10000 Book(s) Related to meeting you in my dreams book 1 of the dream walk series

Rejected by her mate, forced into marriage with a cruel Alpha, Lila’s life couldn’t get worse—until she meets his twin, her true fated mate.

Trapped in a bond with the ruthless Alpha Kael, Lila feels like a prisoner, not a bride.

But when his estranged twin brother, Alec, returns, everything changes.

Alec is her true mate, the one her soul longs for—but Kael will never let her go.

Caught between two powerful Alphas who hate each other, Lila must decide: risk everything for the mate she’s destined for, or remain bound to the Alpha who will stop at nothing to claim her forever.

On that snowy night, Vincent gave Alessandro the key, the address, and a copy of Ecclesiastes his father had left behind. He said, “You’re the most irrational thing I’ve done in over a decade.”
Alessandro accepted the book but immediately stuffed all the evidence of the Calvino family’s crimes into the trash can outside the laundromat.
On the night of the final crackdown—St. Valentine’s Day—the muzzle of a gun entered the room with the morning light. Alessandro thought he could finally shed the mask he’d worn for six years. But when he looked up, he met Vincent’s gaze. Those deep brown eyes showed neither surprise nor anger. They simply looked at him quietly, as if at an ending that had long been written.
"There is a time for everything," Vincent said softly. "But I hope our time together can last a little longer."
With that, he held out his hand. It wasn’t a gesture of surrender nor a farewell; it was an invitation for Alessandro to arrest him.
Only then did Alessandro realize that Vincent had known exactly who he was from the beginning.
Vincent hadn't tested Alessandro; he'd turned these six years into a willing imprisonment, with trust as shackles and silence as a prison cell. Alessandro was to capture Vincent with his own hands, only to spend the rest of his life regretting it.
Vincent had won the bet.
Alessandro raised the barrel of his gun and finally brought the man who had trapped him for six years into the center of his crosshairs.

“Look at me.” I growled against her skin.

Her eyes fluttered open and her gaze locked on mine in the mirror. Her lips were slightly parted, eyes dark and filled with that burning desire that mirrored mine.

Good.

I needed her to see me. I needed her to know exactly who was doing this to her.

Not Rhys. But Cassian Kaldrix.


After four years, Tessa Aldren returns home only to realize she was to be married off as her father’s dying wish. Determined to make the most of a rare opportunity, she planned to seduce her lifelong crush, but that plan spectacularly backfired—now, she’s become the obsession of Cassian Kaldrix, the most dangerous man in the city.

A renowned boxer and her brother’s best friend, Cassian Kaldrix always knew she was off-limits but when he is forced to become her only safe haven from a killer on the loose, he realizes the threat isn’t the danger outside but the passion burning within.

Faced with an impossible choice, will they battle the forbidden attraction that could ruin them or surrender to the dangerous desires that promise to consume them whole?

At 2:47 AM, half-asleep, I made the biggest mistake of my life—I posted my forty-seventh secret love letter to the anonymous school forum instead of deleting it.
Even crazier? Star pitcher Caleb Sullivan found me in the cafeteria the next day, got down on one knee in front of everyone, and asked me to be his girlfriend. I thought I was living in a dream.
Until Mom told me she was getting married.
When her fiancé walked in with his son, I saw Caleb standing in our doorway—face white as a sheet, eyes wild with panic.
First love. Boyfriend. Stepbrother.
He said Mom and I were gold diggers scheming our way into his family. By Monday, he had his arm around the cheer captain, destroying my reputation in front of the entire school and turning me into the biggest joke at Seacliff High.
Just when I thought I'd drown, Zane Knight—the transfer everyone whispered about—found me in the abandoned art room.
He crouched down, those black eyes cutting right through me: "Crying won't change a damn thing, Daphne Pierce."
Brutal, guarded, but the only person who'd looked at me like I was still human.
As he walked away, something buried deep in my memory suddenly surfaced—that voice, the angle of his jaw...
Had we met before?

He was dragged onto a debate stage as a replacement.

He could barely order lunch without apologizing to the cashier.

Then he took one wrong sip from the bottle in his bag, stood up in front of six hundred people, and made the national champion forget how to answer.

