5565 Book(s) Related to wolf university rejected by my possessive alpha mate

A man's luxurious watch slipped out of my wife's purse. Without batting an eye, she lied, "It's a gift for your dad." Looking at the youthful, trendy style and thinking of the remote-controlled toy that had mysteriously appeared in the nightstand, I felt nothing but utter disgust.
In the surveillance footage, the domineering homewrecker not only wore my clothes but also arrogantly taunted me.
And my own flesh and blood, the son I cherished more than my own eyes, had covered for them for a few hundred dollars of pocket money!
Since everything was rotten to the core, I wouldn't even want the son anymore.
Without a word, I accepted a tenured professor position overseas, decisively gave up custody, and promptly mailed the divorce papers and the adult toy to her company.
The mistress and the homewrecker's little celebration? Let them torment each other.
This time, I'm taking my life back.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, I received a bouquet of red roses from my husband, Gabriel.

The problem was, I was severely allergic to roses — something I'd told him countless times.

"Same order number, two deliveries," the delivery man said casually, glancing at his clipboard.

My blood ran cold.

The man who'd claimed he had to work late — who couldn't even spare me a simple "Happy anniversary" — was at that very moment holding another woman in his arms. Nine hundred and ninety-nine roses. A designer handbag. Diamond jewelry. And on his face, a tender smile I hadn't seen once in five years of marriage.

For him, I had given up everything. I'd gone from being the pampered darling of the Rivers family to a wife crammed into a tiny apartment, comparing prices across three different grocery stores just to stretch every dollar. I'd filed down every sharp edge I had. Swallowed every last ounce of my pride.

And yet here he was — while I was still carrying his child — lavishing the very best of everything on someone else.

Gabriel, you dare betray me?

Then that CEO seat? Consider it gone.

A once-formidable heiress, dulled and diminished by love, was about to reclaim everything she'd lost. The masks were coming off.

And the reckoning was just beginning.

The first thing I do with my second chance is sell off my perfect fiancé for ten million dollars.

The first time around, I became someone else for Julian Whitmore.

He likes nude-toned dresses. Hates when I wear anything with color. He won't let me have more than one glass of champagne in public. Won't let me laugh too loud. Won't let me initiate anything in bed.

His voice is always so calm, like he's correcting a disobedient pet.

I spend three years turning myself into what he wants: docile, proper, flawless. Until depression drags me under. Until that night I lay in the bathtub and watched the water turn red.

When I die, he's still downstairs in his study, editing my speech for tomorrow's charity gala.

When I open my eyes again, I'm sitting in the Winters' living room with that unsigned arrangement in front of me.

This time? Fuck perfect.

But when he lifts that veil at the wedding and realizes the bride isn't me, this man who's spent his whole life in control completely loses it.

On our one-year anniversary, my husband Julian gifted me an antique ring.
Putting it on cost me everything.
I miscarried, grew paralyzed, and rapidly withered into a husk. And Julian? He convinced everyone that the trauma had simply driven a grieving mother insane.
Eventually, even I believed him.
It wasn’t until the moment of my murder that the truth finally clicked.
The ring wasn't a blessing; it was a parasitic siphon.
Then, I opened my eyes—
I was back at the anniversary dinner.

On a rainy night, I lay in a pool of my own blood, barely alive.
My wife, Juliana, was kneeling beside a man named Sebastian. "Take my husband's blood! I will take full responsibility if anything happens!"
Drop by drop, my lifeblood was drained from me, flowing into the body of her first love.
After three days and nights of struggling in the ICU, I finally regained consciousness, only to hear her scornful words outside the door: "Sacrificing a mediocre researcher for the health of my Muse is a worthwhile trade."
So, the five years of tender affection, the specially prepared nutritional soups she brought me every night—it was all to squeeze the last drop of blood from me.
She thought I would remain in the dark like a loyal dog, letting her take whatever she wanted.
Too bad she didn't know that I had quietly poured out that "medicine" and called the Security Bureau.
It was time for the hunter and the prey to switch roles.

On my wedding anniversary, I died a brutal death, drained of every drop of blood by my husband’s socalled “sacred snow ferret”. That creature was Sylvia, his longdead true love striving for rebirth. For three long years, I was nothing more than a disposable blood vessel. Even my own son betrayed me for hollow, false affection.
Given a second chance at life, I cast aside all foolish mercy. I watched coldly as my hypocritical mage husband and traitorous son doted on the ferret, and documented every one of their heinous crimes.
I turned his longawaited reunion into a boneandflesh feast.
When the Templar tribunal finally arrived to pass judgment, I broke free from the cage of my old life and stepped out toward my own boundless freedom.

Three years ago, I devoted my family's entire fortune to rescue my husband from the mire of impending bankruptcy. I once believed this was a mutual journey of love, until that day revealed the chilling truth — I had merely been nurturing a self-consuming wolf.
The metallic scent of blood still hung in the air of the delivery room when he signed the document relinquishing life support, trading our newly born child for a flicker of hope for his beloved.
As I lay in a pool of blood, dialing his number, I could hear the heavy breaths of him and his mistress on the other end.
The explosion of the yacht cast flames upon the sea, and in that life-or-death moment, he unhesitatingly let go of my hand.
They all believed I had perished beneath the waves.
Very well.
Now, my wedding invitation lies within his reach.

