequences involving traumatic deaths, both experienced and witnessed; although the protagonist is immortal, her repeated deaths and resurrections are described with emotional weight.
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High-Stakes, Non-Linear Healing: Recovery from trauma is not linear; progress is interwoven with setbacks, flashbacks, panic responses, and emotional numbness. The narrative does not shy away from the lasting effects of abuse or the complexities of consent and intimacy recovery.
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Spicy/High Heat - This book contains explicit sexual content including detailed intimate scenes between multiple partners. Content includes graphic descriptions of sexual acts, strong sexual language, and mature themes. Intended for readers 18 and older
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Please use caution as needed. If any of the above themes or content are distressing, you may wish to prepare yourself or skip sections. Your wellbeing comes first.