{"id":254917,"date":"2026-07-13T03:53:47","date_gmt":"2026-07-13T00:53:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/bought-by-the-raven-king-english-version-ava-york-1\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T03:53:47","modified_gmt":"2026-07-13T00:53:47","slug":"bought-by-the-raven-king-english-version-ava-york-1","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/bought-by-the-raven-king-english-version-ava-york-1\/","title":{"rendered":"Bought By The Raven King English Version – Ava York (1)"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"<\/figure>\n

The crossbow came up. I saw the bolt leave the bow, saw it spinning toward my chest, and I knew I should move, should dodge, should do something. Wings wrapped around me, blocked my vision, blocked everything. I heard the bolt strike. A dull thunk, then a hiss of pain that wasn\u2019t mine.<\/p>\n

Cador stood in front of me, breathing hard, a crossbow bolt embedded in the meat of his left wing. Black blood dripped down the feathers, spattering the flagstones. He didn\u2019t seem to notice. His eyes were fixed on something behind me. I turned. Too slow. The assassin was already there. He\u2019d circled while Cador shielded me, moved through the shadows like he\u2019d been born to them. His gloved hand closed around my throat. His dagger pressed against my carotid, the same spot where Cador\u2019s thumb had rested earlier, searching for the pulse I didn\u2019t have.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t move, Raven King.\u201d The man\u2019s voice was calm. Almost pleasant. \u201cThe aunt wants proof she\u2019s dead. One little slice, and I\u2019ve got all the proof I need.\u201d The ravens fell silent. Cador stood frozen, his wounded wing hanging slightly lower than the other, his face unreadable, eyes fixed on the blade at my throat, on the man\u2019s gloved hand, on my face.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet her go,\u201d he said. \u201cI don\u2019t think so. She\u2019s worth a lot of money dead, you know. The aunt\u2019s offering double if I bring back the head.\u201d The assassin\u2019s grip tightened on my throat. \u201cNow, I\u2019m going to walk back toward that wall, and you\u2019re going to stay right where you are, and when I\u2019m over the top, you can have whatever\u2019s left of her.\u201d I grabbed his wrist. Not the hand holding the dagger.<\/p>\n

The other one. The bare one, the hand that had closed around my throat, the hand that was touching my cold, dead skin. And I pulled. The sensation was a door opening inside me, a hunger uncoiling. Heat rushed out of his body and into mine. Not slowly. Not gently. A torrent of stolen warmth that flooded my veins, poured into the hollow aching space beneath my ribs.<\/p>\n

His eyes bulged above his mask. \u201cWhat\u2014\u201d he gasped. \u201cWhat are you\u2060\u2014\u201d I couldn\u2019t stop. The hunger was too strong, too desperate. Months of cold and stillness and fading, months of stealing scraps of warmth from petals and borrowed touches. And here was life. Pure, hot, living life. Filling the empty vessel of my body. I drank.<\/p>\n

\n

his is a spin-off series to Arranged Monster Mates. We\u2019re back on Alia Terra with steamy stories told by your favorite paranormal romance authors: Eva Brandt, Lia Frost, Cara Wylde, and Ava York. Alia Terra No one remembers the world before the Shift. It was thousands of years ago, all lost, all forgotten. Scientists and historians say that before, the world was better, brighter, and our planet belonged to us, humans.<\/p>\n

There were proud countries and bustling cities, and technology was at its peak. We can hardly imagine all that. There is no proof, no written texts, no pictures of Alia Terra before the Shift. All we know is the face of Alia Terra now. The land haphazardly divided into territories, the walled cities, the poor living on the fringes, barely surviving. The monsters. The temples where young maidens can take a DNA test and be matched to one of them.<\/p>\n

Being owned by a monster is often the only way a woman can save herself or give her family a chance to not starve. But for women who are not maidens, or whose blood never found a match, there is another path. The bride market offers a desperate chance. Here, women pay a small sum to enter a public auction.<\/p>\n

Monsters bid, but in the end, it is the bride\u2019s choice. Will she go with the highest bidder, or will she choose the less monstrous? This is Alia Terra. Their world, more than ours. 1kitap1.com\/en I OLWEN stood on the auction block, third from the left, and performed the act of breathing. Shallow inhale. Pause. Slow exhale. I\u2019d practiced in front of a cracked mirror for three weeks straight, watching my reflection until the rhythm looked natural, until the rise and fall of my chest matched the women around me.<\/p>\n

\u201cLot forty-seven.\u201d The auctioneer\u2019s voice bounced off stone walls, too loud, too jovial for what this place was. He was a thick man with a red face slick with perspiration, jowls quivering as he consulted his leather ledger. \u201cHuman female. Twenty-two years. Literate. Numerate. Merchant stock.\u201d He squinted at his notes. \u201cNo diseases. No deformities. Teeth intact.\u201d A yellow smile. \u201cExcellent breeding potential, gentlemen. Shall we start the bidding at one hundred gold?\u201d<\/p>\n

I kept my gaze fixed on a point above the crowd. The rafters. Thick oak beams gone dark with age, left over from the building\u2019s days as a granary, or perhaps from less savory purposes. I didn\u2019t want to know. Easier to look up there than at the faces below. The monsters who had come shopping for wives.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

\n
\n

Table of Contents<\/p>\nToggle<\/span><\/path><\/svg><\/svg><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/a><\/span><\/div>\n