I helped him claw his way up from nothing—from the family's bastard to king of the underworld.

I saved him when he got jumped in the streets. Took bullets for him when his father beat him half dead. We fought our way up from nothing, survived assassination attempts, built an empire that made people fear our name.

I thought we'd always stand together.

Until the day I nearly died giving birth, and all I found in the bassinet was a stack of cash.

I asked him where our baby was. He couldn't look me in the eye. His stepmother walked out holding my son. Smiled and said she deserved this, a child of her own, since she couldn't have one herself. He'd given my baby to another woman.

Turns out he'd been sleeping with her the whole time.

I threw the money in his face. I spent the next six years trying to get my son back.

Last week, when some small-time gang grabbed him, I went in alone with a gun. Bullets flew past my ears, kicked up concrete dust. I fought my way to the back and pulled him out. At the hospital, he pushed me away, crying, "Why'd you have to come?! We could've been a real family by now! Just leave! Leave me alone!"

I stared at his small face for a long time.

Finally, I said, "Call me mom one last time. Then I'll let you go."

A hundred years ago, old Duke Rowland saved me with a bowl of hot soup when I was dying. To repay him, I swore myself, as the Silver Wolf Goddess, to a hundred-year covenant protecting House Rowland.

I taught Garrett how to hold a sword. I turned Caleb into a prodigy at the Mages' Guild. I saved Preston's family from ruin.

But Lillian took a potion to fake being sick, and all it took was her claiming only my heart could save her to turn three men's knives on me.

In my last life, I begged them to listen, told them that cutting out my heart would tear down the foundation of House Rowland itself. They finally backed off.

Then Lillian, trying to keep the lie going, secretly upped her dose and poisoned herself to death in her own bed.

The three of them lost their minds and blamed me for her death.

"A beast doesn't get to call itself the guardian of House Rowland. Die."

They cut my heart out. I died on that altar.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day they took my heart.

This time, I didn't waste my breath. I handed it over myself and let them have what they wanted.

The goddess's heart fell. The covenant ended.

They just didn't know yet how badly House Rowland would fall apart without me.

I just got out of prison after three years, and my family wants me to go back in.
"It's only three days," they said. "You survived three years—what's three more days?"
What they don't know: I'm dying. The only thing keeping me alive is my mate bond. Three days away from Everett means death.
For three years in prison, someone sent me food every week. No note, no name. I thought it meant my family still loved me.
I was so grateful.
I didn't know it was my twin sister. I didn't know what was inside.

The new member posted a yacht contract to the club group chat on her first day in. The caption read: Thanks for the birthday present, Dad 🥂
Ten seconds later she deleted it. Breezy apology. Oops, wrong group.
I looked at the photo one more time before it disappeared. I didn't check the numbers. I looked at the name painted across the bow.
It was my mother's name.
The boat was mine. My father had told me about it a week ago.
The chat didn't care. Which family is she from? Ninety-six feet of custom teak. Sienna, you dark horse.
I asked, quietly, if she'd share the registration number. I wanted to hear what she'd say.
My own husband stood up from two desks over and tore into me in front of every member in the room. Told me I was jealous. Told me I was an embarrassment. Told me to know my place.
Later that week, he broke into my safe. Took the diamond my father had given me for my mother — and put it around her neck.
That night my father's encrypted voice memo came in from somewhere at sea. One minute long. The last line was this:
"Find your mother's necklace. I can't wear her myself. I need you to wear her for me."

From a young age, I understood that my asthma was a shackle for my entire family. My parents took turns caring for me, their hearts gripped by the fear of any sign of respiratory distress. In their fervent concern for my health, they even compelled my sister, Sophie, freshly accepted into university, to postpone her studies and return home to assist in my care.
At Sophie's eighteenth birthday celebration, I lingered at the edge of the crowd, my chest constricted, and my throat felt as if it were ensnared by invisible hands. I gently tugged at my mother's sleeve, my voice barely a whisper: "Mom, I... can't breathe. I want to go back to my room..."
In an instant, my mother whirled around, her eyes ablaze with fury, as though she had awaited this moment of eruption. She seized my inhaler and hurled it into the farthest corner of the room.
"If it's this painful, then go die!" she shrieked, her words cutting like a knife. "Stop using your illness to hold us hostage!"
The inhaler tumbled to the floor, rolling away like a forgotten piece of trash. I stared at it blankly, a sudden laugh escaping my lips.
And then, I truly died. Yet, in the wake of my passing, those who once found me a burden descended into madness.

On our third wedding anniversary, a catastrophic car accident plunged me into a state of life-threatening hemorrhage. Yet, before the medical staff, my husband roared: "Draw my wife's blood first; save Serena."

Serena—his first love.

It became apparent that he had never married me out of love; I was but a living blood bank, intended solely to sustain his cherished first love. It was only when I discovered I was pregnant that I realized he would not even spare the life within me.