My wedding day was twenty-four hours away. Then, I hacked into my fiancé's messages.
"The father first. Then the bride."
With my life on the line, I made a deal with the devil they call the Ghost—the lethal outcast my own family betrayed.
"Marry me," I offered, "and the Corleone empire is yours."
I walked down the aisle in black. He stood waiting, a promise of vengeance in his eyes. When the bullets flew, he slid a ring onto my finger—still warm from the gun. "Our contract begins now, Isabella. Let's show them what happens when you cross us."
This marriage was supposed to be a lie. But as blood mixes with vows, I'm left wondering… did I just sign a deal for salvation, or a one-way ticket to hell?

Those beautiful dark golden eyes of Cassius should have been filled with dependence and longing for me.
Not like now—bewildered, innocent, like a lost fawn.
I perched high on an oak branch, watching the man below who was being ordered around like a servant by the knight squad gathered around their campfire.
The most feared top-tier human assassin, and... my devoted hound who warmed my bed.
Three days ago, he'd vanished without a trace after getting caught in a spatial rift while searching for abyssal crystals for me.
Never imagined when we'd meet again, he'd not only lost his memory but been picked up by a bunch of self-righteous fools.
I pulled out my communication crystal and reached out to my vampire bestie Lilith: "He's gone from attack dog to puppy dog, and I'm not sure how to handle it. What should I do?"
Her reply came instantly: "Easy—make him remember who owns him."
I curved my lips into a smile, my gaze piercing through the darkness to settle on the man by the flickering campfire below.
The dancing flames illuminated his half-wet, tattered shirt, clinging to outline that lean, muscular waistline in exquisite detail.
I stared at him, silently clenching my jaw.
I wondered—when night fell and I slipped into his tent, when I bit down on that strong nape of his neck again... would this sweet, innocent pup still be able to hold back those enticing gasps of his?

At the red carpet event, Maddie, my partner of three years, in an attempt to curry favor with a popular male star, publicly humiliated me, trampling on my foot and yelling, "Ethan, you're just a backstage errand boy

. Don't interfere with Ryan's shots. Go back to carrying materials." The whole room burst into laughter; everyone thought I was a lowly sycophant forced to swallow my humiliation.

But I didn't get angry. I calmly took out my tablet, cut off all her studio's basic permissions with a single click, and immediately sent the irrefutable evidence of her breach of contract to the brand's legal department.

Three minutes later, she was completely stripped of her control and faced a multi-million dollar claim for breach of contract.

At first, she thought I was just acting out of spite, that a little charity would win me back. It wasn't until the day her assets were forcibly liquidated and she was completely blacklisted from the industry that she desperately realized: for the past three years, she had only been able to sit at the table because of my charity.

Later, shamelessly, she crawled through garbage cans, barefoot, to the airport, knelt before my bulletproof Maybach, and begged me to come back.

As for me, I simply walked onto the private jet surrounded by executives from top European conglomerates.

"Listen here, woman. Give me an heir, and I'll give you more gold than you can spend in ten lifetimes. Fail me, and I'll snap your neck myself."

The Lycan King had me pinned against the wall, blood-red eyes dead serious. I was trying very hard not to notice that his chest was about to burst through his shirt.

Here's the thing: I'm not supposed to be here. My half-blind, gambling-addicted father checked "Fertile" instead of "Fortunate" on the royal conscription form. An honest mistake — if you ignore the part where it shipped his virgin daughter straight to the most dangerous man on the continent.

I tried to explain. He didn't listen. He made me drink something black and foul called a "fertility elixir."

But what nobody in this godforsaken palace knows is that while I can't breed, I am stupidly, ridiculously, almost cosmically lucky.

Assassin slipped poison into my soup? The venom snake fell into the boiling pot first. They tried to burn me at the stake? Lightning struck the High Priest into a charcoal briquette before anyone could light a match.

And when I accidentally kicked a loose coin in the courtyard and uncovered the largest magic crystal vein in the empire — well.

Let's just say the king who once threatened to kill me is now on his knees, clutching my skirt like his life depends on it.

"Forget the heir, Elara. I just want you."

Funny how that works.

The sun dipped below the ocean, and the Sea Goddess temple stood empty. My fifth betrothal ceremony with the Crown Prince, Edric, had ended exactly like the previous four: without my groom.
 When Edric and my mother finally arrived, she grabbed my freezing hands. "Leonora, your father was injured. Edric was busy at the royal infirmary." "Be generous. Don't blame him."
 I bit my lip. "And last time?"
 My mother froze. "Last time... there was an emergency with the Royal Fleet—"
 "Was there?" I cut her off. "Last time you said my brother was ill."
 Edric paled. My mother frowned, "I...I remembered wrong! Don't be so calculating, Leonora. You'll chill the Prince's heart."
 My gaze fell upon the embroidered seashell charm tied to Edric’s belt—an item my weak, illegitimate stepsister never parted with.
 Edric rubbed his temples, his eyes full of exhaustion. "I told you I was busy. If you still won't believe me, I will ask the High Priestess to annul this betrothal."
 "No need," I broke the silence.
 He looked at me, a satisfied smile forming on his lips.
 "I'll ask her myself," I said. "From today on, we are nothing to each other."

