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Category: Werewolf Romance Books

  • Alpha’s Rue: His Shunned Luna novel by Tester

    Alpha's Rue: His Shunned Luna novel by Tester

    Blurb

    He took away my choice of being marked. “I hate you.” I spit. “You think I want this?” He snickers. “Being mated to you is my worst nightmare come alive, but if you dare run from me? Make sure you can hide well because I will hunt you down, Mate.” ♡ I came back for one day. One stupid day to appease my father but now I’m trapped for life by a bond I never asked for. Alpha Kingston has a girlfriend, she’s the Luna he and his pack desire not me. I was once his Bestfriend, the girl he would burn the world for but now I’m the one he’d burn to save her. Everyone says I’m the villain, but every villain has a story right? One they never tried to hear. I don’t belong here, not anymore. Mooncrest has done nothing but break me, I want to leave but I’m the Alpha’s mate, and he promises to catch me if I run. Staying in Mooncrest brings back feelings I didn’t know I had. Can King and I be as we were before or did I lose him forever without an explanation?

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    Alpha’s Rue: His Shunned Luna Chapter 1

    AELIANA

    Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.

    I’ve learned to run from mine, the ones that unleashed demons to torment me for the rest of my life, but as I stare at the warning in my hand, I reckon I didn’t run far enough. Not too fast either.

    [To Aeliana Hartley, With the blessing of their families, Seraphine Paul Hartley & Diego Rollins request the honour of your presence to bear witness to the start of their union. Save the date: February 28th. Venue: Valour Hall] it reads, my name penned in cursive.

    I don’t understand why I have to go, I’m pretty sure the bride-my stepsister doesn’t want me there. Sera and I don’t get along, I’d hate to ruin her special day with my presence and besides, going back would mean soaking up waters that once drowned me.

    That was why I tried to decline, made up every possible excuse to not attend but my father wouldn’t hear it. He wouldn’t want to appear as though he didn’t have a perfect family, but he does. Without me that is. I’m the one who ruins things, the one who should have died in the delivery room, but mom died instead.

    My heart races when the pack gates open, and I pull up to the checkpoint.

    “Identification please,” the pack patrol officer says. “And state your purpose.”

    “Aeliana Hartley, here for my sister’s wedding. I will be residing in Oaks, house number twenty-six, Hartley Street.” I say, handing him my passport.

    The officer looks at me, then my ID. “Are you sure this is you?” He raises an eyebrow.

    No, surely this is some kind of joke. The picture is a few years old, but I look the same, and I just had a sixteen- hour flight, not to mention the nine-hour flight before that one.

    Thankfully, he doesn’t press further. “And do you plan on staying long?”

    “Sir, I was born here. I have every legal right and document to stay as long as I prefer, but I will only be here until tomorrow.”

    He nods, giving me back my ID card. “New pack laws state absence for more than five years warrants renewal of membership by the legal office.”

    “Good thing I’m just visiting,” I smirk.

    “Have a good one,” he smiles, slapping the top of the car.

    I give him one last smile before I drive away in my rental car. A service I’m grateful for because I don’t want to bother anyone tomorrow when it’s time to leave. I have several missed calls from dad, along with a few messages saying I’m late from my other siblings. In my opinion, I’m on time but in reality, I missed the church ceremony, and I’m going to get scolded for that but I’m here.

    When I step out of the car, I’m met with many faces, some familiar, others not at all. The pack smells familiar, it smells like memories, both good and bad. So many memories that the air is almost suffocating, I want to get back into the car and get on the next flight out of here, but I can’t.

    I swallow down the lump creeping in my throat and remind myself it’s just one day. One ceremony, a few fake smiles for the camera, and then I can leave again. People seem to be having a ball, a few others are drunk outside the hall, others are getting drunk, others are only just now arriving….like me.

    My father stands near the entrance, his posture rigid, a cigar between his fingers while he speaks to a man I don’t recognise. I’m thinking of a way to enter without him seeing me, but his eyes find me first, fast and cold. He’s mad.

    I take a deep breath and walk towards him. “You’re late,” he says.

    “Flight issues,” I calmly retort. If anything I wished for an emergency landing so I couldn’t come.

    Father nods, his jaw ticking. “Follow me,” he says. Not bothering to introduce me to his colleague like he always does with my siblings.

    He doesn’t say a single word, he walks in front of him, and I follow, my heart syncing up with the fast pace of my heels clicking on the floor. People are staring at me, whispering, laughing, I’m getting every dirty look in the book and I know why. But it’s one of those things I’ve decided to live with, the kind that doesn’t matter where I’m at in life now.

    Father leads me to a crowd of women, I can smell his wife before he turns to look at me. “Be seen.” He orders, walking past them, leaving me with them.

    “Honey—” Pandora, my stepmother calls out, her smile wide and bright. She must be so proud of her little girl Sera. This venue is expensive, and the wedding package they offer is just as expensive. “Oh, she came.”

    I lift my hand to wave, but she pulls me into a tight hug. “Hello, Liana baby.” she kisses my cheek. “Lovely of you to join us.”

    “Liana?” Mrs Thorne gasps, “As in Aeliana? Freya’s little girl?”

    Mom Pandora nods, “Yes that’s her.”

    “Oh my, you look so different, dear.” Mrs Cole smiles, eyeing me up and down. “How beautiful.”

    I swallow, “Thank you.” It’s hardly a compliment, she’s called me ugly a few times, and while Pandora stood up for me, she also laughed.

    “You’re so blessed Pandora, you have such gorgeous children.” Another remarks, one I don’t recognise. “Wow.”

    Mom laughs, the sound forced and fake. “Oh stop it. This one isn’t even mine, I can’t take credit for her.”

    Translation: she’s a screw-up but not mine. I’m only the Hartley family’s daughter when it’s convenient and unfortunately for me, that’s once in a never-blue-moon.

    “Where have you been, little Freya?” Mrs Thorne asks with a smile. My mother’s name is sweet on her tongue, from what I know they used to be good friends.

    Before I can answer, Mrs Cole chimes in. “Are you mated dear?” She asks, not giving me a chance to speak-just like her daughter. “When is your wedding? Seraphine is merely two years older than you.”

    “I’m unmated”

    “If you’d stayed in the pack rather than running off to do lord knows what, you’d have found him by now,” Mom says.

    Mrs Thorne snickers, “Oh, Pandora. Mates will always find each other, and there’s nothing wrong with the girl, she’s a looker she’s bound to find someone to fall for her.”

    Mrs Cole rolls her eyes, unbothered by any attempt to hide her hostility towards me. “Beauty is one thing, character is another.”

    And there it is, the reason I left.

    Half the pack has seen me naked, seen my shame, seen the pictures but no one asked for my side of the story. To them, there’s nothing words could say any louder than pictures did and that’s okay, I had no words then, I have no words now.

    Mom nervously laughs, “Aeliana, why don’t you say hi to your sister? It’s her that you’re here for isn’t it?”

    “Yeah,” I nod, swallowing down my shame. “Excuse me.”

    “Wait—””Mom calls out, trying to come with me or rather escape the awkwardness and embarrassment my presence just cost our family, again.”

    I give her a small smile and shake my head. She stares for a moment before nodding for me to go ahead. The Valour Hall is large, but finding the bride isn’t exactly hard. Seraphine and her friends are standing at the open bar, giggling and pointing at the guests, as usual.

    “She doesn’t see me, her friend Dalton is the first to see me. “Her smile vanishes as she taps my sister’s shoulder. ” Sera.”

    “What?” Sera asks, her eyes shifting when Dalton doesn’t speak. Unlike Dalton, her smile widens. “Oh, would you look who it is, Aeliana.”

    “Hi sis,” I force the words out. “Congratulations, you look lovely.”

    Seraphine pouts. “Oh, thank you.”

    “I must say, I thought you wouldn’t show.” Her friend says, “But here you are, and without a gift.”

    I frown, she’s gotten bold. Usually, it’s Seraphine’s best friend who speaks to me like that, but I don’t see her anywhere. Audrey and Seraphine are a package deal, could they have had a fall-out?

    “Rita, it’s fine.” Seraphine stops her, “There’s no need for two gifts I didn’t ask for, her presence is enough.”

    “I’ll just…”

    “Wait, come here.” Seraphine blurts out, her lips twitching with a smile. I know that smile, I hate it. It always means something is about to happen, something only her sadistic self finds funny, “You should meet my husband.” She says, snapping her fingers, and walking away.

    I roll my eyes, walking closely beside her while flashing my best smile for anyone watching, and trust me, everyone is watching the Gamma’s daughter who was caught in one of the very few high school sex scandals. ” He’s been dying to see you.”

    “So, when I meet him, do I say condolences, or would you want me to lie and congratulate him on marrying you?”

    Sera scoffs, “An invite doesn’t mean show up. You know better than to be here.” She tsks, pausing a few steps away from men in suits surrounding a table. “Bae,” she sweetly calls out. “My sister is here.”

    A few men turn, none of them the groom but when he finally turns to meet us, my whole world spirals.

    “Aeliana,” he says. “Long time no see.”

    No.

    That voice.

    He smiles at me, and my stomach coils with disgust, disdain, and discomfort. Everyone is talking but I can’t hear anything, my eyes start to ring. It’s him.

    The air in my lungs is deflating. I stumble backwards, and everyone’s eyes fall on me.

    My wolf mumbles something but I don’t hear it, I’m too focused on trying to breathe, to run. Even the hem of my dress feels heavy. My vision is starting to double, I need out.

    I need air…

    I stumble into something hard, no, someone?

    Nobody catches me, I fall to the floor, the ringing in my ears is dulled by the embarrassment, and when I try to stand, the worst thing that could have happened tonight spawns on me.

    “Mate.” My wolf says, “Mine.”

    My gaze lifts, immediately locking with cold eyes. And for the second time tonight? My whole world comes crumbling down.

    No. Not him.

    Alpha’s Rue: His Shunned Luna Chapter 2

    KINGSTON

    My wolf has been restless over the last few days, asking for his mate, and tonight, he made a show of having me walk around in search of a mate that doesn’t exist.

    I’m past mating age, I was sure I was going to have to choose a mate, and I have though unmarked but she’s my choice.

    My girlfriend Audrey, had been a ray of sunshine when I needed it most, and the pack adores her very much. Audrey accompanied me out for a smoke, but when we returned inside, my wolf grew even more restless, ecstatic. This is the first of many times it’s happened, and I was going to dismiss it until someone ran straight into me.

    It wasn’t her fault, I was looking at something Audrey was showing me, but when I look down to apologise, my wolf loses his mind.

    “Mate,” he chants repeatedly, each time more clear, possessive, claiming. His voice is so loud that it drowns out the music and chatter in the room. “Our mate, Kingston.”