That incarceration, cloaked in the guise of love, had nearly claimed my life. When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer the Clara who could be so easily sacrificed. This time, I shall ensure he pays for his blood debt, with no chance of redemption.

On my wedding day, my entire family received Iris’s desperate plea for help.
“Mom, Dad, Brother! I’ve been kidnapped, come save me, quick!”
Everyone panicked—including my fiancé, Theodore.
They interrupted the wedding ceremony to rush to Iris.
I begged them through tears not to go. I said it was a trick, something Iris had staged herself.
“The ceremony would have been over in ten more minutes. Can’t you just wait ten minutes?”
My parents called me a heartless, ungrateful wretch. My brother, Ron, pried my fingers from his tuxedo lapel.
“Chloe, stop being so selfish! Even if Iris isn’t your blood sister, how can you be so cruel?!”
“All you care about is your own wedding! Do you really want to see her die?!”
My fiancé looked at me with disappointment. “Let’s cancel the wedding for now.”
“I just realized… the one I care about more… is Iris.”
Watching their hurried figures disappear, I picked up a knife and locked myself in the bridal suite.

Did you slaughter your roommates?" the detective sneered. "No!" I screamed. The polygraph technician stared at the flawless readouts confirming I told the absolute truth. I was innocent. But if a human didn't tear those girls apart in our locked dorm... then what exactly is hunting me now?

On our third wedding anniversary, my husband Hill invited many friends over for a party at the house. Everyone was noisily playing games, and the challenge was to reveal a private secret about someone in the room.
When it was Elsa's turn, she pointed at Hill's lower body. "Hill has a crescent-shaped birthmark. It's in a very private spot."
After saying this, Elsa collapsed onto the sofa laughing. Hill pretended to be angry, jumped up, and pounced on Elsa, smacking her on the butt.
I was frozen in shock. Hill's birthmark really was extremely private—you couldn't even see it without looking closely. I only discovered it myself after being married to him for a year.
Sensing my emotional shift, everyone stopped their roughhousing.
Elsa shrugged nonchalantly. "Zoe, don't overthink it. Before you got married, someone slipped Hill something once. I had no choice but to help him out. But don't worry, I promise he saved his first time for you."
Then she tapped her lips. "I used this place back then. Wore me out, honestly."
I felt my stomach churn violently and nearly threw up. Without thinking, I hurled my wine glass directly at Elsa.
"Sorry. Slipped. Just trying to help you rinse your mouth."

My ex-husband found me selling hair clips at a flea market. Rosie was asleep in her stroller.
"Come home. She's too young for this."
I said yes.
After that, I stopped checking his phone.
Rosie stopped crying when the other girl took her toys.
He spent the night at Simone's—we didn't call.
We ran into them at the mall—we walked the other way.
We finally became what he always wanted. Easy. Quiet. No drama.
So why is he the one who can't sleep now?
"Why don't you get mad anymore?"
"Rosie, why won't you ask me to stay?"

On Halloween night, a sharp stench of chlorine and cheap booze woke me up.
I opened my eyes to a man grinning at the bedroom door.
It was my husband, David, soaking wet and showing off the liquor he’d vanished hours ago to buy.
I cursed him out, called him a liar, and demanded a divorce. He just kept that idiotic smile.
Then my phone rang. It was his best friend, Mark.
"Claire, David drowned drunk in the pool!"

Five years ago, my family burned to death in an "accident."

My loving husband Clifford signed the papers himself—shipped me off to a mental institution without a second thought.

Inside, Becky carved up my face with shattered glass. The same orphan I'd put through school. Then she rebuilt herself to match my features and stole my life—my husband, my son, everything.

Now she marched into the clinic where I scrub floors, dragging my biological child behind her, demanding I apologize to him like some servant.

She has no idea what kind of monster she created.

Five years ago, I stepped in front of a crossbow bolt for Lucian Vael, and he turned me into a vampire before I had the chance to say no.
He told me I was the first person he'd loved in six hundred years. He bought a castle and named it after me. He reserved a spot for me in his family's crypt so we'd lie there together when the time came—right beside his parents, in the inner ring where only blood and the most beloved go.
While I spent four years bleeding myself dry over ancient rites, trying to carry his child, he was across the city watching another woman do it on her first try. Using my research to get there.
He named one of the twins Soren. That was the name I'd chosen.
The night I found out, I was seven weeks pregnant.
I didn't tell him.
I called Mira and said: I need him to think I'm dead.

Everyone in town said I dumped my blind boyfriend because I couldn't stand being poor.
Five years later, I'd become a blind drifter myself, relying on handouts just to eat.
And he'd become one of Silicon Valley's hottest rising tech moguls.
He recognized me, but pretended he didn't.
He wanted me on my knees. Wanted me begging. Wanted me to pay for "abandoning" him.
Until he found out the person who gave up everything for him back then was no one else...
But me.

