Introduction
Just as I was leaving, I got a text from that new male student of hers—attached was a photo of him shirtless, wrapped around her sleeping form with a caption that screamed pure provocation:
[If you really loved her, you wouldn't trap her with marriage. Can't you see she doesn't want this?]
When she finally picked up my call, her tone was beyond annoyed.
"Colin's having a meltdown over mixing the wrong colors, and if this piece gets ruined, it's on you. A marriage certificate is just a piece of paper—we'll do it another time."
She had no idea that, thanks to Colin "accidentally" spilling that cheap turpentine, my severe asthma was raging. Every breath felt like swallowing shards of glass dipped in blood.
And that "another time" she mentioned? It was never going to happen.
After hanging up, I calmly tossed the wedding ring I'd bought for her.
Then I turned and took the groom's suit from the senior who'd had a crush on me for seven years.
Chapter 1
Today was supposed to be the 99th time Sabrina and I were scheduled to register our marriage. It was also the 99th time she stood me up.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Colin, Sabrina's male student.
A photo.
A selfie taken in bed—Sabrina fast asleep, looking vulnerable in her thin nightwear, while Colin, shirtless, held her intimately from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder as he smirked triumphantly at the camera.
Then came the text:
[Vincent, stop trying to tie Sabrina down with marriage. I mean more to her than you ever will. Honestly, she doesn't want to go to the courthouse. If you really love her, let her go. She's made up ninety-nine excuses already—why can't you take a hint?]
In that moment, all I felt was a strange, dead silence.
I turned off the screen, stuffed the phone back into my pocket, and watched Sabrina step out of her car.
She walked up the steps, her brow furrowed.
She started in on me immediately. "Colin just had a complete meltdown because he couldn't get the color right. If that painting is ruined, it's on you."
"Sabrina," I said, glancing at the courthouse's closed doors, "today was registration day."
"I know," she cut me off impatiently. "It's just a piece of paper. We'll do it next time."
I looked at the woman I'd loved for seven years.
"The courthouse is closed," I said, a heavy, cold realization settling in my chest. "There might not be a 'next time.'"
She paused, and the tension in her shoulders visibly eased.
"Oh, well. Next time, then," she said with a dismissive wave. "Nothing we can do about it now. I'm heading back. Colin's waiting for me to help mix his paints. He's really upset and needs me."
With that, she turned and left.
Not even a word of comfort.
I watched her car disappear around the corner, and for the first time, it hit me clearly: maybe I didn't need to waste my life on her.
...
Back at the apartment, I found Sabrina had brought Colin over for a painting lesson.
The strong smell of industrial-grade turpentine hit me like a wall, and I nearly choked on the spot.
I have severe asthma and am highly allergic to turpentine.
Back when I used to support Sabrina's creative process, I'd even wear a respirator to help her clean her brushes.
But now, the living room had turned into a gas chamber.
And Sabrina had promised countless times to upgrade the ventilation system—she'd long since forgotten.
My violent coughing seemed to startle Colin, and his brush clattered to the floor.
When Sabrina heard the commotion, her first reaction wasn't to check on me—it was to comfort a shaken Colin.
"Vincent, can you keep it down?"
She snapped without even turning around, her voice thick with annoyance: "This painting is at a critical stage! Colin just found his flow!"
"I... can't breathe..." I forced the words out.
My throat felt like it was swelling shut, burning like I'd swallowed broken glass.
Lack of oxygen made the veins on my forehead bulge, and cold sweat instantly beaded and dripped from my jaw.
The edges of my vision began to blacken. I gripped the doorframe, my knuckles turning white, just to keep from collapsing.
Sabrina finally glanced back at me.
There was no panic in her eyes—only disgust.
"Stop being so dramatic, Vincent."
She said coldly, "It's just a little turpentine. Don't make a scene."
Sabrina always said she had a bad memory—that she couldn't remember how deathly allergic I was to turpentine, even though I'd coughed myself half to death in front of her countless times.