    “Are you sure? She’s scentless.” I tell him.

    I can’t smell her but when her gaze lifts, everything changes. The bond hits me like a tidal wave, my chest burns. With anger, shock, and so many emotions I can’t give name to.

    Aeliana Hartley.

    She’s not supposed to be here. Not in my territory. Not in my life. Not anywhere close. Her eyes grow wide with a familiar hue of violet that only she has.

    I can’t believe my eyes. Aeliana disappeared from our lives almost five years ago, and no one has heard from her since and here she is, dressed in gold like the angel that I used to perceive her as.

    “Mate,” my wolf grumbles. “Claim her.” He snaps.

    My fists ball, nails digging into my palms as I fight hard to restrain myself. This has to be a joke, maybe my mate is somewhere in this room and not at my feet. Audrey tightens her grip on my arm, but I pull away, stepping closer to Aeliana.

    She rises, and just like she does when things get hard? She tries to make a run for it, refusing to address what only we two just felt. I grab her arm, and a zap of electricity tremors through my hand. I don’t think she felt it, she’s still staring at me in disbelief. “You felt it, didn’t you?” I ask, not the zap but the bond. That pull was strong, it almost brought me to my knees, and it weakened her for a moment.

    Aeliana doesn’t speak, she simply watches me, eyes distant, and her chest heaving. She’s high. I’ve heard about this habit of hers, but it’s my first time witnessing it. I’m disgusted, appalled at the moon goddess’s choice for me. “You don’t belong here, you can’t be my mate.”

    “Let go,” she swallows, her hand trembling.

    “I’ll make this very easy for both of us, Hartley.” I bite out, refusing to say her name. I haven’t said her name out loud in years but I will have to.

    Her eyes soften, something flickers in them, but it passes so fast I don’t get to decipher it. “Kingston, please..” she says, I’m unsure of what she’s begging, for but there is no way we could be together. Not in this lifetime.

    I straighten, I need to end this now. I can’t have her for a mate, or for a Luna, my pack deserves better, and her selfishness won’t ruin it. “I Alpha Kingston Vale of Mooncrest, reject you Aeliana Hartley, as my mate and Luna. I reject all bonds and sever all ties.” I force the words out, pain clawing at my chest. People gasp, whisper, murmur. “Accept my rejection,” I demand, squeezing her wrist tighter.

    She doesn’t speak, her lips part but nothing comes out. When a tear rolls down her cheek I snap again, “Accept my rejection.” I growl.

    “I Aeliana Hartley of Mooncrest,” she begins, her voice raw and breaths heaving like she’s running. I squeeze tighter and she chokes out a cry, “I accept your rejec…”

    “No!” someone interrupts. I let go of Aeliana’s wrist, ready to tear apart whoever dares interrupt. My jaw clenches when I see who it is. My father, Alpha Dante. “What is going on here?” He demands.

    Someone beats me to it before I can speak. “Aeliana is Kingston’s mate.” The familiar voice says. My younger brother, Damien.

    “Not for long,” I counter. “I will sever this bond, it’s a mistake. Someone like her could never be my mate, or my pack’s Luna.”

    “You will do no such thing, King.” Dad snaps, “Aeliana is fated, you can’t reject her.”

    Fated?

    Does he hear himself? She’s not fated she’s troubled, she’s not fit to be my mate. “I already rejected her and I will do it again. All she has to do is accept it.”

    Aeliana’s lip quivers. “I accept your…”

    “No, Aeliana.” My Dad interrupts yet again, stepping between us. “You can’t reject a bond forged by not only the moon goodness herself, but the fates.”

    “Father,” I warn.

    “Aeliana is to be your Luna. If you reject her, you disrupt the order of things, you renounce your right to the pack, Kingston.” He firmly asserts, watching me with a kind of disappointment he reserves for my other siblings.

    Aeliana lets out a loud gasp, as if starving for air before she runs out. Nobody follows her, everyone is familiar with her dramatics.

    “Without her, you will not be Alpha, the final handover won’t happen. You can only get my blessing if she’s by your side.” He warns, “Gamma Hartley, a word.”

    I watch as he walks away and right behind him is Aeliana’s father, People are whispering about what just happened, the public threat my dad bestowed upon me, and how Aeliana ruined Seraphine’s wedding celebration.

    A hand smooths over my bicep, I look down to find Audrey staring at me. “King,” she chokes out, tears streaming down her cheeks. “What’s happening?”

    “Go home, Audrey.” I gritt through my teeth, annoyed by the last twenty minutes. “I’ll meet you there.”

    My dad’s voice reaches me through the pack link, “Conference room fourteen.”

    That’s all he says.

    Knowing my dad, he’ll be gone if I’m a second late so I walk fast, pacing my feet in alignment with the thumping sound in my chest. The door to conference room fourteen is slightly ajar, and inside are my mother, father, and Damien.

    “Dad, I can’t marry Aeliana.”

    “Why not?” he asks, swirling his liquor.

    “Are you serious?” I scoff. “Don’t you know…”

    “If this is about her past incident, she made a mistake, she was young.” he interrupts. But that’s no excuse, she knew better than to act as she did. “What she did is no different from what you’d been doing, except there was no audience. The tape was unfortunate.”

    “It’s not about the tape,” I groan. Sure, I was disappointed when I learned Aeliana filmed herself getting fucked by some random man, but that’s her personal business. It’s the way she treated people that unerved me, the way she cut me out of her life like I was nothing, but she was everything to me. “Dad, you don’t know the kind of person that she has turned into, Aeliana is…”

    “King, calm down.” Mom shakes her head, “You’re getting so pale.”

    “Mom,” I say with a heavy sigh. Of course, I’m pale, I just saw a ghost from my past and I’m bonded to it.

    Mom frowns, “You used to love Aeliana, what changed?”

    Alpha’s Rue: His Shunned Luna Chapter 3

    My answer is instant, obvious. “She changed, and the things she did…”

    “Forget them,” Dad groans, his tone bored. “Aeliana is going to be your Luna. You will marry her, and only her if you desire for the handover to proceed as planned.”

    My eyes shift to Mom and she nods, of course she’d agree with him. They’re a team, something Aeliana and I can’t be. “Your father is right, you have to marry your true mate, or you’ll curse our bloodline.”

    “The bloodline will be fine. I’m not the first to reject a mate.”

    Anger flashes in Dad’s eyes, “You will not reject her.”

    “I already have,” I argue. He will drop this obsession with true mates, he didn’t think I had a mate until minutes ago.

    “And that better be the last time you say it, Son. Unless you want to pass on being Alpha.”

    I scoff. “Don’t you think that’s a bit too far?” I ask, an eyebrow raised. I have worked so hard for this pack, I earned the handover not only because I’m his first or oldest. “I can’t just marry her, I have…”

    “That lost omega who can’t see left or right without you?” Mom chuckles.

    I pause.

    Shocked. She loves Audrey, everyone does. But suddenly Aeliana appears, and she’s degrading her? “No, my love. You will drop her. The girl is sweet, but she doesn’t have what it takes to be Luna.”

    “And Aeliana does?” I almost laugh. “What does Audrey have to do to become qualified? Is sleeping with random men the…”

    My cheek flares up.

    It takes a second for me to realise I’ve been slapped. Damien lowly chuckles when I go silent, touching my cheek. My Mom’s gaze hardens, “If you don’t want her say the word and your father will have one of your brothers be Alpha, but if you want this pack still? You will respect your Luna, Kingston.”

    Dad rises from his seat with a smirk that says, I had that slap coming the second I disagreed with him. “Come on, my Luna. It’s late.” He says.

    They leave the room without so much as a goodbye. Aeliana has only been here a few minutes and everything is falling apart.

    My leg swipes one of the chairs and it hits the little table at my left, breaking the glass vase on top of it. “Wooo,” my brother whistles, nursing a bottle of beer. “Kingston,” He calls out, proceeding to get close despite my silence. “Listen, if you’re so attached to Audrey, keep her as your mistress.” The idiot smirks, “Nobody cares, but is that pussy worth passing out on the keys to the kingdom…”

    “Shut up,” I groan, caressing my temples. I’m trying to soak in the last hour, and he won’t quit talking.

    “I don’t get it, big bro, you’ve wanted this, and not for the reasons I did. You care about this pack, and you’re just going to give it up? For Audrey?” He sneers, “You’re smarter than that Kingston.”

    I shoot him a glare.

    “Don’t shoot the messenger because he’s right.” He smirks, raising his hands in defeat. “Just take my advice, the pack is safer in your hands. I’d ruin it, Callum would fuck it up. And Rowan could be better but he’s not eligible unless he overthrows our father. Which is highly unlikely, Rowan kisses father ass he can’t challenge him.” He reminds me, his gaze shifting. “Oh, here’s Row now.”

    “What’s going on?”

    “Aeliana?” I scoff. “Why her?”

    “You’ve been obsessed with the girl you were in diapers, you’ve always had eyes for her so what’s the problem now?” Damien asks, once again, unprovoked.

    “Shut up Damien,” I growl.

    “Yo Rom, wasn’t he obsessed with her?”

    “Tread carefully,” Rowan warns him.

    “Come on,” Damien chuckles. “Are you going to encourage him to give the pack up to be with Audrey just because she’s pretty?” He pauses, and when no one answers him he speaks again. “And have you seen Aeliana yet? The girl grew into her body.” he whistles, the sound ticking me off. “If I weren’t mated or married already then trust, I’d have no problem pursuing her. Those tits? They look so sexy, juicy like something crafted for p**n by a skilled surgeon. I bet they’re better when she’s nak…”

    My fist swings before I can think to stop myself. The collision leaves me with a dull ache in my knuckles. Damien chokes, stumbling. “King!” Rowan warns, rushing to aid my idiot brother.

    Damien laughs, “Relax, everyone has seen her tit’s although they were smaller back then.”

    I’m overstimulated, if he mentions Aeliana’s tit’s again I’m going to cripple him. Rowan must read my mind because he shakes his head. “Leave,” he sighs. “You’re drunk, he’s annoyed, this will get bloody fast.”

    To my surprise, Damien listens but instead of going out the door he pauses and sighs heavily-loud. “All I did was try to be a good brother but fuck me and discard me like you will be doing with Audrey…” Damien smirk, “Or is it Aeliana you will discard?” He smirks, “Goodnight brother.” He says, slipping away.

    Between Damien, Dad, and Aeliana, I’m losing my mind. And Audrey.

    God, what do I do?

    She’s dedicated her life to me, and the way she looked at me out there…

    Rowan slaps a hand on my shoulder, “You good man?”