I'm a forensic audio specialist. I make a living digging up the truths people deliberately erase from static and noise.
My 19-year-old brother was accused of pushing a billionaire's bride to her death at her wedding.
The police presented their "smoking gun" recording. I heard exactly twelve seconds missing from it.
Those twelve seconds hold the truth about how the bride really died—and the billionaire family's dark secret that will get both me and my brother killed.
They smashed my equipment, threatened my life, bribed the cops, and tried to bury the truth forever.
But what they don't know is—
Some voices refuse to stay silent. Even when they're cut out.

They called her the Omega.
Weak. Unworthy. A stain on the royal bloodline.

But they were wrong.

When Seraphine Vale’s family was branded as traitors by the man she had loved the most, she witnessed her father’s execution by beheading, her mother burned alive, and her siblings slaughtered under a fabricated decree. She was beaten, broken, dragged to the altar of Drakar: the mountain where maidens were offered to the ruthless dragon king; she was abandoned to die… or so they believed.

But Azrath, the dragon king who was feared by all, didn’t eat her. Instead, he pressed his mark into her skin, an old fire sigil that tied their destinies together. The same beast who had laid waste to kingdoms and haunted the living and the dead had, inexplicably, been captivated by her beauty. There was something in her anger, her stubborn strength and the wildness in her blood that drew him in and she couldn't explain why.

But Seraphine was not an ordinary omega like they perceived. She was the Lycan Queen, the last of her kind that remained even though she herself didn't know. Werewolves of her kind were feared, hunted, and underestimated until her power was unlocked by extreme rage.

Now she rises from the ashes, half-lycan queen, half-marked by dragon fire, with fire in her veins and vengeance in her heart. All the kingdoms that betrayed her, the man she once loved who slaughtered her family, and people who underestimated her will tremble before her wrath.

The moon rises red.
The dragon watches.
The Lycan Queen walks from ashes, fury, and fire. Ready to claim what was stolen, punish those who wronged her, and rewrite the fate of all kingdoms.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked finally.

“What I should have done a long time ago,” I replied, not turning around. “Leaving you.” My hand closed around the door handle.

“Not with my child.”


Married off to him to settle a debt that was never mine, I was nothing more than a contract… a means to an end.

An heir.

That was all Adrian Blackwood ever wanted from me.

Not my love. Not my heart. Not me. But still… I gave it to him anyway.

Year after year, I loved a man who never once looked at me the way I looked at him. And when my time was up, when the contract ended and no child tied me to him, I walked away.

Until fate played its cruel joke.

Because just when I finally left him behind, I found out I was carrying his child.

Now the man who never wanted me… refuses to let me go.

DEATH BY REQUEST is Book #11 in the #1 Bestselling Caribbean Murder series, which begins with DEATH BY HONEYMOON (Book #1). It is also a standalone novel.In Death by Request (Book #11 of the Caribbean Murder Series), Cindy and Mattheus are given a shocking case they have never faced before: a clear-cut case of euthanasia might turn out to be something more ominous. Tara and Owen Danden, celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary in Jamaica, are on the water, in a boat he rented, when the weather shifts and Tara falls overboard. As Owen tries desperately to save his wife, the boat spins and hits her head—sending her into a coma. Pulled out of the water, barely alive, Tara is airlifted to an elegant hospital on the island, and remains in a coma for two months. When she finally dies, however, there becomes a question of whether she truly died of natural causes. Based on scanty evidence, Owen is taken into custody and quickly hires Cindy and Mattheus to clear his name and find out who wanted Tara dead. Cindy and Mattheus’s journey takes us through an intriguing exploration of comas, euthanasia and what happens to those in altered states. As the investigation proceeds we watch Cindy and Mattheus’s relationship ripen, and take a new turn. We also meet Tara’s crazy family, learn the secret they’ve been hiding, and see what bearing it might have on the case. As a new suspect finally comes into focus, all is not what it seems to be…

Death by Seduction (Book #13 in the Caribbean Murder series)

DEATH BY MARRIAGE is Book #3 in the Bestselling CARIBBEAN MURDER series, following DEATH BY HONEYMOON (#1) and DEATH BY DIVORCE (#2). A well-known criminal lawyer is found dead in a back alley in St. Thomas, and Cindy and Mattheus are called in to investigate by the grieving widow. The local police have pinned her for the murder, and Cindy and Mattheus are her last hope in vindication. As Cindy and Mattheus dig deeper into the victim’s past, they learn that all was not as rosy as it seemed. They discover mistresses, gambling debts, vendettas, and a number of people who had motivation to want him dead. Most shocking of all, as they dig even deeper, they discover a whole secret life that he lead, one so lurid that the people who knew him best can hardly even conceive it. As a hurricane closes in and the police are insistent, despite all evidence, to arrest the widow, Cindy and Mattheus find themselves in a race against time to find the killer. When another body turns up, all involved realize the stakes may be even higher than they seem. And as Cindy and Mattheus develop feelings for each other, each grieving from the death of their own spouse, Cindy comes to realize there is even more at stake than she thinks. Books #4--#16 in the series are now also available.