I used to think it was just part of her eccentric artist persona—how she didn't care about anything outside her work.
But when it came to Colin, her memory worked just fine.
She remembered his favorite "cobalt blue" had to be air-shipped from Germany. She always ordered three tubes in advance, worried he wouldn't be able to mix the exact shade he wanted.
Turns out her memory was selective.
I turned and fled the gas chamber.
I called my best friend, Sam, to take me to the hospital.
On the way, Sam slammed the steering wheel, venting for me.
"What kind of person does that? Goddammit! Vincent, if you forgive her after this, I'll shake some sense into you myself!"
I leaned back in the passenger seat, breathing through a portable oxygen tank.
At a red light, I looked out the window and saw two people in an ice cream shop.
It was Sabrina and Colin. They must've slipped out at some point.
Colin was holding an ice cream cone, smiling as he brought it to Sabrina's lips.
Sabrina was a serious germaphobe.
For seven years, she rarely even kissed me. She'd told me over and over, disgusted: "Swapping saliva is for animals. I don't like sticky, messy intimacy. Vincent, respect my boundaries."
So I respected her. I maintained our relationship like a monk.
But now, that "germaphobe genius," the woman who claimed to hate intimacy, tilted her head without hesitation and took a bite of the ice cream from Colin's hand.
My throat tightened. My heart felt like it was being torn apart.
I lowered my eyes, perfectly calm, pulled my phone from my suit pocket, and texted Sabrina: [We're done.]
The next morning.
Sabrina woke up and reached out instinctively for what was on her nightstand.
For the past seven years, I'd always left a prepared glass of milk there for her.
This time, her hand met empty air.
"Vincent?" she called.
No answer.
She sat up impatiently and walked into her studio, trying to settle her mind through painting.
She went to her palette to mix the signature color of her acclaimed work—"Sabrina Red."
But as she started blending the paints, she realized in horror that she couldn't get the perfect red, no matter what she tried.
Only then did it dawn on her that all these years, I had been the one mixing it for her.
Panic turned to anger.
Sabrina threw her brush on the floor.
She grabbed her phone and called me. "Vincent, are you done yet? Stop with this childish running away and come back here. I need you to mix my paints."
Last Chapters
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Cast out by her pack. Forgotten by the Lycans.
She lived among humans—quiet, invisible, tucked away in a town no one looked at twice.
But when her first heat comes without warning, everything changes.
Her body ignites. Her instincts scream. And something primal stirs beneath her skin—
summoning a big, bad Alpha who knows exactly how to quench her fire.
When he claims her, it’s ecstasy and ruin.
For the first time, she believes she’s been accepted.
Seen.
Chosen.
Until he leaves her the next morning—
like a secret never to be spoken.
But Kaelani is not what they thought.
Not wolfless. Not weak.
There is something ancient inside her. Something powerful. And it’s waking.
And when it does—
they’ll all remember the girl they tried to erase.
Especially him.
She’ll be the dream he keeps chasing… the one thing that ever made him feel alive.
Because secrets never stay buried.
And neither do dreams.
Tango 2 the Alpha's Heart
My gaze snapped to his. He was smiling, causing my heart to skip a painful beat. Before I could respond, the music began, and my body instinctively reacted to the sweet melody.
I found myself molded to Lex's will, my feet irresistibly following the dance steps.
The crowd gasped as Lex pulled me into a more intimate position, his hands roaming over my body in a seductive manner.
The experience was both terrifying and magical, allowing me to feel every longing emotion through the dance.
I soon found myself lost in his arms.
When the music finally stopped, my arms were wrapped around his neck, his hands resting on my back, our noses almost touching. He gazed deeply into my eyes.
The ballroom fell silent.
Was he about to kiss me?
Lilly’s life was never easy; she lost her memory and family in a blazing fire. Angelica found and took her in—only to make her a slave to the household.
Years of torment and abuse left Lilly weak, vulnerable, and believing she was without a wolf, but that didn't mean that all hope was lost.