    “Why her?” I grunt. I’d take a crazy woman over her, although there’s not much difference between the two.

    Rowan lets a brief chuckle. “Are you surprised? I mean, it’s Aeliana.”

    “It’s not,” I snap. “The Aeliana we left doesn’t exist anymore Rowan, you know what she did.”

    “I do,” he nods. “I hate her actions too, but I’m not surprised she’s your mate. Uncle is making you choose between the pack and a Luna of your choice…” he trails off on an unspoken thought. He can’t even find the words.

    “I know,” I nod. Aeliana is no longer haunting my dreams, she’s here again. ‘Tis cruel of my father to make me choose between the pack and a life without Aeliana.

    “So, what are you going to do?”

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • Rejected By My Betrothed, Claimed By The Warlord Alpha novel by Liz Nozick

    Rejected By My Betrothed, Claimed By The Warlord Alpha novel by Liz Nozick

    Blurb

    I was born a wolfless cripple in the Richmond Pack, but by royal decree, I was engaged to the kingdom’s Champion Knight, Emory.

    During the winter banquet, my half-sister Dessie suddenly tilted backward into the royal ice pond, screaming that I pushed her.

    In my previous life, I reached out in panic to save her, only to be dragged down and framed for attempted murder.

    When Emory dove into the freezing water, he swam right past my sinking body to rescue her instead.

    Once ashore, my own father and my betrothed ignored my desperate pleas.

    They branded me a vicious, jealous traitor.

    Emory publicly broke our engagement to marry Dessie, while my father threw me to the executioner to wash away the family’s shame with my blood.

    Until my head was on the chopping block, I didn’t understand.

    Why did my own family want me dead just because I had no inner wolf?

    Why did the knight who swore to protect me conspire with my illegitimate sister to destroy my life?

    Opening my eyes again, I was back on the snow-dusted terrace, right as Dessie was setting up the exact same trap.

    “A wolfless cripple like you should crawl back to the gutter,” she whispered, falling backward.

    This time, I didn’t flinch or beg for help.

    Instead, my fingers shot out like iron clamps, grabbing her wrist, and I dragged her into the freezing depths with me.

    👉 READ NOW

    Rejected By My Betrothed, Claimed By The Warlord Alpha Chapter 1

    Kalea POV:

    “Sister, Emory Lambert is destined to be mine,” Dessie Richmond whispered, her voice a poisonous thread slipping through the frigid breeze of the Royal Lunar Garden. “A wolfless cripple like you should crawl back to the gutter where you belong.”

    Her amber eyes gleamed with malice.

    Before I could even process the violent sting of the freezing air on my face, Dessie tilted her body backward, angling herself toward the black waters of the royal ice pond.

    She was setting up the exact same trap from my past life.

    She wanted the entire court to see her fall, to hear her screams, and to watch me take the blame for attempting to drown the favored younger daughter of the Richmond Pack.

    In that past life, everything had favored her. I had screamed in panic and lunged to grab her, my fingers clamping hard around her wrist and leaving livid grip-bruises on her skin.

    When we fell, I thrashed and begged Emory to save me, so when he swam straight past me to lift Dessie first, onlookers called it justice — the Champion saving the victim from her attacker.

    The healers found my marks on her, and nothing of hers on me. That was enough for a charge of attempted murder.

    Now, everything is different. The terrace is crowded with high-ranking nobles, and I know exactly where her nails will land.

    I already saw through her act completely. I would play along — and turn her own trap against her.

    I did not flinch. Instead, I calmly extended my left arm toward her, offering the loose silver-blue cuff at my wrist as if trying to catch her. Dessie, already falling backward to fake her accident, instinctively clawed out and seized my wrist hard to make it look real, her nails digging deep into my sleeve.

    Dessie’s smug grin instantly froze.

    Her eyes widened in shock as she realized she had grabbed me first. Before she could let go, I stopped resisting. I leaned into her pull and let her own backward momentum drag us both off the marble edge together.

    A chorus of shrill gasps erupted from the noble onlookers lining the snow-dusted terrace.

    Then came the deafening crash of freezing water.

    The shock of the sub-zero pond slammed into my chest, squeezing every drop of air from my lungs.

    The weight of our velvet winter gowns pulled us straight into the dark depths.

    Dessie thrashed wildly, her arms flailing like a dying bird as her silken skirts tangled around her legs.

    Even as she thrashed, her right hand remained locked around my left wrist, her nails tearing frantically at my silk cuff.

    Her mouth opened in a silent scream under the water, bubbles bursting around her terrified, contorted face.

    Unlike my past self, I did not scream, did not beg, did not leave a single mark on her. I stared back at her through the murky blue, cold and completely still.

    Pain tore through my limbs, but my mind was clearer than it had ever been in my two lifetimes.

    Above the surface, muffled shouts vibrated through the water.

    “Someone help! The Richmond ladies have fallen in!”

    Through the rippling surface, a familiar silhouette tore off his heavy velvet cloak on the bank.

    Emory Lambert.

    The newly crowned Champion Knight of the Grand Royal Trials, and my betrothed.

    He dove into the water with a clean, powerful slice.

    His eyes scanned the depths, searching desperately.

    He looked right past my sinking form.

    Without a single glance in my direction, Emory swam furiously toward Dessie, wrapping his strong arms around her waist to haul her toward the light.

    A bitter, silent laugh bubbled in my throat.

    He was supposed to be my promised mate by royal decree, yet his body reacted purely on instinct to save my illegitimate half-sister.

    I let my limbs go limp, allowing the darkness of the pond to drag me downward.

    I needed this.

    I needed every high-ranking noble on that terrace to see him choose her over me.

    Darkness began to creep into the edges of my vision.

    My lungs burned for oxygen.

    Then, the water exploded behind me.

    A massive shockwave ripped through the freezing depths, stirring a violent current that pushed the weeds aside.

    A shadow moved with terrifying, predatory speed.

    Before I could even register the beast-like force tearing through the water, a pair of scalding, calloused hands locked onto my waist.

    The grip was unyielding, made of pure steel.

    I was yanked violently against a broad, rock-hard chest.

    Even submerged in ice, the overwhelming scent of crushing cedar and raw, wild musk flooded my senses, piercing straight through the freezing haze in my mind.

    It was the aura of a dominant, top-tier Alpha.

    Yet the moment his skin touched mine, the suffocating pressure of his command miraculously softened, wrapping around my freezing body like an invisible shield.

    I forced my heavy eyelids open.

    Through the distorted water, I looked directly into a pair of piercing, golden-amber wolf eyes.

    Gaines Moss.

    The notorious young lord of the Moss Pack, heir to the northern iron legions, and widely feared across the capital as an uncontrollable, violent rogue Alpha.

    There was no cruelty in his gaze.

    Only a dark, frantic intensity that bordered on madness.

    The moment my wet shoulder pressed against his collarbone, a sharp, electric jolt surged from his palm straight down my spine.

    My frozen muscles trembled beneath the sheer heat of his touch.

    Gaines’s jaw tightened.

    His arm banded around my waist with possessive force, pulling me flush against him as his powerful legs kicked against the current, launching us toward the surface like an arrow.

    On the other side of the pond, Emory was already breaking through the surface with Dessie clutched tightly against his chest.

    The freezing air hit my face in a violent rush as Gaines hauled me out of the water, his long fingers instinctively cradling the back of my head to shield me from the jagged marble edge.

    The deafening roar of the royal court swept over us in an instant.

    Rejected By My Betrothed, Claimed By The Warlord Alpha Chapter 2

    Kalea POV:

    Gaines hoisted me onto the frosted stone bank with a single, effortless pull.

    I collapsed onto my hands and knees, coughing up bitter mouthfuls of pond water while the freezing wind whipped my soaked hair across my face.

    A few paces away, Emory stumbled onto the grass, carrying a weeping Dessie in his arms.

    Dessie clung to Emory’s soaked tunic, her fingers digging into his chest as she pointed a trembling, pale hand directly at me.

    “She pushed me!” Dessie wailed, her voice echoing across the courtyard for every noble Lord and Lady to hear. “Kalea tried to kill me! She dragged me into the ice!”

    Emory pulled Dessie tighter against him, his handsome face twisting with righteous disgust as he glared down at me.

    “Kalea, you have lost your mind!” Emory barked, his voice carrying the full weight of a high-born knight. “Dessie is your sister! How could your heart be so vicious?”

    The surrounding nobles immediately began to murmur, their judgmental gazes stinging like nettles against my skin.

    “Look at her… a wolfless cripple with no inner wolf, and yet so full of spite.”

    “She knows she cannot hold a knight like Lord Lambert, so she attacks her own kin.”

    I pushed myself up from the cold flagstones.

    Water dripped from my ragged skirts, but I stood with my spine straight, refusing to shake beneath their contempt.

    I did not offer a tearful excuse.

    I did not beg Emory to look at me.

    Instead, I took three calm, measured steps across the wet gravel, stopping directly in front of Dessie where she sat nestled in my betrothed’s arms.

    Dessie looked up at me, a flicker of triumphant cruelty dancing in the depths of her wet eyes.

    I raised my right hand and swung it with every ounce of strength in my body.

    Smack!

    The sharp crack of flesh against flesh echoed off the high stone arches like a whip cracking through the garden.

    Dessie’s head snapped sideways.

    She tumbled out of Emory’s lap onto the frozen mud, her hair coming undone as five bright crimson welts bloomed across her pale cheek.

    The entire garden plunged into absolute silence.

    No one had ever seen the quiet, submissive Richmond daughter strike a single blow in her life.

    “Kalea!” Emory roared, his hand instantly dropping to the silver pommel of his ceremonial sword. “Are you insane? You dare strike her in front of the entire court?”

    I looked into his furious eyes, completely unfazed by the threat of steel.

    “I answer to the laws of the Moon Goddess and the King,” I said, my voice ringing out clear and steady. “If my sister insists that I violently shoved her into the pond with murderous intent, then let the Royal Healers examine her body right here, right now.”

    Emory’s brow furrowed.

    Dessie froze on the ground, her hand flying to her swollen cheek.

    “If she was pushed with violent force,” I continued, staring down at them both, “her shoulders, neck, and arms will bear the bruising of a struggle. A wolfless girl cannot push an able-bodied wolf without leaving heavy marks.”

    Dessie’s breath hitched.

    She quickly clutched her sodden collar shut, her voice rising in panic.

    “No… there is no need! Everyone saw it! Emory, please take me away, I am freezing…”

    “A refusal to be examined is an admission of deceit,” I cut her off cleanly, turning my head toward the two white-robed figures pushing through the crowd. “Healers of the royal court, do your duty.”

    The two royal healers, bound by strict crown oaths, did not hesitate.