DEATH BY ENGAGEMENT is Book #12 in the #1 Bestselling Caribbean Murder series, which begins with DEATH BY HONEYMOON (Book #1)—a free download! It is also a standalone novel.In Death by Engagement (Book #12 of the Caribbean Murder Series), Cindy and Mattheus joyously head to Aruba to search for a wedding venue for their destination wedding. Thrilled, they enter the magical, romantic world of wedding planning and along the way, meet another recently engaged couple, also looking for a place to be wed. But the beauty of Cindy and Mattheus’s time together is suddenly interrupted, when they learn that the young woman they had just met has plunged to her death at a nearby cliff.Although she left a suicide note, the girl’s devastated father refuses to believe she took her own life. He begs Cindy and Mattheus to investigate and see if foul play was at work. Although Mattheus refuses, Cindy is compelled to give it a chance, a decision which causes increasing tension in Cindy and Mattheus’s relationship, and which brings out aspects of each of them never seen before.As Cindy explores the inner workings of the young woman’s life and family, many shocking surprises also take place in her relationship with Mattheus. Not only does Cindy have to remain strong and persistent in uncovering the cause of the death, she must go through many personal changes to deal with what’s happening in her own life.A surprise end on all fronts turns all expectations upside down.

DEATH BY BETRAYAL is Book #10 in the #1 Bestselling Caribbean Murder series, which begins with DEATH BY HONEYMOON (Book #1)--a FREE download on Amazon! Cindy and Mattheus part ways, and while he stays in the Caribbean to protect his daughter and her mother, she returns home. Cindy’s sister, Ann, meets her at the airport to welcome her back to this new chapter of her life. Cindy starts to settle back in, to meet old friends and make plans to take on a new job—when a shocking call suddenly comes. It is a call Cindy never could have expected in her wildest dreams, a call that rips her world apart. Someone close to her—too close—has been found murdered in Bermuda. Cindy has no choice but to get on the next plane to Bermuda and hunt for the killer. Before long, Cindy finds herself enmeshed in an underworld of big business and crime. Beside herself, hitting dead ends, Cindy is forced to call Mattheus to help. Once again, their stormy relationship deepens and takes a new turn, as they plunge into solving this crime together. But it all may be too late….

When an old friend’s husband goes missing, she calls Cindy for help. Fresh from her own tragedy, Cindy returns to the Caribbean, this time to the gorgeous, lush island of Grenada, to find him.Cindy, still grieving her own husband’s death, stays at her friend’s incredible villa on the ocean, as she does her best to help track down her friend’s husband, Ames. As Cindy investigates, she meets the different characters on the island, some local, some fantastically rich, all of whom seem to be involved with each other, either romantically or in shady business dealings. As Cindy uncovers secret affairs, odd money dealings and drugs, she realizes there is a complex web on the island, hidden from public view. And as she digs deeper into Ames’ life, she is shocked to discover how many secrets he had been hiding from his wife—and that she never really knew the man she loved. The police at first refuse to take her seriously, but they soon gain respect for her tough intelligence, courage and determination. Cindy’s relationship with one cop in particular, Mattheus, develops in unexpected ways, as they give each other solace from their losses.But Cindy digs too deep. Soon, she finds her own life in peril, as she heads into the dark underside of the island. Startling developments in the investigation lead to a shocking ending, as a body is discovered, and Cindy alone must find out if they’ve convicted the wrong person…DEATH BY DIVORCE is Book #2 in the Caribbean Murder series, following DEATH BY HONEYMOON (Book #1).Book #3 in the series--DEATH BY MARRIAGE--and Book #4 in the series--DEATH BY DESIRE--are now also available.

After Grace Foster married into the Hayes family, everyone eagerly awaited the day she would give birth to an heir for the ailing young master. Grace thought marrying Alexander Hayes meant she was doomed to a lonely life, especially since her husband was in a coma. But to her surprise, he suddenly woke up. Overnight, with nothing more than a divorce agreement, she was cast aside by the wealthy family.
Seven years later, Grace returns with two sons by her side—and a line of men eager to become their stepdad. The thing Alexander regrets most is forcing Grace to sign those divorce papers. Now, the once-proud man will do anything to win her back—showering her with love, even risking everything for her.
But winning her heart again isn’t so easy, especially when his two mischievous sons seem determined to stand in his way. Alexander never expected that the biggest obstacle on his journey to win back his wife would be these two little troublemakers!

At her engagement party, her fiancé had betrayed her.She announced she wanted to take revenge on her fiancé.


A man’s icy lips covered hers as he devoured her, giving her temporary respite from the heat. She reached out and flung her arms around his neck, sucking his lips greedily.
Loud moans and pants soon resounded around the room. Their shadows on the wall opposite overlapped with a burning passion.
As the light was dim, Charlotte couldn’t see the man’s face clearly. The only thing that occurred to her was how beastly he was in bed. He savagely took her until dawn.

The sound of the gurneys almost deafen my ears, and the light from these doctors' torches is blinding me but I keep running towards the scene. It is 12 o' clock. In the midnight, I know even though I don't look at the clock over my head. With sweaty palms and terrific faces, five gurneys are wheeled towards the emergency rooms by the late night doctors. Even though their mouths are shut tight, I can hear millions of inaudible sounds coming out of them. Each of the gurneys are being wheeled by two personnels, and each time they pass me by, i peer into them to see the victims' faces clearly because I can not see them from where I am.