I'm Riley. Orphan. Motorcycle mechanic. And the biggest fool in Texas.

For ten years, I thought oil tycoon Colt loved me. His adopted daughter by day, his woman by night. I actually believed his whispered promises in the dark.

Then I watched him announce his engagement to someone else.

"Your father saved my life. You're my responsibility," he said when I confronted him. Like I was some charity case. Like everything between us meant nothing.

I was never his girlfriend. I was his guilt.

But here's the thing—I never asked to be anyone's debt.

So I'm packing my tools, starting my bike, and getting the hell out of here.

I was married to Daniel for eight years. I thought we were happy.

Then I found a receipt in his car — a private OB-GYN clinic, Upper East Side. The name on it was Lydia's. My best friend's.

I drove straight to my brother Joel's apartment. Joel, the boy I raised. The only family I had left. I needed someone to tell me I was wrong.

I heard them laughing before I knocked.

I looked through the gap in the door and saw all three of them — Daniel, Lydia, and Joel — standing in the living room with champagne glasses, toasting the baby that wasn't mine.

My husband. My best friend. My little brother.

Every person I had ever trusted. All in the same room. All in on the same secret.

And not one of them had thought to tell me.

"Please—I can't—not like this—"
The Abyss was chaos. A masked stranger pressed against me from behind. The lace corset and thong weren't protection—they were an invitation.
His hand slid under my skirt, palm scorching against bare skin. The music was so loud no one could hear me.
Everything spiraled too fast.
The crowd shoved forward. I stumbled back—
Something thick and burning pushed inside me.
I went rigid.
My first time. In the middle of a crowd. With a man I couldn't see.
The mask covered his face. I didn't know his name. Didn't know what he looked like.
I didn't know if this was the worst mistake I'd ever made.
But I couldn't make myself pull away.

"She’s boring now. Dead eyes. No spark. I’m just pretending my memory is stuck at nineteen so I can punish my wife without her leaving me."
Standing in the shadows, I listened to my mafia husband confess his sick game to the doctor. By day, he played the devoted boy who once took a bullet for me, crying over my scars.
By night, he trapped me in pitch-black elevators, letting his men rip my clothes and take photos—all to make his mistress laugh.
He thought my trauma made me weak. He thought heavy sedatives would make me forget.
He didn't know I spat the pills out the moment he turned his back.
Valentino, you played me again.
But this time, I will never give you another chance. Not in this lifetime. Not ever.

The night I almost drank myself to death at a client dinner, my husband Alexander bought his first love a luxury yacht.

Maya posted it on Instagram that same night: "Best birthday gift EVER! You know who you are 💕🛥️~"

In the photo, she was in a bikini, champagne in hand, glowing with joy.

Then came the credit card alert—our joint account had been maxed out.

Before I could even confront him, Alexander called.

"Are you serious right now? Why'd you lock the card? Maya's been struggling with her depression—she needs to go sailing to clear her head! Why can't you show some compassion?"

I wanted to tell him that last night, I'd nearly killed myself closing a deal for his company.

But he'd already hung up.

Later that evening, Maya posted again—an extravagant jewelry set. The caption: "When someone truly GETS you 💎✨"

In the photo, she wore a diamond ring I never got, not even on my wedding day.

But by then, I was done caring.

Because I'd made my decision—to disappear completely.

When her father was wrongfully jailed, Ella’s fiancé Noah betrayed her for her best friend Cassandra, sending her to the disabled tycoon Sebastian to atone for a fake crime. For five years, she suffered abuse, three miscarriages and public humiliation, until she uncovered their cruel conspiracy: Cassandra stole her kindness, and everyone she trusted framed her family.
Ella faked her death to escape the endless abyss. As all betrayers perished, the guilt-ridden Sebastian traveled far and wide to seek his long-overdue redemption.