    They stepped past the hesitating guards and knelt beside Dessie, ignoring her frantic squirming.

    A faint golden light flared from the chief healer’s fingertips as he pressed his palm against her collarbone, neck, and wrists.

    After a few tense seconds, the senior healer stood up and addressed the gathered court.

    “Lady Dessie bears no defensive bruising, no grip marks, and no signs of blunt force on her upper body.”

    The crowd stirred.

    The healer lifted his hand, holding up several fine threads of silver-blue silk plucked from beneath Dessie’s fingernails.

    “However, the silk fibers under her nails match the fabric of Lady Kalea’s left wrist. The physical evidence shows Lady Dessie reached out and grabbed Lady Kalea first.”

    A wave of sharp murmurs swept through the terrace.

    The sneers that had been aimed at me flipped instantly toward the girl cowering in the mud.

    Emory’s face turned an ugly shade of crimson.

    His hand slowly dropped from his sword, caught entirely off guard by the undeniable proof.

    He swallowed hard, stepping toward me with a stiff, apologetic expression.

    “Kalea… Dessie was merely frightened by the water. She lost her head. Here, let me give you my cloak—”

    “Do not touch me, Knight Lambert,” I said, stepping back so his fingers grabbed empty air. “Had the healers not been here, you would have gladly watched the executioner take my head for a crime she fabricated.”

    A low, mocking chuckle rumbled from behind me.

    Gaines Moss was leaning casually against a carved marble pillar, wringing the pond water from the sleeve of his black tunic.

    His golden wolf eyes burned with raw contempt as he looked at Emory.

    “The grand Champion of the Trials cannot even tell the difference between an attack and a desperate cling,” Gaines drawled, his deep voice carrying easily over the garden. “It seems the crown handed a silver sword to a blind fool.”

    Emory gritted his teeth, his knuckles turning white, but he dared not draw a blade against the heir of the Moss Pack.

    Before another word could be spoken, the heavy, synchronized thud of armored boots sounded from the grand colonnade.

    The royal guard parted the sea of nobles, their golden wolf banners fluttering in the freezing wind.

    Rejected By My Betrothed, Claimed By The Warlord Alpha Chapter 3

    Kalea POV:

    The crowd parted instantly as the Luna Queen swept into the garden pavilion, flanked by four high court maidens and a dozen royal guards.

    Her deep sapphire gown trailed across the stone, and the sheer authority radiating from her high-born Alpha bloodline made the surrounding nobles bow their heads in reverent silence.

    Dessie saw her chance.

    She dragged herself across the muddy flagstones, sobbing hysterically toward the Queen’s feet.

    “Your Majesty! Please, have mercy!” Dessie wept, intentionally letting her torn, soaked chemise slip from her shoulder to expose the curve of her neck to the cold air. “My virtue has been ruined in front of the entire court! I fell into the water with Knight Lambert… our bodies touched before all these witnesses! The ancient pack honor demands that he take me as his true, lawfully bound mate!”

    She was trying to use the old modesty laws to force a marriage right then and there.

    A dry scoff came from the pillar behind me.

    “Threw herself in the water, botched the lie, and now she is selling her virtue like cheap meat,” Gaines sneered loudly, crossing his thick arms over his chest. “The females of the Richmond Pack truly know how to haggle in the mud.”

    Dessie flinched as if struck, and Emory bowed his head in sheer humiliation.

    The Luna Queen looked down at Dessie with cold, unyielding disgust.

    “The royal gardens are sacred ground,” the Queen said, her voice cutting through the frosty air like a steel blade. “You dare use cheap trickery to seduce your sister’s betrothed and fabricate lies in our presence?”

    The Queen flicked her golden folding fan, delivering her verdict without a second thought.

    “Dessie Richmond has shown herself to be deceitful and lacking all honor. By royal decree, she is stripped of her right to attend tonight’s Debutante Ball and is demoted to a Disgraced Omega, forever Unworthy of a Mate-Bond.”

    A strangled gasp ripped from Dessie’s throat.

    She collapsed entirely into the puddle.

    To be branded a Disgraced Omega meant she was legally barred from ever becoming a recognized pack Luna or a knight’s lawful wife.

    Her grand ambitions had been gutted with a single sentence.

    Before I could savor the look of despair on her face, a heavy weight dropped over my shoulders.

    Gaines had stepped up beside me.

    Without asking for permission, he wrapped his massive, dry black fur cloak around my shivering frame.

    The thick pelt was radiating intense Alpha heat, saturated with the rich, intoxicating scent of pine and fresh cedar.

    It drove away the bone-deep chill in an instant.

    Gaines leaned down slightly, his lips brushing dangerously close to the tip of my cold ear.

    “You have sharp claws, little bird,” he murmured… “Shame your body is made of glass.” My pulse jumped, but I did not pull the cloak away.

    I forced myself to whisper so only he could hear: “Why help me, Lord Moss? I am wolfless, still betrothed, and a trouble that burns whoever touches it.”

    Gaines lowered his eyes to my frozen hands clutching his cloak.

    “Because I hate men who abandon their own mate to save face,” he said quietly.

    He glanced toward the golden guards herding us to the throne room.

    “Walk behind me into that hall, little bird. I give you my word—if Jaheim touches you again today, my spear will answer before the King does. Doubt me? Then watch.”

    I stared at him. I did not fully believe him—I have believed no one in two lifetimes—but his heat was real, and I needed a living shield to survive the throne. I chose to gamble on this mad dog once.

    I held the thick fur closed over my chest, meeting his burning amber gaze with a steady nod.

    “Silence!”

    The sharp voice of Elder Silas Foster echoed from the archway.

    The king’s personal golden guard formed two rigid lines along the path.

    “By royal command of Alpha King Alistair,” Foster announced, unrolling a gilded scroll. “The daughters of the Richmond Pack, Knight Lambert, and Lord Gaines Moss are summoned immediately to the High Throne Room!”

    There was no room for argument.

    Two handmaidens tossed a rough woolen blanket over the trembling Dessie, and our group was marched through the towering black iron corridors toward the central palace.

    We stepped into the grand hall.

    Massive black stone pillars carved in the likeness of howling dire wolves supported a vaulted ceiling lit by thousands of iron chandeliers.

    Dozens of high elders and powerful Pack Alphas lined both sides of the throne room, their heavy Alpha auras saturating the air with suffocating tension.

    At the far end, seated upon the colossal throne of white wolf bones, sat Alpha King Alistair in his golden battle armor.

    And standing in the center of the hall, waiting with a face dark as thunder, was my father—Jaheim Richmond, Pack Alpha of the Richmond territory.

    Jaheim’s cruel eyes locked onto me the moment I walked in.

    Seeing me wrapped in Gaines’s cloak while Dessie shuffled behind in mud-stained rags made the veins in his neck bulge with fury.

    Before I could even cross the marble threshold to bow before the throne, Jaheim broke rank and charged across the floor.

    “You worthless, ungrateful mutt!” Jaheim roared, his mid-tier Alpha aura exploding in a violent shockwave. “You bring disgrace to our name and dare plot against your own sister?”

    He did not wait for an explanation.

    His heavy, leather-gauntleted hand swung through the air with brutal, bone-shattering force.

    Crack!

    The blow struck the side of my face so hard it sent me crashing sideways onto the freezing marble floor.

    My head slammed against the stone, and the warm, metallic taste of blood instantly filled my mouth.

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  • The Jilted Mate’s Rise To Supreme Luna novel by Dong Shengxue

    The Jilted Mate's Rise To Supreme Luna novel by Dong Shengxue

    Blurb

    I barely survived a brutal Rogue wolf ambush on the highway, an attack designed to ruin my purity right before my high-profile pack wedding.

    But the real betrayal came when I returned home. Even after I endured a humiliating public test to prove my scent was completely untainted, my fiancé Deondre and my father still abandoned me.

    My step-sister Brandee, the one who secretly paid the mercenaries to attack me, was given my place as the primary Luna.

    Deondre tossed a revised contract at my feet, demanding I stay as his unranked concubine.

    When I tore the papers to shreds, my own father slapped me hard across the face, stripping me of my name and banishing me from the pack entirely.

    “You will end up as a nameless Rogue in the dirt!” Deondre sneered.

    I stood bleeding on the front steps, my heart entirely dead to the family that had just thrown me away like garbage over a fabricated rumor.

    I couldn’t understand how blood and sacred vows could be discarded so easily, leaving me to face the wasteland alone.

    But before I could leave the estate, a fleet of twelve armored black SUVs surrounded the gates.

    Hillery Zimmerman, the Supreme Alpha of the continent and the most feared warlord alive, stepped out of the shadows.

    He crushed my ex-fiancé to his knees with a single wave of his aura, wiped the blood from my lip, and asked me to be his only Luna.}

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    The Jilted Mate’s Rise To Supreme Luna Chapter 1

    Ember’s POV

    Seven days until I’m bound to Deondre Langley.

    The Bowers needed Langley’s border troops. Langley needed our mineral corridor. I was the thing caught in the middle. My father hadn’t even asked me.

    I’d made my peace with it.

    Aunt Martha was the only one who grieved it with me. She let me take her up to the Sanctuary, where Elder Silas Thorne handed me pine boughs and sweetgrass. I laid the offerings into the brazier the way I’d been taught, listened to a few words of blessing, and helped her back down the hill. The armored SUV was waiting at the gate. I climbed in. The door shut, and the heater seeped into my fingertips.

    The engine pressed low against my ears. Then the rear tire blew.

    The sound was sharper than a gunshot. The car lurched right, the seatbelt cut into my shoulder, and my head cracked against the side window. White light burst behind my eyes. The tires screamed on the asphalt, gravel spraying, nothing outside but spinning gray and dead grass. The SUV finally stopped on the shoulder, hood smoking.

    The driver drew his gun and screamed at me not to move. Out of the dust, three Rogue wolves came walking out of the dead brushwood. Too big. Too thin. Gray coats crusted with mange and dried scabs, jaws split wide to the ear. The stink of rot came through the door seams.

    The biggest one hit the hood. Silver-black claws punched through the windshield, glass spraying inward, and it dragged the screaming driver out through the gap. Blood slapped across the seats, copper flooding my throat. The second tore the rear door off, teeth snapping inches from my ear.

    I didn’t scream. My right hand found the silver dagger. When it lunged into the cabin, I put the blade into the soft hollow under its jaw. Silver hissed against wolf flesh, and the stench of scorched fur filled my nose and mouth. It yelped, pulled back, and went down twitching in the dirt.

    I climbed out the other door and hit the gravel with my shoulder. My dress ripped. My knees split open, the pain sharp and bright. I pushed myself up and ran for the abandoned pump station fifty yards off. Behind me the third wolf howled and came, claws hammering the ground, closer with every stride.