At night, in her dreams, he would patiently wait for her—the man who brought sunshine into her darkest moments.
They would dance the night away, but as dawn approached, he would vanish into the morning sun.
Lilly had given up hope of finding a mate, having a family, and leading a normal life.
But things are about to drastically change for her...
Secrets, lies, betrayal... and a baby on the way.
What if Lilly wasn't wolf-less? What if it was all a lie?
What if she had a living family? Would she stay and bond with them or make a run for freedom?
Iron And Glamour Just Don't Mix
Well… Sometimes you just might turn out to be right.
It turns out, the fae stole my little brother. In his place? A pixie with boundary issues and a talent for home repairs.
I’ve spent my life taking care of everyone else. So when my baby brother is taken, I don’t hesitate. I walk straight into a faerie mansion and make a bargain with its infuriatingly charming master.
Kie is everything you’d expect from a dangerous fae, beautiful, political, and entirely too amused by me. Power wrapped in a smirk. Sensual, mischievous, and far too aware of the effect he has on people. He agrees to help me find my brother.
For a price.
Now I’m bound by a faerie bargain and navigating a world of glamour, manipulation, and ancient rules I definitely should have learned sooner, enchanted forests, political games, magical contracts, and a fae lord who treats seduction like a perfectly reasonable negotiation tactic.
Iron is how I keep people out.
Glamour is how he draws them in.
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The Rejected White Luna
"No... You can't do that."
Those words shattered Aria's world in front of the entire pack.
As the daughter of the Alpha of Silver Moon Pack, Aria was born with a powerful legacy. But with a weak wolf that could never shift, she became a disappointment in the eyes of her own people. She was mocked, ignored, and treated as a weakness instead of the future Luna she was meant to be.
She believed finding her fated mate would finally change everything.
Until Kael rejected her publicly and chose another.
"Because a mate who cannot shift is no mate at all. She's a weakness. And weakness spreads."
Broken but refusing to surrender, Aria leaves the only home she has ever known. But fate has a different plan waiting for her.
When she crosses paths with another powerful pack, Aria discovers a shocking truth: she has been given a second chance mate. The only problem? She never expected him to be someone who could change her entire destiny.
With a new bond awakening hidden powers within her, Aria is no longer the weak wolf everyone looked down on.
Now she has the chance to make those who hurt her pay.
But when Kael realizes the woman he rejected has become the one person he cannot lose, he wants her back.
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Tempted By The Enemy
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Bride To The Werewolf King
Tango with the Alpha's Heart
“He met her at the Alpha training camp,” he said. “She is a perfect suitor for him. It snowed last night, indicating that his wolf is happy with his choice.”
My heart sank, and tears made their way down my cheeks.
Alexander took my innocence last night, and now he is taking that thing in his office as his Luna.
Emily became the laughingstock of the pack on her 18th birthday and never expected the Alpha's son to be her mate.
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My Perverse: You're mine, you son of a bitch
Vincenzo Valentini is a man who sees the world as a business counter and human beings as merchandise.
The owner of an empire built upon corpses and submission, he is the reflection of pure perversity.
When fate places Andrew Thompson, the son of his greatest rival, into his hands, the plan was simple: use him, break him, and discard him like a toy that has lost its appeal.
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Vincenzo never wanted redemption. He never wanted someone to save him from his own darkness. He was seeking a mirror. And in Andrew, he found the partner who, upon seeing his blood-stained hands, does not recoil in terror, but trembles with desire.
In this perverse game, the "little toy" proves to be the perfect executioner. The mafia leader found someone who not only accepts his cruel side but cultivates it, feeding the monster Vincenzo has always been.
Where there should have been fear, lust emerged. Where there should have been hatred, a perverse loyalty was born. Andrew Thompson is the dark reflection of Vincenzo, the soldier the underworld did not see coming, and the man who proved that, for some, paradise only makes sense if it is in the middle of chaos.
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The enforcer's redemption
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