I used to be a national gold medalist in ballet.
Now I’m the 210-pound laughingstock the whole school gawks at.
I starve myself till I pass out, train so hard my knees bleed, and still the weight keeps piling on like it’s got a personal grudge.
Till the day I hear my best friend cackling in the equipment room, voice shaking with laughter:
“No matter how hard she tries, her weight will always be three-quarters of Bruce’s!”
Bruce is the 280-pound deadbeat loser who sleeps through half his classes. And me? I’m stuck to him, tied by some sick system I can’t break.
She stole my Juilliard audition direct pass. Paid guys to shove me, call me names, film me tripping over my own feet and post the clips all over TikTok.
She watches me flounder like a beached whale in the mud, barely holding back her snickers.
But she forgot one thing: mountains don’t run from streams.
They wait for the water to crash into them. And shatter into a million pieces.
Guess what? The bet’s on.

Seven years of marriage, and I was nothing but a joke.
My husband destroyed the roses I'd spent years nurturing—just to please my sister. My son, desperate for his aunt's approval, pointed at me and called me a "bad mom."
One day, the whole family took a vote to force me into donating bone marrow. Ethan, my husband, didn't hesitate. He raised his hand and said, "Erin, it's just a little bone marrow. Leah will die without you."
That was the moment my heart broke.
The surgery was a success.
When the anesthesia wore off, Ethan was gripping my hand tightly, eyes bloodshot, voice trembling with remorse. "Erin, I was a fool before. If you save Leah, I swear I'll spend the rest of my life loving only you."
He thought I'd grovel, grateful like a dog, desperate for his forgiveness.
But I just frowned in disgust and pulled my hand away as if shaking off trash.
In the dead silence, I looked at the tear-streaked man before me and asked, polite and confused:
"Sir... who are you?"

"I was born a silver-eyed oracle, yet I was exploited by my father as a blood-money machine for twelve years. On my eighteenth birthday, my family tore out my eyes and sacrificed me to the abyss in exchange for wealth and eternal life. Reborn on the day of my doom, I weave a deadly trap for my greedy father and jealous sister. And the boy next door, who hides divine power, becomes my salvation. Now, they have all met their end, and he will lead me to begin a new life."

This was the ninety-ninth time Shen Yunxiao had disappeared during my heat period.
This time, as always, I found traces of him through my sister Shu Lan's Moments.
[Heat season is here again~ Luckily, someone's been guarding me nonstop for seven days straight.]
The accompanying photo showed Shen Yunxiao kneeling on one knee, his head bowed, kissing the top of her foot in profile.
Unlike the past, I didn't yell or cause a scene. I just liked the post.
I'm a succubus. Since birth, I've been bound to Shen Yunxiao.
So, my succubus heat periods could only be resolved through him.
But he never gave me a second glance, never cared about any of my needs.
Even during my most severe heats, he'd still sit there in his suit, watching me curl up on the floor, trembling.
He knew that a bound succubus could only be loyal to one person.
I used to think he was naturally disdainful of succubi. But when I saw the tenderness in his eyes as he helped my sister Shu Lan through her heat...
That's when I knew. He wasn't disdainful of succubi. He was disdainful of me.
Convinced I couldn't leave him, he brazenly went on every date with Shu Lan.
But he didn't know that surviving one hundred heat periods on my own was the deadline I'd set for myself.
He also didn't know that by binding myself to a top-tier succubus, I could sever my connection to him, a mere human.
So, this was the last chance I was giving Shen Yunxiao.

On the night Adrian Vale proposed, he said another woman’s name. When the room mistook Selene for the bride, he chose the Vale family’s reputation over the woman who had loved him for three years. Mara ElliOn the night Adrian Vale got down on one knee, he looked at me and said another woman’s name. In front of his family, his guests, and every camera in the room, he chose to protect his reputation instead of me. So I left New York before he could decide what I was worth. By the time he found me in London with a new ring, I had already learned not to wait.son left New York before he understood what he had lost. By the time he found her in London with a new ring, she had already learned how to live without waiting for him.

The werewolf world has one brutal rule: whoever can first produce a powerful Alpha heir gets to claim the throne and become the new Alpha King.

My sister Bella and I are daughters of the Red Moon Pack Alpha, born with the rare ability to bear Alpha-level offspring. This made countless Packs fight tooth and nail to claim us.

In my past life, I was fooled by Rex's handsome appearance—the Steel Fang heir. I married him and successfully bore him an Alpha bloodline pup, helping him ascend to the throne.

But fate played a deadly joke on me. Bella, consumed by jealousy after her own marriage failed, pushed me off a cliff during my postpartum weakness and took everything that was mine.