    I squeezed through the broken metal partition, pulled my wolf sense in tight, held my heartbeat down, back pressed to a rusted pipe, both hands locked on the hilt. Its muzzle pushed through the gap. Hot, wet breath steamed against the metal, drool hitting the ground inches from my boot. My muscles ached and shook.

    Then, as it took a step toward my shadow, an overwhelming Alpha pressure came down.

    The air went heavy all at once. The rogue froze, whined, and ran with its tail tucked.

    I slumped against the pipe, gasping, sweat soaked through my collar. Through a gap in the wall I could hear the sirens closing in, blue light sweeping the wreckage of the pump station in slow pulses.

    Between the flashes, a figure in a black cloak crossed the waste ground behind the station. Tall, wide-shouldered, moving fast, like a shadow cut out of a storm. I narrowed my eyes, trying to make him out, and he was already gone into the gray dead grass, leaving only a trace of cedar and blizzard in the air.

    “Ember!”

    Brandee’s voice came from the highway, sweet enough to rot teeth. I stayed flat against the rusted wall. The Langley convoy sat on the shoulder, silver falcon emblems cold under the headlights. Deondre got out, his uniform knife-creased. Brandee had her arm through his, rose perfume heavy enough to fight the wind. There was red clay on her heels.

    I never expected that all of this had anything to do with Brandee.

    They walked a few steps toward the pump station. Deondre frowned and scanned the waste ground, hand resting on the holster at his hip. Brandee went up on her toes, peering, her gaze skipping right over the Rogue’s corpse and never quite reaching the pipe where I was hidden.

    I didn’t make a sound. My fingers tightened on the dagger, blood running off my knee onto the broken brick at my feet.

    Where the cloaked figure had vanished, there was nothing but dead grass bending in the wind.

    The Jilted Mate’s Rise To Supreme Luna Chapter 2

    Hillery’s POV

    Morning frost still clung to Zimmerman territory, and the Old Wastes Highway was the shortest line through the gray buffer zone. I should have been at the northern outpost by nightfall, dealing personally with the smuggled cargo my border patrol had seized.

    But taking a shortcut never actually saves time.

    The intelligence was clear enough: the eldest Bowers daughter would be bound to Deondre Langley in seven days. I hadn’t planned to remember the name. Until this moment.

    “Alpha. Smoke ahead.” Arlin sat in the passenger seat, and the armored car was slowing on the gravel. I looked up and saw a column of black smoke cutting straight up at the end of the dead grass, like someone had scored a burn mark across the horizon.

    The convoy slowed. I lowered the window and let the cold in. It carried rust, scorched rubber, and something deeper.

    Blood. A lot of it. Fresh.

    Then the bond moved.

    That thread, the one that had always been there, the one it had taken me years to learn to ignore, jerked hard inside my chest. My wolf was awake instantly. It reached down the other end of the bond and rolled a low sound in its throat. It knew her. My fated mate.

    I pressed my hand to my chest, knuckles white. The sigils under my collar burned.

    “Alpha?” Arlin looked over, his face tightening in a heartbeat. He’d known me too long not to know what that expression meant on me.

    “Coordinates.” My voice came out rough. “Hers.”

    “Whose—”

    “Ember Bowers.”

    I didn’t wait for his second sentence. The door was open, my boots were in the gravel and the cracked dirt. The other end of the bond was shaking hard. Fear, sharp and cold, mixed with adrenaline. Then pain — knees, shoulder, palm burned on an iron pipe. Every place she was hurt drove into me like a needle.

    She was running.

    My wolf was snarling. Hunt. Go. Now.

    I shut my eyes and forced it down. Something else came through the bond: her heartbeat, held very low. Not panic. Cold. The feel of fingers locked around something — metal, silver, a bloody hilt. She’d killed the first one. The recoil came back through my own hand, as if I’d held the blade myself.

    When the third wolf closed in, I let the pressure out.

    The Alpha command hit the waste ground through the bond and landed as precisely as a hand on a beast’s scruff. It froze, whined, and ran with its tail tucked. But Ember’s reaction tightened my chest. She didn’t relax. Her heart went from terror to alertness, then quickly into something colder, as if someone had turned her whole body’s temperature down a few degrees.

    She knew someone had helped her. She didn’t know who. She had no intention of finding out.

    “Alpha.” Arlin’s voice came from behind me, pitched low. “Langley’s people are here.”

    I turned. Blue lights flickered at the end of the highway. The Langley convoy sat on the shoulder, silver falcon emblems cold under the headlights. Deondre Langley got out, uniform knife-creased, and scanned toward the pump station.

    Deondre walked right past the pipe she was hiding in. Less than ten yards. He didn’t see her. Brandee followed him, her gaze crossing the broken wall of the pump station, pausing one second, sliding away. Her nose wrinkled slightly, as if she’d caught something, but the rose perfume and the scorched dirt of the wastes covered too much.

    Interesting. His wife-to-be was hiding in a ruin, covered in blood, and he was standing in the sunlight with a hand over his nose, offended by the smell.

    “Arlin.”

    “Here.”

    “The Rogue that got away ran east. Cut it off. Alive.”

    “Yes.” Arlin typed the order into his tablet, and Black Guard squads swept around the flank.

    Ember came out of the pump station. Brandee saw her first. That carefully arranged expression froze for half a second, then folded into concern, and she ran for her. Deondre turned, took in the ruined dress and the blood, stayed three steps back, and covered his nose.

    The three of them exchanged a few words. From half a waste ground away, all I saw was Ember standing straight, Deondre’s lips moving, Brandee gesturing beside him. Then Ember walked around them, toward the highway. Deondre reached for her shoulder. She spun, dagger tip at his throat. He went still. Brandee stepped back twice.

    Ember put the dagger away and kept walking. Deondre stood there a few seconds, straightened his collar, and turned back toward the convoy. Brandee followed, glanced over her shoulder, then got into the car. The blue lights died. The convoy turned and headed for the estate.

    Down the bond, Ember’s heartbeat settled slowly. She was still walking. Not fast, but not stopping.

    I watched her go. At the other end of the bond, her heartbeat knocked against the inside of my ribs, one beat at a time.

    “Alpha.” Arlin turned from the front seat. “The Rogue’s contained, in the third squad’s vehicle. What do you want done with it?”

    “Bring it to the underground cells.”

    “Yes.”

    I took one last look at her back. She was moving fast across the waste ground, the blood on her knees darkening the gravel, and she didn’t stop. I leaned back into my seat, palm still pressed to my chest, the heat of the sigils slowly fading.

    “Back to command.”

    The Jilted Mate’s Rise To Supreme Luna Chapter 3

    Ember’s POV

    I walked out of the pump station with the blood on my knees soaked dark brown through the inside of my skirt. Deondre stood a dozen yards off, his pressed uniform like a clean flag planted in the waste. Brandee saw me first. Her face froze for half a second, and then she ran over, heels ticking on the gravel.

    “Oh my God, Ember!” She stopped in front of me, both hands hovering in the air. “You scared me to death! What did those filthy Rogues do to you?”

    Under the rose perfume: the red clay of the Old Wastes, cheap tobacco, and the rotting sweetness of Rogue breath. The red clay was on her heels.

    I looked at her and said nothing.

    Deondre turned, took in the ruined dress and the blood on my knees. He stood three steps away and raised a hand to his nose.

    “Your scent is contaminated.” His voice was a military report. “Did they touch you?”

    There was nothing in his brown eyes but disgust and calculation. This man had promised to protect me. He hadn’t asked how many places I was bleeding.

    “Three Rogues. My driver is dead. I killed one and hid in the pump station.” I said it one word at a time. “While you were standing here covering your nose, did it occur to you that I might be in there, bleeding?”

    Deondre’s jaw locked. “What kind of attitude is that?”

    “Ember, you have to understand his position,” Brandee cut in, her voice soft as syrup, reaching for my arm. I stepped aside.

    “If the elders smell this on you, the engagement is—”

    “The engagement?” I turned to her. The little smirk was well buried. Not well enough. “You’re that concerned about my engagement.”

    “Of course I’m concerned about you!” She pressed a hand to her chest, and her eyes went red on cue. Deondre patted her shoulder.

    I looked at the two of them standing together and was suddenly very tired. Seven years. Or longer. I’d told myself all I had to do was be obedient. Aunt Martha said the ceremony would be set within the week. I had already made my peace with signing the contract.

    Deondre took a step toward me. “Get in the car. Don’t make a scene here.”

    I stepped back.

    His hand closed on air. His face changed. The patience he’d been pretending was finally worn through. “Ember. I said get in the car.”

    “I don’t need your car.”

    “You—”

    I pulled the silver dagger from my sleeve. The blade came up at his throat, the tip still carrying rogue blood. Deondre froze, pupils shrinking. Brandee stepped back twice.

    “Touch me,” I said, “and find out how fast silver works on an officer.”

    He didn’t move. I watched the arrogance crack across his face, one inch at a time, and something underneath it show. Cowardice. I put the dagger away and turned for the highway.

    Blood ran down my leg, leaving dark marks on the gravel with every step. Behind me, the Langley convoy started its engines, tires grinding the shoulder, the sound fading out.

    I walked the highway a long time. By the time the sky went dark, the estate had come up at the end of the road. The iron gate stood open, the gatehouse light on. I stood on the gravel and looked at the familiar door.

    The crescent birthmark above my collarbone burned, once. Faint, like a fingertip brushing it.

    I pressed my hand over it and looked back. The highway was empty. Nothing there.

    I pushed the door open and went in. Warm light spilled out of the foyer, mixed with woodsmoke and the kind of quiet that had been held down all day. Everyone was there. My father by the fireplace, Agatha on the sofa, Deondre and Brandee leaning in the archway like two statues waiting for me to come home.

    The door slammed shut behind me.

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  • Rejected by the Prince, Claimed by the Alpha King novel by Yana _ Shadow

    Rejected by the Prince, Claimed by the Alpha King novel by Yana _ Shadow

    👉 READ NOW

    My fiancé, Prince Damian, cast me aside to marry Clarissa for her family’s political backing.

    At their grand royal wedding, I was expected to smile and quietly accept my humiliation.

    Instead, I drank a potent herbal concoction I brewed myself and stumbled into the private chambers of his father, Alpha King Aldric.

    When the Queen and my ex-fiancé finally broke down the heavy oak door, they found me weeping on the floor, my dress torn, holding a silver dagger to my own heart.

    “My honor… it’s ruined,” I sobbed.

    Damian fell to his knees in front of the entire court, begging his father to let him take me as a second mate, completely humiliating his new bride.

