Wylde: Toghat The Vile By Cara

Elara leaned into his touch, her eyes defiant. "A captive waits for rescue. A queen takes what she wants."

Toghat let out a low, cynical huff. "Men write the books, Princess. They prefer to believe they conquered a desert, not stole a kingdom." He stood, his massive frame towering over her, his presence heavy and suffocatingly warm. "They call me 'The Vile' because I refuse to give it back." Toghat the Vile by Cara Wylde

The flickering torches of the Iron Citadel cast long, jagged shadows against the obsidian walls as Toghat the Vile sat upon his throne of bone. He was a creature of myth made flesh—eight feet of corded muscle, skin the color of a bruised storm, and eyes that glowed like dying embers. Elara leaned into his touch, her eyes defiant