Now I've opened my eyes again, back at the mate selection ceremony. What shocked me was that Bella had also been reborn, and she'd already seduced Rex before I could.

But that's fine. My naive sister has no idea what kind of devil she's chosen.

My husband, Julian, tells me he's flying to Italy for a month, business trip.
I check the calendar and freeze. His birthday falls right in the middle of that month. Alone, in a country where he knows no one outside of work.
I tell Margaux, my mother-in-law. She doesn't hesitate.
"Then we go," she says. "We surprise him."
My brother Dante is the only family I have left. For years I've told the Whitfields he just runs some business in Italy. They don't know the rest, and they never will if I can help it.
The second we land, I call him, give him the hotel name.
"Got it," he says, distracted. "I've got things to handle first. I'll come see you after."
Margaux and I check out the hotel restaurant before Julian even knows we've landed. Dinner, and a look at how the family's investment is running.
Food's good. Service is fine. Then the bill comes.
I glance down at the bill.
Dinner for two: 180,000.
Market-price seafood surcharge: 45,000.
Imported wine corking fee: 20,000.
Private dining ambiance fee: 60,000.
A dozen more line items after that, none of them making any sense.
Numbers that don't make sense. Charges I don't recognize. Margaux and I trade a look.
"Get us the manager," I say. "Now."
A woman walks over, chin already tilted up.
"I am the manager," she says. "If you can't pay, what's the point of complaining?"
I almost laugh. What kind of place is my own family running here?
"I'll take this up with the owner myself," I say.
She smiles, slow and pleased. "My husband happens to own this restaurant."
My stomach drops.
This restaurant belongs to the Whitfields. Belongs to Julian.
Since when did my husband become someone else's?

Preston Ashford and I made a promise to get into UCLA together.

I held onto that promise through all of senior year, surviving on four hours of sleep a night. Then results day came, and I found out someone had logged into my application and changed it.

I only ever gave Preston my password.

I storm over to confront him and catch Vanessa Ashby, the daughter of an old family friend, the one everyone tiptoed around because of her depression, laughing. "Preston, what do you think Elise looked like when she found out?"

Preston lets out a lazy laugh. "She'll freak out, obviously. Girl's wound so tight, might as well get some use out of her."

Vanessa has depression, and I'm the one who's supposed to make her laugh.

I'm the one who ate dirt at track meets. I'm the one who got laughed at for singing off-key. I'm the one everyone pointed and laughed at. And every time she doubled over laughing, Preston told me I was a good girl.

I turned myself into a joke, just to get a little scrap of kindness thrown my way.

But not this time. I'm done playing the clown.

My husband, Alessandro Vidi, is the most powerful mob boss in Chicago.

He once swore to me that he would protect our son Leo and me with his life.

Until that soccer game. His enemies attacked the field. To shield Leo, I took a bullet through my abdomen. But Leo still got hit three times and fell in a pool of blood.

Alessandro arrived, took down the attackers on the spot, and rushed us to his private hospital.

In the hospital room, the searing pain jolted me awake briefly. I wanted to call out to him, but instead I heard his conversation with his men.

"Boss, I thought we were only taking one kidney. Why did Leo have to—"

"Elena's wound isn't fatal. Just the abdomen." Alessandro's voice was ice-cold. "I've been raising Leo for seven years just for this. Now that Luca has his kidney, keeping him around would only be a problem for Luca."

"After all... Luca is my real son."

That moment, I understood—the shooting at the soccer field was never an enemy's revenge. It was murder he orchestrated himself. He traded my son's life for his mistress's child's life.

But he will never know—

Luca isn't even his flesh and blood.

They say the dead go where they belong.

But I didn't.

I drift through the cold winds, watching my husband—the detective who once swore to protect me with his life—diligently investigating a dismemberment case.

He doesn't know that the broken body lying in the morgue is his wife.

He doesn't know that the gentle, caring "psychologist" who brings him lunch every day is the one who killed me.

He doesn't know that when I called him in my final moments, begging for help, he hung up on me. I am dead. Yet, that is not the cruelest part— the most harrowing aspect is having to witness the truth gradually emerge, watching as that man collapses completely upon uncovering it all.

I died in New York on a cold November night, a piece of guardrail through my chest.

Choking on blood, I dialed my ex-fiancé Damien's number.

In the background, jazz played at the Waldorf Astoria. People cheered for Aria—the girl my parents raised in my place.

"Thea, are you SERIOUS right now?" Damien's voice dripped with disgust. "Faking your own death to ruin Aria's engagement? Jesus, Thea. Even for you, that's low."