    The King roared in fury at the scandal. To “protect” me from his son’s obsession, he decreed I be exiled to Vargan’s Reach, the freezing, barbarian-infested North.

    The Queen smirked, thinking she had finally disposed of me. Damian cried, thinking he had lost his true love forever. The King watched me leave with deep guilt in his eyes, thinking I was a fragile, ruined Omega who almost died from shame.

    But as my carriage rolled out of the capital, I wiped away my fake tears and smiled.

    They didn’t know the North was my family’s loyal stronghold, and I had orchestrated this entire disaster myself.

    My revenge had just begun.

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    Rejected by the Prince, Claimed by the Alpha King Chapter 1

    Seraphina Beaumont POV:
    I leaned against the cold stone of the corridor, the sound of cheers from the banquet hall a physical blow. Damian and his new bride, Clarissa, were accepting the court’s blessings. Each wave of applause felt like a needle pricking my eardrums.
    Clarissa wasn’t content with taking Damian from me—she wanted to destroy me completely.
    Before the ceremony began, she handed me a glass of wine, claiming she sought my blessing. The moment I caught the scent of that drink, I knew something was wrong. But I said nothing. I only pretended to drink it. She had no idea that the blade she handed me would be turned against herself.
    From a hidden pocket in my gown, I pulled a small silver flask, intricately carved with my family’s crest. My fingers trembled from excitement.
    I uncorked the stopper.
    A strange scent, a mix of moonpetal and bitter wormwood, escaped. It was a potent herbal concoction I had spent months brewing, using knowledge from the oldest texts in my family’s library.
    Its purpose wasn’t arousal. It was designed to amplify emotion and sensory input, to make the drinker appear utterly vulnerable, a state of distress so profound it could deceive even the most powerful Alpha.
    An image of Damian’s handsome, treacherous face flashed in my mind. He had sworn I was his only moonlight, yet he cast me aside for the support of the Montgomery family without a second thought.
    I brought the flask to my lips and drank the deep purple liquid in one go.
    The spicy, herbal taste burned my throat. A wave of heat shot through my limbs, and my vision began to blur at the edges. This was it.
    Stumbling, I braced myself against the wall and moved deeper into the corridor. My destination was the royal family’s private wing, where my true target was waiting: Alpha King Aldric.
    I deliberately tore at the hem of my dress, pulling it into disarray. I loosened my silver hair, letting strands cling to my cheeks, which were already flushed from the potion.
    My inner wolf, the white wolf of my bloodline, howled in protest at this self-inflicted weakness. I crushed its dissent with the force of my will. To appear as a helpless Omega was the first step of my plan.
    Finally, I reached a massive oak door carved with the lion and wolf of the Carlisle royal crest. I knew the King was inside.
    I didn’t knock.
    Instead, I threw my body against the door with all the feigned weakness I could muster. The dull thud was followed by the sound of my body sliding to the floor.
    Silence.
    The lack of response from within made my heart skip a beat. This was an unexpected obstacle.
    Gritting my teeth, I raised a hand and slapped it weakly against the wood, letting out a soft whimper that was a perfect blend of pain and confusion.
    The door clicked open.
    A pair of black, military-style boots entered my blurry field of vision.
    My eyes traveled up the long, powerful legs to the towering figure that now loomed over me, casting me in shadow.
    He was Alpha King Aldric Carlisle, a living legend, the ruler of our kingdom with Lycan blood in his veins.
    I forced my potion-widened eyes to focus, my violet pupils reflecting his face. His eyes were the color of ice-gray steel, and just as cold.
    “Who are you?” he asked. His voice was a low, chilling rumble, like ice cracking over a deep lake.
    I opened my mouth, but only a broken gasp escaped. My body began to tremble, a perfect performance of a weak Omega overwhelmed by a dominant Alpha’s presence.
    His scent, a powerful and mix of cedar and obsidian, flooded my senses, making my feigned reaction feel terrifyingly real.
    I tried to scramble to my feet, but my legs felt like water. I collapsed back onto the cold floor, tears welling in my eyes.
    A flicker of annoyance crossed Aldric’s brow. He was already losing patience with this intrusion.
    Just as I thought he would call the guards to drag me away, I took my final chance. I reached out a trembling hand and grasped the hem of his trousers.
    “Help… me…” I forced out the words, my voice raspy and desperate.
    His gaze sharpened, boring into me as if trying to see my soul. He crouched down, his powerful Alpha pheromones washing over me like a tidal wave.
    He didn’t help me up.
    Instead, he grabbed my arm, his grip rough and devoid of pity, and hauled me to my feet.
    My body slammed against his chest. It was like hitting a wall of solid muscle, and the impact made my head spin.
    He bent his head, his cold nose almost touching the side of my neck, the most vulnerable spot for a wolf. He was scenting me.
    I could feel the exact moment his body went rigid. He must have smelled it—the scent I had created. The pure lily of my natural scent, now mixed with the overwhelming stench of an Omega’s terror, all thanks to the herbs.
    I closed my eyes, a single tear finally escaping and tracing a path down my cheek. I let my body go limp in his arms, giving up the “fight.”
    The instant I collapsed, his arm tightened around me, a purely instinctual move to keep me from falling. That subconscious, protective gesture told me everything.
    My first step was a success.
    He swept me up into his arms, his stride long and powerful as he carried me back into the room. The door slammed shut behind us, kicked closed by his heel.
    I was not placed gently on a bed. I was tossed onto the plush rug in the center of the room.
    He stood over me, his expression unreadable as he studied me like a hunter examining its captured prey.
    I knew I was getting closer to victory, but my face was still a mask of carefully crafted fear.
    He moved closer, his shadow swallowing me whole. “Tell me,” his voice was laced with unquestionable authority, “who sent you?”

    Rejected by the Prince, Claimed by the Alpha King Chapter 2

    Genevieve Montgomery POV:
    I held my crystal goblet with practiced elegance, a perfect smile fixed on my face as I accepted congratulations from the visiting Pack Alphas. I was the Luna Queen, and I played my part flawlessly.
    Across the grand hall, my son, Damian, the heir to the kingdom, stood with his new bride, Clarissa. They were about to receive the Elder’s blessing.
    Clarissa was my niece, and this union would solidify our Montgomery family’s position at the heart of the kingdom. It was a masterpiece of political maneuvering.
    My gaze swept the assembled guests, searching for a flash of silver hair. Seraphina Beaumont. She was absent.
    A sliver of unease worked its way into my heart. The Beaumont girl was always impeccably polite. Her absence from an event of this magnitude was highly unusual.
    I caught the eye of my personal handmaiden, Agnes, and gave a subtle nod. She understood immediately and slipped away into the crowd to find out what had happened to Seraphina.
    The ceremony began. The Elder’s deep voice echoed through the hall, but I saw Damian’s eyes dart towards the entrance. He was looking for her.
    I let out a silent, cold scoff. My son was still foolishly obsessed with that woman. It only strengthened my resolve to remove Seraphina Beaumont as a potential problem. Permanently.
    Just as Damian was about to place the ceremonial mating necklace around Clarissa’s neck, a young servant girl burst into the hall, her face pale with panic.
    She was a wolfless, I noted with disdain. No inner wolf, no ability to use the mind-link. She had to deliver her news in the most primitive, disruptive way possible. It was why they were kept to menial tasks, away from important functions.
    Guards moved to intercept her, but she shrieked, “Your Majesty! Something has happened!”
    Every head in the hall turned. The ceremony ground to a halt. A low murmur of whispers spread through the guests like a disease.
    My face hardened into a mask of cold fury. Whatever this was, interrupting the royal wedding ceremony was an unforgivable insult to the crown.
    “Let her pass,” I commanded, my voice like ice. I would deal with this quickly and brutally. “What is so important that you would dare to cause such a scene?”
    The girl, whose name I believed was Daisy, fell to her knees, trembling. “The Sunstone Chamber… Your Majesty, in the King’s own chambers… there are… there are a woman’s cries!”
    My heart stopped. The Sunstone Chamber was Aldric’s private sanctuary. No woman, other than myself, was ever permitted to enter.
    I saw Damian’s face drain of all color. He swayed on his feet, his body trembling as if he’d been struck.
    Clarissa froze, her hand flying to her mouth as she grabbed Damian’s arm for support, her eyes wide with fear.
    “What kind of cries?” I demanded, forcing myself to remain calm, to control the narrative.
    Daisy’s face was now bright red. “C-crying…” she stammered. “And… and begging…”
    The hall exploded.
    The whispers became a roar of speculation. The King, forcing a woman in his private chambers? On the night of his son’s wedding? The scandal was unthinkable. It was a stain on our family, on my son.
    I had to crush this immediately.
    “Nonsense!” I snapped, my voice sharp and cruel. “A wolfless servant girl, spreading vicious lies! Take her away! Cut out her tongue!”
    My order quieted some of the noise, but the faces of the guests were filled with a hungry, vicious curiosity.
    As the guards moved to drag Daisy away, Damian cried out, “Mother! Wait!”
    He rushed to my side, his blue eyes bloodshot with worry. “Seraphina is missing. I’m worried that… what if it’s Seraphina?”
    My heart clenched again. If it was her, this was far more complicated than a simple bit of palace gossip.
    I looked at my son’s panicked face, then at Clarissa, who was on the verge of tears. Fury burned in my chest.
    “Be quiet,” I hissed, my voice low and dangerous. “Do you want everyone here to know you are still pining for that woman? Do you want to turn your own wedding into a joke?”
    Damian fell silent, but the desperate worry in his eyes remained.
    Just then, Agnes reappeared at my side, her face grim. “Your Majesty,” she whispered, “Lady Beaumont is indeed missing. Her maid said she felt unwell and left the feast early.”
    My heart sank into a pit of ice. Seraphina. Aldric. It couldn’t be.
    I had to see for myself. I would not let this scandal destroy everything I had built for my son.
    “The ceremony is paused,” I announced to the stunned crowd. “I will return shortly.”
    Without another word, I gathered my skirts and, with a contingent of my personal guard, swept out of the hall, my path set for the Sunstone Chamber.