The first face I see is badly disfigured. It's got a big mark from the forehead down to her upper eyelid, her lips are charred and her jaw is almost totally detached from the rest of her face. Hot drops of blood trickle down her head to her chest and her dress is soiled. She looks like she is no longer breathing and just as the ambulance pass by me, I see something in her hands-A red neck piece. She is clutching it tightly like it is her whole life. My red neck piece. Yes, this victim is my only sister, Jamie but I do not cry. I mean, I always want to cry but I can't. So my face is firm and peaceful, but I am screaming inside me. My legs are hitting the air and I'm ripping my hair inside of me, but outside? I am standing tall. Somehow, with all the swiftness as they pass by me, her hands shake and she loses hold of the red neck piece. As thick and shiny as my hair, our hair(hers blonde and mine black). It falls from her hands and drops at my feet just as soon as the second ambulance approaches me. I bend to pick up my red neckpiece-the one thing that binds my sister and I together but whoosh...it is air. I can see it on the cold tiled floor but when I try to pick it up, it is not there.

Dallas wishes she could travel back in time. She would prevent her six year old self from wandering into the forest and keep her from finding Lucy.
Unfortunately, she did wander off and she did find Lucy. From that very first day, Lucy takes or gets what belongs to Dallas. Her favorite doll, the last gift from her Mother. Her dress for the Scarlet Ball, she bought with money she had earned herself. Her Mother's necklace, a family heirloom.
Dallas has put up with all of it, because everyone keeps reminding her of the fact that Lucy has no one and nothing.
Dallas swears revenge on the day she finds her Mate in bed with Lucy.
Shadow Valley Pack will regret pushing Dallas aside for Lucy.

Desiree the human girl clocks eighteen and finds out that she is extra-ordinary--an Elven princess. A secret her parents had been hiding from her.
She endures being bullied in school because of her smallish and calm nature. She is yet to discover herself and embrace her true powers, when she stumbles upon her new mates, Triplet Alphas who are half human half angel, ghost and incubus.
They chase after her and make her the envy of the whole school.
She tries to avoid them but finally accepts them in the end and they help her to harness her power in the fullest means.....

"You're ours now, Amaya. No running this time."
After escaping a breeding facility that used her body to create hybrid soldiers, Amaya forges a new identity and hides in a quiet werewolf-human town, posing as a college student.
She just wants peace, normalcy — control. But on her first week, she meets thre students — heirs of the most powerful packs in the nation — and the unthinkable happens.
They all whisper the same word: "Mate."
Her wolf awakens. Her heat ignites. And the forbidden bond between them spirals into chaos.
As Amaya hidden powers grow, so does the danger. The Werewolf Council calls her existence an abomination and demands her death. Her mates refuse to let her go — even if it means starting a war.

They don't want to save her.
They want to own her. Break her. Taste her.

In a world ruled by monsters, she is the only thing they crave and the only thing that can ruin them.

** EXCERPT **

"How would you like for all three of us to pleasure you at the same time? Eating your pvssy, sucking your boobs and fvcking you… all at the same fvcking time?"

The dream began the same as always.

Three masculine men stood in front of her, twice as large as the men she had ever set eyes on. They were naked, their veined cocks erect, bigger than any normal human size.

Sephyra laid flat naked on the bed, her legs spread apart, her left hand roughly caressing her bre**ts while her three middle fingers continuously dug in and out of her wet core with an abnormal pace.

"Please," she cried out as painful pleasure coarsed through her. "Fv-fvck me. Please, fvck me!"

—

—

—

She was born at the bottom of a broken world… where humans starve, and monsters rule.

With white-silver hair and white eyes that never quite belonged, she has always been treated like a curse: beaten, silenced, unwanted.

But everything changes the day her name is called.

Chosen for the Dominion, a brutal system where the most powerful fight for the throne, and the weak are crushed beneath it.

There, she becomes their obsession.

A ruthless werewolf who looks at her like he hates her… yet already owns her.

A cold, bloodthirsty vampire who aches to taste every inch of her.

A nonchalant, unreadable mage who treats her like she’s a mystery he intends to unravel.

I spent ten years turning a thug into a top boxer, but he and my wife kicked me out of the game, mocking me for "not understanding business and being outdated."

I didn't argue, and turned around to pick up a homeless man who had fought in underground boxing matches on the roadside.

A year later, the homeless man's apprentice knocked out the defending champion with one punch and won the gold belt; while that ingrate who betrayed me was beaten into a cripple in the underground boxing ring.

The geniuses you all think they are are nothing more than half-finished products under my tutelage!