My mother Diana grabbed the phone. Her voice was ice. "If you don't show up tonight, don't ever come back to the Sinclair house. Better yet—don't bother."

Then she hung up.

They didn't know this time I was really dying.

My five-year-old daughter is being bullied at school, and the one behind it is the son of someone who claims to be the Luna. That means one thing: my Alpha mate has cheated on me. I am the daughter of the wealthiest Alpha, and after my mate bonded with me, he inherited my father’s Alpha title. Little did I know, I had been hiding my true identity as an Omega for years, only to end up in this tragic situation. Now, I’ve decided to stand up for my daughter and take revenge on that scumbag! It’s time to show these wolves who the real Luna is!

To raise money for my younger brother’s surgery, I forged my degrees, polished my résumé, and forced my way into high society. In everyone’s mouth, I’m that woman—
the scheming bitch, the liar, the “evil bride” clinging to an old rich man.
They all think I’m obsessed with Mr. Grant, the financial shark’s mountain of assets.
Only I know the truth—what I’m really clinging to is my brother’s life.
No one expected that the first man I fell for at first sight…would be his heir, Adrian.
And yet in a blink of eyes, I became his “stepmom in name only.”
On our wedding day, everyone laughed at how shameless I was:
“She marries the dad and still dares to seduce the son?”
“Vicious little con artist—who knows what cheap tricks she pulled to marry in?”
Adrian was no exception.
He called me a liar, a manipulator, dumped all his hatred on me—said I’d do anything for money, that I was a tumor climbing up off their wounds.

Brent Hale gave me one night to save the company’s worst-performing livestream—or lose my job with everyone else in Studio Three.
I wanted the severance package.
So I ignored the script, exposed every product flaw, and told viewers exactly what not to buy.
By the time my boss tried to cut the feed, the chat was threatening to riot—and half our inventory was already gone.

I’m the CEO of a tech company—and the creator of our bionic human project.

Three years ago, my wife was dying after a car crash. She begged me to “save” her with my technology. I said yes.

I poured over a hundred million into R&D and built her a bionic body that could last for decades. I covered every checkup, every calibration, every outrageous repair bill.

What I got back was her contempt, her affair, and her reckless abuse of the body I gave her.

I warned her again and again to protect it. She called it control—and called another man freedom.

She even slammed my head into a coffee table to shield him.

That was the moment I decided: no more repairs, no more payments.

She chose her path. She pays for it.

My wife brought her first love back to my cloud penthouse for an affair, and even attempted to steal the corporation's core code. Caught red-handed, she showed no remorse, instead scolding me condescendingly: "He is my guest! How dare you touch him?!"

Without even raising an eyelid, I snapped my fingers. Heavy combat robots instantly ripped apart the first love's cybernetic spine, and a beam of energy burned the man into a cripple. I then threw down a disownment agreement, cutting off her elite privileges with one click, and tossed the two of them like garbage into the lower-class slums drenched in acid rain.

"Trash belongs in the trash can." I swirled my wine glass, sneering.

After sleeping for a thousand years, I returned to the ancestral castle that was supposed to be mine.
Only to find my throne torn down and turned into an auction block for the black market, my territory carved up clean by traitors.
And my only pureblood descendant in this world was actually being auctioned off like livestock—covered in blood, chained up with a cheap dog collar around his neck.
The entire room of nobles and elites mistook me for the lowest kind of half-blood trash, mocking me as a rat too stupid to know when he was dead.
The usurper, eager to curry favor with the Abyss, shouted that he would drain me dry and offer my blood as a tribute to the three pureblood princes deep within the Abyss.
Then the void split open, and those three supreme princes—the untouchable monsters the world worshiped—truly descended.
Under the horrified gaze of more than a thousand nobles and elites, those three ancient monsters threw themselves at my feet, scrambling and crawling, wailing in terror without even daring to raise their heads:
"Your unworthy descendants... welcome the Ancestor's return!!!"

On our twentieth wedding anniversary, I caught my husband, Carter, cheating with our adopted daughter, Ava. My mother threw herself in front of me, and died under Carter's gun.
I had my anterior temporal lobe removed by Carter and lost my memory, then I was framed as the murderer who shot my mother and was wrongly imprisoned for four years.
I clung to his 'affection and loyalty' like it was salvation.
After I got out, I lived in hell-guilt for 'killing' my mother. I suffered severe depression and became addicted to self-harm, yet never realized it was all his design.
By the third year after my release, I overheard Carter and my therapist talking; I knew the truth:
he erased my memory and used drugs and hypnosis to trap me in pain.
It was only because he fell in love with our 16-year-old adopted daughter at the age of 40 that he would stop at nothing to cover up his crime.
Under hypnosis, I finally saw it clearly: the person who pulled the trigger that night was Ava.