    Rejected by the Prince, Claimed by the Alpha King Chapter 3

    Seraphina Beaumont POV:
    I knelt on the rug, the sheer force of the Alpha King’s presence pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe.
    “Who sent you?” Aldric’s voice echoed in the silent room, a command wrapped in cold steel.
    I shook my head, feeling tears blur my vision. “No… no one,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I was… I was lost…”
    The excuse sounded flimsy, but I knew the potion coursing through my veins made my fear, my helplessness, so authentic that it would cloak the lie in a shroud of truth.
    Aldric let out a cold, humorless laugh. “Lost? You got lost and ended up in my private chambers?”
    He crouched down, his fingers gripping my chin, forcing my head up so I had to meet his gaze. “Look at me, little thing. My patience is wearing thin.”
    It was then that I heard it. The muffled sound of footsteps and hushed, angry voices from outside the door. Queen Genevieve. She was faster than I’d anticipated.
    The opportunity had come. I had to make the situation… irreversible… before she came in.
    A spark of calculated madness ignited within me. I wrenched my chin from his grasp and scrambled away, launching myself toward a decorative stone pillar in the corner of the room.
    I never intended to hit it, of course. The gesture was all that mattered—the act of a desperate, honorable maiden choosing death over shame.
    Aldric’s reaction was faster than I could have dreamed. With a low growl, he moved like a black bolt of lightning, closing the distance in a heartbeat.
    His powerful arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me back against his unyielding chest. “You want to die?” he roared, his hot breath fanning across my ear, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.
    This was the moment. I began to struggle violently in his arms, letting out a piercing scream that was a perfect symphony of terror and violation.
    The sound was sharp enough to cut through the thick oak door, a clear message to everyone waiting outside.
    From beyond the door, Genevieve’s voice came, tight with suppressed fury. “Your Majesty! It is I, Genevieve! Open this door!”
    I felt Aldric’s body tense. He clearly hadn’t expected his queen to arrive with an audience.
    I took my cue and cried out louder, my voice filled with pathetic sobs, “Let me go! Please… let me go…”
    My performance made everything before them appear all the more real.
    Aldric’s face was a mask of thunder. He shoved me away from him. “Be quiet!” he snarled.
    Outside, Genevieve, hearing no reply, gave the order, “Break down the door!”
    A flash of pure irritation crossed Aldric’s face. He smoothed his tunic, strode to the door, and wrenched it open.
    There stood the Queen, flanked by her guards. Behind her, a pale and trembling Clarissa. When Clarissa saw me, looking every bit the victim, she gasped and covered her mouth. She had certainly wished to see me like this, but not here.
    Genevieve’s eyes, sharp as daggers, raked over my pathetic form before landing on Aldric. “Aldric,” she said, her voice shaking with rage, “you will give me an explanation!”
    The guards behind her stared at the floor, refusing to witness the high drama unfolding.
    With everyone now present, I seized the moment and spoke weakly, “The wine… I drank a glass of wine and started feeling strange…”
    Before I could even utter Clarissa’s name, she looked like she was about to faint. “No… it wasn’t me… I don’t know…” she stammered, her panicked eyes giving away the lie.
    Genevieve understood at once. Her own foolish niece had orchestrated this disaster.
    The Queen’s body trembled with fury. She forced a semblance of calm and turned back to Aldric. “Your Majesty, this is all a misunderstanding. Clarissa is young and foolish, I will handle…”
    She was trying to frame it as a petty squabble between women, a mess she could clean up by quietly disposing of me.
    But she had misjudged the King. An Alpha King’s pride, especially when his authority was questioned in his own territory, was a dangerous thing.
    Before Genevieve could finish, Aldric cut her off, his voice dropping to a lethal calm. “Enough. All of you, get out.”
    The command stunned everyone into silence, including the Queen.
    After Clarissa tearfully confessed to using a rare herb, the furious Queen slapped her across the face, the sound echoing in the tense hallway. The bond between aunt and niece was visibly fractured.
    Aldric slammed the door shut, plunging the room back into a heavy silence.
    He turned to face me, his ice-gray eyes filled with a complex, unreadable expression.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • The Defiant Omega: Rejecting My Cheating Alpha novel by Mohamed Mohamed

    The Defiant Omega: Rejecting My Cheating Alpha novel by Mohamed Mohamed

    👉 READ NOW

    I woke up from a suffocating void, my twenty-eight years of experience as a top-tier operative merging with the tragic life of a weak Omega named Adeline Cobb.

    Today was supposed to be my sacred Marking ceremony with my fated mate, Alpha Prince Angelo.

    Instead, I woke up paralyzed by a chemical lethargy my wicked stepmother had slipped me, only to find my fiancé bare-chested in my bed, entangled with my illegitimate half-sister, Ainsley.

    When she saw me awake, Ainsley didn’t panic. She just snuggled deeper into his arms with a triumphant, provocative smirk.

    Angelo didn’t even sit up. He looked at me with high-handed contempt.

    “Since you’re awake, just stay quiet. Don’t disturb me.”

    When I called them out on their disgusting betrayal, his face turned furious. He crashed his powerful Alpha pheromones over me to force my submission.

    He even threatened to publicly initiate The Rejection right then and there, aiming to completely destroy my reputation and subject me to the soul-deep agony of a severed mate-bond.

    A man who cheats on his fated mate has no right to invoke the Moon Goddess. I felt the original Adeline’s heartbreak, but beneath it burned the absolute, cold hatred of my past life.

    How dare a prince with no honor and a shameless bastard think they could step all over me?

    They expected me to cry, to beg, to have a hysterical breakdown.

    Instead, I looked at him with icy detachment.

    “This rejection will happen. But it will be me who initiates it.”

    After fighting my way out of the manor and extorting my late mother’s massive dowry back from my abusive father, I returned to the Prince’s estate.

    This time, I’m going to make him the first Alpha in history to be publicly dumped by his Omega, and I will take back everything that belongs to me.

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    The Defiant Omega: Rejecting My Cheating Alpha Chapter 1

    Adeline Cobb POV:
    “Oh, sister, you’re awake,” a voice said, so sweet it was sickening. “You look so pale. Are you unwell?”
    My sister Aisili, disheveled, leaned against my fiancé, Prince Angelo Hamilton. Seeing me awake, she actually added provocation to her eyes and, without a care for anyone else, kissed the completely naked man still in his beast-eared state.
    I forced my eyes open and realized I had been drugged with something that made me groggy. What met my eyes was the dim light of the bedroom and layer upon layer of gauze curtains.
    Then, previous memories surged crazily into my mind. I saw myself drugged by my stepmother Lady Ginny, saw myself full of heart and hope, putting on the expensive white wedding dress, wanting to marry my fated mate, the Alpha Prince. I imagined marriage would be my salvation, helping me escape the shackles of the Wallace family, and from then on, the sky would be high and the sea wide, and we would stay together until our hair turned white, never apart. But it was all false.
    On the wedding night, my fiancé had sex with my sister. This was supposed to be the wedding bed belonging to me and Angelo, but now I could only watch as Angelo cheated and betrayed me. The primal, soul-deep pain of the violated mate bond tore me apart. The dream that had begun in my girlhood shattered. As much as I had once wanted to marry him, that was how much I now hated him.
    I let out a mocking snort. What a pair of shameless lovers. Mother was absolutely right. Not a single man is reliable. I remembered her words before she died: “Before you are strong enough, you must endure and lie low. Don’t let others know who you are.”
    Since childhood, I had received secret training from my mother: combat, tactics, weapon design, herbology. Before she died, my mother passed on to me all her lifelong knowledge and the secrets of the family legacy. Over the years, I had tried my best to disguise myself as a weak omega. I knew that once I was exposed, being eliminated by my father and stepmother was only a matter of time. A marriage with the royal family was unreliable. In the end, I still had to rely on myself.
    Angelo finally moved his gaze away from Aisili. His amber eyes, when they met mine, held no guilt at all. There was only the displeasure of being interrupted and a kind of arrogant contempt.
    In the air, the pheromones of the three of us intertwined: lily, wood, and that nauseating peach blossom scent.
    Angelo lazily draped an outer robe over himself, released the oppressive aura belonging to an Alpha, leaned lazily against the headboard, and put away his beast ears. “Since you’re awake, stay quiet and don’t disturb my fun.”
    I forced myself to stay conscious. Out of habit I wanted to find a knife to defend myself, and I subconsciously touched the callus on the web of my hand. Realizing I was still wearing a wedding dress and had no handy tool, I pinched my palm hard until it bled, forcing myself to stay calm. I coldly shifted my gaze to them, like a predator observing two stupid, trapped prey, unwavering.
    My silence made them uneasy. Aisili’s smile froze. Angelo’s brows furrowed slightly.
    “Disturb?” I finally spoke. My voice was hoarse from the drug, but every word was like a shard of ice. “I think you’ve made a mistake.”
    My gaze swept over them. Thinking of how their bodies had been tangled together earlier, my disgust almost solidified in the air. “This room was prepared for my marking ceremony. This bed is mine. This man… was once mine.”
    I paused, watching the color drain from Aisili’s face. “But I’ve never been very interested in used things. Especially not this kind of secondhand goods.”
    Angelo’s face flushed dark red, furious. His powerful Alpha pheromones were no longer simply released but came straight at me, trying to force me to submit. “Adeline! Watch your tone!”
    I ignored that pressure. Years of secret training had made me nearly immune to such oppressive force. I turned my gaze to Aisili. “And you, my dear sister.”
    I said each word slowly and deliberately. “A bastard daughter who doesn’t even have the right to appear at court actually climbed into the prince’s bed through such means. And you’re not even my stepmother’s child—you’re just the illegitimate daughter of my ‘good father’ and his mistress. Not a drop of legitimate blood in you. No family behind you. Nothing. And you think this is a victory?”
    “You…” Aisili trembled with rage, tears instantly welling up in her eyes. She turned to Angelo and used her usual “damsel in distress” act. “Your Highness, look at her… Sister is really speaking so unpleasantly today…”
    But I didn’t give her more time to perform. I propped up my weak body and swung my legs off the bed.
    Step by step, I walked slowly toward them. Each step was like a heavy hammer striking at their fragile dignity.
    I stopped beside the bed and looked down at them. “A prince without honor, and a bastard daughter without shame. The two of you are truly a match made in heaven.”
    I smoothed the wrinkles on my wedding dress and announced the final verdict in a flat voice. “I have no interest in taking part in this farce. Please continue.”
    Aisili’s eyes rolled upward, so angry she looked as if she might faint at any moment.
    Actually, when I walked over, I had wanted to kick each of them once, but unfortunately I didn’t have much strength left and could only say harsh words. I realized that I first had to reclaim my rightful status as heir, plan step by step, and only then could I truly complete my revenge. Since we had already torn off all pretense, there was no need for me to keep pretending.
    For the first time, a flicker of shock, even panic, crossed Angelo’s face. He had clearly expected tears, pleas, hysteria, not this cold, detached indifference.
    Aisili lunged at me, trying to grab my hair. I couldn’t even be bothered to lift my foot. I just dodged lightly to the side and watched as my sister, who had thrown herself straight off the bed, fell flat on her back with her limbs sprawled.
    I didn’t look at them again. I turned and walked toward the door, my back straight and my head held high.
    My hand had just touched the cold bronze handle of the door. The wolf head carved on the beast-shaped ornament was lifelike.
    Angelo’s furious voice roared from behind me, echoing through the luxurious palace chamber.
    “Adeline Cobb! If you walk out that door, I will reject you publicly this instant and turn you into a disgrace to the kingdom!”
    I didn’t look back. I paused for only a moment and responded with one final, contemptuous scoff.
    “Suit yourself.”
    Then, without hesitation, I pulled the door open, walked out, and shut it tightly behind me, leaving the filth, shock, and fury shut inside.