To save my terminally ill wife and daughter, I drained half my wolf blood and tore out my own right fang.
Stripped of my source power, I became a worthless wolf despised by the entire clan.
My wife cast me out of the den, pinching her nose at the stench of rot on me; my daughter threw stones at me, cursing me with hatred as a blind, useless failure.
Together, they set their eyes on another young, strong Alpha. They let him trample my dignity in public, and finally had me brutally slaughtered on the frozen wasteland.
But they never knew, the reason that man could make their souls submit and fall for him was that his veins ran entirely with my heart's blood.
Only when I was reduced to a boneless husk of a wolf did my wife go mad, clawing her own gland raw, weeping and begging me to leave her one last mark.

Seven years ago, betrayed by my closest friend and my fiancée, I was thrown into the lightless Black Sea Death Prison and tortured mercilessly.

Seven years later, I returned through a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, only to find my crippled little sister being trampled in the mud by my former "brother," forcing her to sign a humiliating organ extraction contract.

"A worthless ghost who just crawled out of death row—what makes you think you can fight a billionaire tycoon like me?"

At a grand banquet at the Peninsula Hotel, the treacherous couple threw a bloody dog bone at my feet. They mobilized hundreds of heavily armed SWAT officers to surround me, demanding I kneel, kowtow, and call them master.

They thought their wealth and power made them untouchable on the West Coast, assuming I was still the same spineless weakling from years ago.

That was until an EMP tore through the night sky. Three military stealth fighter jets hovered outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, and hundreds of laser sights from the nation's most classified special forces locked dead center on the foreheads of every elite in the room.

Under the horrified gazes of the city's high society, a four-star general crashed through the window and gave me the highest military salute:

"Tier Zero Task Force assembled! Supreme Commander, please give the order to purge!"

At that moment, the high-and-mighty tycoons finally remembered the terror of being dominated by the abyss.

In the wasteland era, the soil is dead. Whoever can grow food is king.
In my last life, my brother gave me the spore we had nearly died to get, and the two of us awakened plant-growing powers together.
But every grain he grew was full and perfect, and the leader placed him on a pedestal; everything I grew was poisonous, and I was mercilessly cast out as worthless.
It wasn't until I died that I learned the truth: his power was never plant-growing, but transfer.
As long as he had eaten the spore, he could transfer away all the crops I grew.
When I got a second chance, I returned to the very day my so-called brother tried to shove the spore into my mouth.
This time, I slammed into him, knocked the spore to the ground, and crushed it under my foot.

Soft hot lips find the shell of my ear and he whispers, "You think I don't want you?" He pushes his hips forward, grinding into the back of my ass and I groan. "Really?" He chuckles.

"Let me go," I whimper, my body trembling with need. "I don't want you touching me."

I fall forward onto the bed then turn around to stare at him. The dark tattoos of Domonic's chiseled shoulders, quiver and and expand with the heave of his chest. His deep dimpled smile is full of arrogance as he reaches behind himself to lock the door.

Biting his lip, he stalks toward me, his hand going to the seam of his pants and the thickening bulge there.

"Are you sure you don't want me to touch you?" He whispers, untying the knot and slipping a hand inside. "Because I swear to God, that is all I have been wanting to do. Every single day from the moment you stepped in our bar and I smelled your perfect flavor from across the room."


New to the world of shifters, Draven is human on the run. A beautiful girl who no one could protect. Domonic is the cold Alpha of the Red Wolf Pack. A brotherhood of twelve wolves that live by twelve rules. Rules which they vowed could NEVER be broken.

Especially - Rule Number One - No Mates

When Draven meets Domonic, he knows that she is his mate, but Draven has no idea what a mate is, only that she has fallen in love with a shifter. An Alpha that will break her heart to make her leave. Promising herself, she will never forgive him, she disappears.

But she doesn’t know about the child she’s carrying or that the moment she left, Domonic decided rules were made to be broken - and now will he ever find her again? Will she forgive him?

[Where is Bryce?] I signed.

Serena's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Looking for your husband?" She tilted the phone away from her face, panning across the rumpled sheets until the camera revealed Bryce.
 
He was naked, sprawled across the king-sized bed, fast asleep. One arm stretched beneath Serena's neck, the other hand rested possessively on her bare breast.

"He's exhausted," Serena whispered, the camera returning to her smirking face. "We've been at it for hours. Did you know he calls my name when he comes? Has he ever done that with you?"

Evelyn lost her voice due to an accident in her childhood, which made her the mute wife when married to Bryce Finch. After three years of marriage, her husband ignored her, her mother-in-law despised her, and her husband's lover humiliated her. On her birthday, Evelyn recorded the evidence of her husband's infidelity and decided to leave this marriage. Just then, she discovered that she was pregnant. What’s more, she found that there were still many secrets about herself that remained unsolved... Thus, she began her counterattack.

Declan Voss has one semester to prove he belongs at Hartwell Arts Academy before the program drops him. Wren Calloway is the most followed student creator in the school's history and the last person who would ever give him the time of day. When a photo of them leaving the same party at the same time goes viral overnight, their school's online community explodes. Their drama teacher sees gold. So does the school's media club. Suddenly, Declan and Wren are the campus couple everyone is watching, performing staged livestreams, paired school segments, and very fake, almost-kisses for an audience of thousands. The problem is that Wren's mom just married Declan's dad. They are living in the same house. And performing a love story for the camera is a lot harder when the boy you are supposed to be faking it with is sleeping two doors down the hall and making you feel things the script never planned for.