I spent three years chasing the most popular guy on campus, only to be humiliated in front of the entire school.
My foster family treats me like a live-in maid. My biological father wants to drag me back into the gutter. And the loan sharks have made it clear that in three days, I'll be the one paying for my father's debt.
Everyone is waiting to see me fall apart.
What no one knows is that I already dreamed of the worst future waiting for me.

In my past life, I threw myself in front of the black panther alpha when his rut drove him into a frenzy—only to have him toss me into a pack of beasts and watch me get torn to pieces.
After being reborn, the first thing I did was rip off the royal crest pinned to my chest and swallow a suppressant, cutting off his control over me for good.
Everyone waited for me to come crawling back and beg for peace.
Instead, I turned and walked straight into the frozen Northlands, where the death rate was eighty percent.
There, through a severed arm, a ruined face, and the thin line between life and death, I awakened as the Platinum Lion King.
He dropped to his knees in the snow, crying and begging for forgiveness.
I only had one question for him: "What makes you think you're anything to me?"

Sold out by my best friend to a high-born vampire coven, I was drained, slashed, and thrown into a subterranean dungeon to rot. For a year, I lived like a forgotten corpse—eating filth, nursing broken bones, and watching my humanity wither away in the pitch-black silence.
They thought I died down there. They were wrong.
Deep within my shattered soul, something ancient and terrifying woke up. I am the last of an extinct bloodline, a mind-weaver capable of bending immortal minds using lethal, dark shadow chants.
Now, I’ve crawled out of the grave with a fresh face and a cold, beautiful mask. My target? King Alexander Vampirizh, the ruthless tyrant who built his empire on human blood.
He thinks I’m just a sweet, helpless human to be possessed. He looks at me with consuming desire, unaware that every tender touch, every lingering glance, and every whisper I feed him is a thread tightening around his mind.
Let the King adore me. Let him drop his guard. Because the sweetest fangs aren't the ones in his mouth, they’re the silent words on my lips that will burn his kingdom to ash.

They gave me to a Mafia family because their real daughter was too precious to sacrifice.

My husband was supposed to be a crippled, impotent psychopath nobody wanted.

But on my wedding night, I found out that the man in the wheelchair could walk. And he wasn't crazy.

He was dangerous.

And worse, he already knew me.

Years ago, I saved the life of a wounded stranger and never saw him again.

I never imagined that the stranger would become my husband, or that the most feared Mafia heir in New York would make me the one thing his enemies could use against him.

My family thought they had sent me to my death.

They didn't realize they had handed me to the Mafia King.

Three years ago, I took an undercover job: pose as a bottom-tier janitor and infiltrate a crime syndicate.

But I didn’t fit. My posture, my stride, the way I watched people—none of it looked like a janitor.

So command made the call: hypnotize me, seal my memories, erase who I was. In three months, someone would come wake me up.

They never did. My handler died, the line went dark, and I stayed buried.

I lost myself and spent three years scrubbing this place from the bottom—where anyone could kick me, spit at me, call me useless.

Until today. A stranger, drenched in blood, was dragged into the hall. He lunged close and whispered one sentence into my ear.

It was the trigger phrase.

The lock in my head snapped open. My name is Jack Reynolds—ex–Marine operative—sent here to bring down the Grey Wolf Alliance.

And everyone who spent three years stepping on my neck is about to learn what that means.

After ten years of being a "consumable," I performed my final maintenance on the very day Vivian handed my life's work over to someone else. I didn’t argue or resist; I just signed the paperwork with a smile. When the Thorne Tower began to collapse floor by floor due to my final permission error, she finally realized that all the brilliance she boasted of was nothing more than the residual warmth I had fed her. Now, she kneels in the ruins, begging me to turn back time. I only find her voice… annoying.

Last life, my girlfriend was trapped in a fire. I ran in, took the burns, and dragged her out alive.
When she woke up, she pointed at me first: “He’s the arsonist.”

Only later did I learn the truth—she’d been sleeping with her boss. They set the fire for an insurance payout and pinned everything on me.
Police investigations, the company cutting ties, the media turning me into a monster—I couldn’t prove a thing. I died in the rain, discarded like trash.

