Forged Bonds

FORGED BONDS Frayed Book 3 OLIVIA LEWIN Reber Media Company Copyright © 2022 by Olivia Lewin All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction intended for adults aged 18+. Names, characters, places, and incidents described within are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons is entirely coincidental. Published by Reber Media Company Cover design by Moonpress | www.moonpress.co Created with Vellum Contents Author’s Note 1. Oswald 2. Nolan 3. Freya 4. Emmett 5. Freya 6. Freya 7. Freya 8. Oswald 9. Shan 10. Freya 11. Caspian 12. Freya 13. Emmett 14. Freya 15. Nolan 16. Freya 17. Freya 18. Oswald 19. Freya 20. Freya 21. Shan 22. Freya 23. Freya 24. Freya 25. Nolan 26. Caspian 27. Freya 28. Shan 29. Freya 30. Freya 31. Freya 32. Freya 33. Emmett 34. Freya 35. Shan 36. Freya 37. Freya 38. Freya 39. Freya 40. Caspian 41. Freya 42. Freya 43. Nolan 44. Freya Epilogue In Mated Bliss Thanks from the author! Also by Olivia Lewin About the Author Author’s Note Please note Forged Bonds contains topics that may be triggering or sensitive for some readers. This book has scenes that could be considered dub-con; please see more details on my website below. olivialewin.com/contentwarnings I’ll also note I write in Canadian English, which has slightly different spellings than American English for certain words. Find a typo? I’d appreciate you not reporting it to Amazon. Email it to me so I can fix it! [email protected] ONE Oswald Sweet blood dripped down my chin as I hurriedly sucked it down, not bothering to savour it. There was something about this blood that was different, and I couldn’t put my finger on what. Maybe it was the tantalizing aroma of cinnamon and pastries hazily drifting around me and the man I was attached to. It might have been how the blood itself tasted on my tongue, rich and flavourful like the most delicious of desserts. Possibly, it was something else entirely that made me feral with need. In any case, I sucked fiercely, pressing closer to the man with every big gulp. As my haziness faded a bit, I heard him making little noises of pleasure and a purr rumbled in my chest. He needed me. Wanted me. My hands, which were numb but regaining tingles of feeling as I drank my fill, wandered to the bulge in his pants and the back of his neck. He whimpered. I growled, running one hundred per cent on instinct. Voices spoke in the background, but I only heard vague mumbles as I detached my teeth from the man’s wrist and looked up at his face. He was familiar, and I didn’t know why. Freckles. Orange hair. Blood on his clothes. And, gods above, his fucking scent. My fingers curled around his erection and his pale green eyes widened, lashes fluttering. Did he feel the same insane lust for me that I felt for him? I leaned forward, closer to his face, my hand on his head stopping him from moving away. He didn’t try, anyway. His breaths sped up, chest heaving, and our lips brushed. The people behind me got louder, and a hand touched my shoulder. I whipped away from the man to push away the person touching me with a hiss. Well, an attempt at a hiss. It was a cross between spitting and a growl, in reality. Why couldn’t I hiss? Why did I feel the urge to in the first place? A winged man stepped back with his hands raised in surrender, gently maneuvering himself to stand in front of the other people in the room. He didn’t smell horrible, or threatening, but his scent wasn’t cinnamon and fresh baked pastries, and I didn’t want him anywhere near what was mine. Turning my attention back to my delectable snack, I pressed close again, clutching him and inhaling at his neck. An urge hit me. Not a desire for his blood, but a desire for more. To own him. No one could smell this good and not belong to me. My fangs throbbed, decreasing in size a fraction. This time when they sank into his skin, it wasn’t so I could draw more blood from him. Instinctively, I knew taking more would harm what was mine. Instead, my fangs pressed into him and a bond snapped open, desire flowing through it in both directions. My little mate cried out, body jolting. With my hand pressed to his bulge I felt him come, felt the dampness seeping through the fabric. I would have come too, if half my body wasn’t still oddly numb. When I removed myself from him I licked the wounds closed, purring at the mark it left behind and nuzzling against his neck. Hands touched me again, but they didn’t give me a chance to react this time. I was pulled away from him by multiple people, despite my thrashing and growling. Every part of me was slowly waking up, giving me more range of motion to try and escape their hold and get back to what was mine. The only thing stopping me from losing myself in rage was having him in my sights and knowing there was no one else by him. He was mine. If they touched him, I’d kill them. “Oswald.” A feminine voice came from in front of me, and I refocused my attention away from him. The woman was familiar, too. I had a niggling feeling I should know who everyone here was, but her especially. A deep inhale had her scent filling my nose, somehow a touch more tantalizing than even my cinnamon mate. She was vanilla and coffee, sweet yet bitter, and she