My parents and twin sister faked their own deaths so she could steal my college acceptance.

I believed it. Sobbed until I couldn't breathe when the cops showed me photos of the burnt yacht. Thought my words—"I hope you all die"—had somehow made it happen.

Two weeks later, I found my sister's backup Instagram: "Finally ditched the boring sister! Bahamas is paradise 🏖"

Something inside me snapped.

Wanna play dead? Stay dead.

I took their death certificates. Canceled their social security numbers. Drained every joint account—every last cent. Sold the house to John, the kind of guy even cops don't mess with.

One month later, they came home tanned and loaded with designer bags, expecting to find me broken on the streets.

What greeted them instead were cold gun barrels pointed at their heads.

I was marrying Boone Ashcroft on a Saturday morning. Before I could step out of the truck, his mother walked up with a rope and pointed at the cattle chute behind the barn.
Her terms: hands and knees through six inches of mud and manure. A metal headgate clamped around my neck at the end. That was the price of walking through her front door.
I said no.
Then forty Ashcrofts surrounded the truck. My phone had zero signal. My family was blocked behind a hay baler a quarter mile back. And the man I'd spent three years with looked me in the eye and said: "You're going through that chute today. Crawling or walking — pick one."
They cornered my best friend. Threw hog blood on the windshield. Thought nobody was coming for me.
They didn't know about the CB radio under the console — or the ten cousins listening on the other end.

“I will call you, and you will come, everytime. If I want you on your knees, you get on your knees. If I want you on the bed, you get on the fucking bed. You belong to me. You are my pet. Mine. You said you would do anything to live? This is what it will cost. I am a very dangerous man with dangerous enemies, and friends. You do what I want and I let you be. You tell me no, and I shatter your jaw. Do you fucking understand me?” He snarls, waving his gun in the air.

I don’t understand but I nod still. “Okay.”

“You have a very skilful mouth. If I catch you fucking around, I’ll make you beg for death. You belong to Nathaniel Bianchi. Don’t ever forget that.” He seethes, and I nod.

“Yes, I belong to you.”

I don’t want to belong to him, but I want to live, and if this is the price to pay, then I will.


Asher witnessed what he shouldn’t have. A murder that shattered his world. Nathaniel Bianchi is a Don on a mission. For over a decade, he has hunted the people responsible for his parents’ deaths, and now that search has led him to Asher Donovan, an innocent chef he is determined to claim and to taint. To survive, Asher agrees to do whatever Nathaniel demands. He doesn’t expect to become Nathaniel’s possession, his pet, but there is no turning back. Boundaries blur, and what begins as control and desire quickly spirals into something deeper, something more dangerous than either of them anticipated.

Both men carry demons, Nathaniel’s are dark and lethal, Asher’s are buried and raw, but they are willing to fight for a chance at each other.

Ezra lives a quiet life, hiding in plain sight among humans, but his past as a blood bank for a terrifying vampire family, the Voss quadruplets, is a shadow he can't outrun. Raised in a hidden world where humans are mere sustenance, Ezra was never just food; he was a survivor who dared the impossible: escape.

Now, years later, the chilling presence of his former captors looms, threatening to drag him back to a life he fought tooth and nail to leave behind. He might be an Omega, but he refuses to be a victim again, even if it means facing the most feared vampires in existence.

Can Ezra truly break free from the monstrous mates who claim him, or is his destiny forever entwined with the very beings who once fed on his lifeblood?

The Percy Family Heir's Scandal Leaks Again!

Cecilia Davis sat curled up in the master bedroom, scrolling through photos of Edward Percy and Jessica Brown.

The photos were taken secretly, but from a sharp angle.

Through a car window — the two of them, going at it hard.

Cecilia let out a cold laugh, tossed the photos into the trash, and felt a wave of deep exhaustion wash over her eyes.

"Do I really have to cut it?"

"Ma'am, this is Mr. Percy's request. Only if you cut your hair as short as Ms. Brown's can we clear up last night's rumors. Of course, you don't have to go — that is, if you never want to see your brother again."

Edward's assistant Leo spoke with a dismissive air, not a trace of respect in his eyes.

As if she, the so-called Mrs. Percy, was nothing more than a joke that nobody needed.

And honestly, that's exactly what she was.

The System told me to do good deeds during the apocalypse.

It also told me to change the world through love.

I've always been the cooperative type. So I raised my blade, brought it down, and carved through the scum of this world—one slash at a time.

The System lost its mind, shrieking inside my head at a deafening pitch:

"AHHH! Host! Why are you killing people?! This counts as evil! Points will be deducted!"

I flicked the blood off my blade and looked up at the ground littered with zombies I'd decapitated.

Then at the man who had just shoved a living person into a horde of zombies as feed—the same man I'd put my blade straight through the throat of.

My fingertip traced the character carved into the hilt: Love.

"What's the problem?"

I shot back. "I'm using my love to send them exactly where they belong. A physical deliverance counts as a good deed."