This time, I didn’t expose them. I didn’t call the cops.
On the night of the fire, I left early—then staged a robbery and walked myself into a police station, building the cleanest alibi possible.

They lit the match on schedule, trapped themselves, and waited for me to charge in.
As the flames grew and I never showed, she called—furious—demanding I come now.

I glanced at the officer taking my statement and said into the phone, calmly:
“Sorry. I can’t leave right now.”

My squadmates falsely accused me of being a vampire. They poured scalding water over me claiming it was "holy water," spiked my meals with garlic extract, and even splashed me with stinking goat blood. In the end, their madness drove them to plunge a sharpened cross straight into my heart...

When I was seven weeks pregnant, my husband, Jacob, seated his mistress and their secret son at the head table of our anniversary dinner.
In front of everyone, he said, "Ella hasn't given me a child in four years. Why should I keep waiting?" His mistress was already tired of waiting to take my place.
So I gave them what they wanted. I faked my death in the car crash his mistress had planned and walked away.
Then why was Jacob searching the crash site like a madman? When he pulled my waterlogged prenatal report from the sunken car, he dropped to his knees by the river and sobbed for me to come back.

My own sister is my husband -Alpha’s mistress.

She needed a liver transplant,

So he killed pup.

What's even more ironic,

On the day I found out I was pregnant,

I ran into my husband accompanying her for her prenatal examination.

My pup is gone.

How can the people responsible for his death deserve happiness?

Feeling the new life growing inside me,

I will make sure they pay for their actions.

What is fate? Waking up three days after you rejected your fated mates in front of the entire school, with the memories of your husband's betrayal still burning in your chest? Or finding out that the only way to save your empire is to compete for love on national television—against the man who murdered you?

Make your pick.

Odessa Montgomery died at thirty—cheated on, poisoned, and blown to pieces by the husband she trusted. Then she opened her eyes at twenty-one, three days after the mating gala where she publicly rejected the De Luca triplets. The rejection is still fresh. The whole school is still talking. And Damien Gracias, her charming hockey-star boyfriend, has no idea she remembers every lie he ever told her.

She dumps him. Publicly. Brutally. But freedom comes at a cost. Her grandfather's will is clear: find a mate or lose the Montgomery empire. With Damien out and the De Luca triplets—her humiliated fated mates—lurking in her past, her options are nothing.

Then comes Moonlit Bonds, a televised competition where unmated shifters compete for love and a life-changing prize. Win, and her inheritance is hers. Lose, and lose everything.

There's just one problem. Damien and his true mate, Sarah, have joined the show, hoping to legitimize their bond on camera. And the De Luca triplets are also contestants—three alphas she rejected, two who bullied her, and one who has never stopped watching.

Now Odessa is trapped in a villa with cameras in every corner, a public audience that votes on her fate, and enemies who want her dead.

She came to win.

She might just find revenge.

But falling for the enemy? That was never part of the plan.

I was only a week away from giving birth when my Alpha mate dragged me from our home—no, ripped me from safety—and forced me to care for her.
His precious Luna-to-be. The one who had just lost her baby.
“She’s in pain because of you,” he growled, his Alpha aura crashing down on me like a tidal wave. “You’ll atone for what you’ve done.”
Lucia, with her tear-soaked eyes and sugar-sweet lies, claimed I had poisoned her with silver. He didn’t even ask for the truth.
Instead, he had me stripped bare and thrown into the sacrificial chamber, where flames licked at my skin and the heat soared past 80 degrees Celsius.
“Purify your sins,” he whispered coldly, like a death sentence wrapped in frost.
And then—In that hellish blaze, I went into labor. Alone. I screamed. I begged. I clawed at the burning stone door until my nails bled, and my voice broke.
But no one came.

A torrential downpour of strong acid flooded the city, and mutated sea monsters slaughtered buildings. When Chloe, along with burly men from the rugby team, wielding fire axes, frantically smashed down the door, attempting to burn me alive and steal my bottled water, I had already welded the security door firmly into the load-bearing wall.
Faced with the pried-open door, I didn't waste any words and directly used a 20,000-volt electric spear to pierce the strong man's thigh! Then, I coldly pushed the blood-soaked floor outside.
The pungent smell of blood instantly attracted the skeletal behemoths from the water, turning the corridor into a horrific slaughterhouse. I listened coldly to their desperate screams in front of the monitor.
In this desolate wasteland, you think you can survive by stepping on me? Then feed the monsters with your flesh and blood !