    The Defiant Omega: Rejecting My Cheating Alpha Chapter 2

    Adeline Cobb POV:
    I walked into the corridor, the wedding gown dragging across the cold stone floor, heavy and pure white, far too conspicuous in a palace full of guards.
    I had to get rid of this dress.
    I slipped into a servant’s alcove tucked between two marble pillars. After a moment of fumbling, the buttons finally gave way, my fingers still clumsy from the drug, and the gown slid from my shoulders, pooling at my feet. I changed into the simple riding clothes hanging nearby: a dark grey set that would let me move freely. My hand brushed against something cold in the pocket, a silver needle, thin and sharp. It was already there, tucked into the riding coat. I had no idea who left it, and I didn’t care. Now it was the only weapon I had.
    I quickened my pace, counting guard posts and memorizing exits. The palace sprawled like a maze, but I knew every corner. I had spent months here, preparing for a wedding that had become a joke, memorizing the layout in my idle hours. My legs remained weak, but I could still move. I pressed my palm against the wall for a moment, steadying myself, biting the inside of my cheek until I tasted the metallic tang of blood. The pain sharpened my mind.
    Then I heard running footsteps.
    “Adeline Cobb!”
    A hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. My back slammed into the cold stone wall, his body boxing me in, one forearm pressed against the marble beside my head. Angelo had only managed to throw on the dark silk robe from before, hastily, the front still hanging open, revealing his bare chest and the traces of the night’s debauchery.
    His amber eyes burned with fury. His Alpha pheromones crashed over me like a tidal wave, the kind of force that would make any normal Omega’s knees buckle and head bow in submission.
    My knees trembled. The drug made it worse, a dull ache spreading through my legs. But I looked up at him, my face a mask of ice.
    “I told you to stop. You can’t leave,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
    “I heard you,” I said flatly. “I just don’t care.”
    Something flickered in his eyes, shock, confusion, a crack in his certainty. Perhaps he had expected the timid, obedient Adeline of the past, the one who let him push her around. He simply couldn’t understand why the Adeline from before had changed.
    Then hurried footsteps came from the end of the corridor. Ainsley stumbled into view, her hair a tangled mess, her silk robe slipping off one shoulder, breathless, her cheeks flushed.
    “Your Highness!” she gasped, rushing to Angelo’s side. “Sister, please don’t do this. You’re only making things worse for yourself.”
    “Shut up,” I said, my gaze slicing toward her like a blade. “Does a mistress have the right to speak here?”
    Ainsley flinched, pressing herself against Angelo like a wounded animal.
    Angelo’s grip on my wrist tightened, almost enough to crush bone. “Adeline Cobb! Who do you think you are? You’re just an Omega your family sent to me! I give you face, and only then are you a prince’s fiancée!”
    I laughed. A dry, humorless sound. “So, I should thank you for the ‘face’ you’ve given me by performing a live show with my dear sister on my bed?”
    His face flushed an ugly, deep red. He gritted his teeth. “Don’t you forget, we are mates designated by the Moon Goddess! To disrespect me is to defy the will of the Goddess herself!”
    A cold sneer formed in my mind. A man who betrays his own mate has no right to invoke the name of the Goddess. In this world, the mate bond was sacred, and betraying it was the gravest of sins.
    “Respect is earned, Your Highness,” I said calmly. “The moment you decided to let another woman into your bed, you forfeited your right to my respect.”
    Angelo was speechless, choked by my audacity. He had expected the timid, obedient Adeline of the past, not this stranger who dared to speak treason.
    He took a deep breath, a cruel smile twisting his lips as he played his trump card. “Fine. You want to leave? Do you believe that I can, right here, right now, initiate The Rejection in front of everyone?”
    The Rejection. The formal, public severing of a mate bond. It was an act that inflicted immense spiritual and mental pain, a profound humiliation, especially for the one being rejected.
    At the mention of it, Ainsley’s eyes lit up with feverish excitement. This was the outcome she had dreamed of.
    Angelo watched my face, savoring what he believed was my impending breakdown. He was waiting for my fear, for my begging.
    But I just looked at him, my expression unreadable. Then, slowly and clearly, I uttered a single word.
    “Okay.”
    His smile froze. “What did you say?”
    Ainsley’s expression hardened into disbelief.
    “I said, okay,” I repeated, my voice steady. “Initiate the rejection now. I’ll accept it immediately. It will save us both a lot of time.”
    I even took a step closer to him, my presence a challenge. “Go on, Your Highness. Let’s see if you truly have the courage to reject your fated mate on your Marking night, all because you were caught in the act of cheating.”
    I pressed my advantage. “When this story gets out, what will they say about you? A prince who can’t even control his own lust? Or a petty man who throws a tantrum after being caught by his mate?”
    Angelo’s face cycled through shades of red, white, and a sickly green. He knew he couldn’t do it. It would be the biggest scandal of his political career, a permanent stain on his reputation.
    He glared at me, his eyes promising murder, but he was trapped. I had him cornered.
    Ainsley, seeing the tables turn, rushed to his side, tugging at his arm. “Your Highness, let it go. Sister is just speaking out of anger. Let’s not stoop to her level.”
    I wrenched my wrist from Angelo’s grasp. This time, with his mind in turmoil, I succeeded.
    I took a step back, putting space between us. “I am not speaking out of anger.”
    I held his gaze for a long, silent moment. The air between us crackled with unspoken war.
    My gaze swept over them both, finally landing on his stunned face. My voice was as cold and hard as diamond. “Listen closely, Alpha Angelo Hamilton.”
    “This rejection, this divorce… it is inevitable.”
    “But the one who initiates it will be me, Adeline Cobb.”
    The last shred of color drained from his face.
    “I will make you the first Alpha prince in the history of this kingdom to be publicly rejected by his own Omega mate.”
    Without giving them a moment to process my words, I turned and strode down the long, empty corridor.
    “Remember, don’t follow me again. You two are annoying.” I glanced back one last time.

    The Defiant Omega: Rejecting My Cheating Alpha Chapter 3

    Adeline Cobb POV:
    I was almost at the main gates of the palace when I heard the sound I least wanted to hear.
    Running footsteps. Again.
    I didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was. The sickening scent of peach blossom reached me before she did.
    “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered under my breath. “You again? Do you have nothing better to do than chase me around like a lost puppy?”
    I turned slowly, my expression a mixture of annoyance and utter contempt.
    Ainsley stood there, flanked by two tall guards, her hair still a mess, her silk robe hastily rearranged. The mask of gentleness was gone, replaced by a face twisted with venom and triumph.
    “Sister,” she said, her voice dripping with fake concern. “The Prince told you to stay. Where do you think you’re going?”
    “Out,” I said flatly. “Somewhere you’re not. Get out of my way.”
    “His Highness is furious right now. Running around like this will only make him angrier,” Ainsley said, her false sincerity grating on my nerves. “As your sister, I can’t watch you make such a mistake. Please, come back to the room and calm down.”
    I stared at her for a long moment. Then I let out a short, sharp laugh.
    “You can’t watch me make a mistake?” I repeated, my voice dripping with disbelief. “You spread your legs for my fiancé on my wedding night, and now you’re pretending to care about my well-being? That’s rich.”
    Color flooded her cheeks, but she recovered quickly. She gave a subtle nod to the guards. They stepped forward, flanking me, their sheer size a silent threat.
    I glanced at them. They were the Prince’s personal guards, Gamma-level warriors. A drugged Omega would normally be helpless against them.
    But I wasn’t a normal Omega.
    Years of secret training from my mother had taught me one thing: size didn’t matter. Angles, momentum, and precision did. These Gamma guards were used to overwhelming opponents with raw strength. They weren’t used to someone who knew exactly where to strike.
    Ainsley’s smirk widened, mistaking my silence for fear. “Be a good girl, sister. Come back with me. Maybe His Highness will even find it in his heart to forgive you.”
    I laughed. A sharp, cold sound. “Ainsley, do you know what your biggest problem is?”
    She blinked, caught off guard.
    “You fail to recognize your own station,” I said slowly. “You think you can speak for the Prince, but what are you? You’re nothing.”
    I stepped closer, lowering my voice to a venomous whisper only she could hear. “You are a bastard, Ainsley Wallace. A whelp who was only granted a surname out of my mother’s pity.”
    The blood drained from her face. It was her deepest, most shameful secret. While many knew, no one had ever dared to say it to her face.
    “You!” she shrieked, her facade shattering completely. “Seize her! Drag her back to the room!”
    The two guards reached for me.
    I didn’t wait for them to touch me. My hand slipped into the pocket of my riding coat and closed around a thin, cold object. A silver needle. Standard operative issue. I had palmed it the moment I changed out of the wedding gown.
    The first guard lunged for my arm. I dropped low, pivoting on my heel, driving my elbow into his solar plexus with every ounce of force I had. He folded like a piece of paper, gasping for air.
    The second guard barely had time to react. I stepped into his reach, grabbed the front of his tunic, and slammed my forehead into the bridge of his nose. Cartilage crunched under the impact. He staggered back, blood spurting down his face.
    Ainsley’s eyes went wide. Her jaw dropped. She had expected a helpless Omega, not a woman who moved like a predator.
    I didn’t give her time to scream. I closed the distance between us in two strides and slashed the silver needle across her cheek.
    She never saw it coming. A short, sharp scream was all she could manage.
    The needle carved a thin, red line across her skin. It wasn’t deep, but it was enough. It would scar.
    Pain and shock made her stagger back, her hand flying to her wounded face.
    “One more word,” I said, my voice quiet and lethal, “and the next one goes into your eye.”
    She clamped her mouth shut, trembling.
    I turned and walked toward the gate, my back straight, my steps steady.
    Behind me, I heard Ainsley’s enraged, tear-filled scream. “Get her! Don’t let her escape!”
    The guards were in no shape to chase anyone. I didn’t bother looking back.
    But I could hear them stumbling to their feet, regaining their balance, and coming after me. Their footsteps pounded against the stone floor, and I knew I was running out of time.
    I pushed through the palace gates and into the corridor beyond. The drug was still a weight in my veins, my legs threatening to buckle with every step. I couldn’t outrun them in this state.
    Then I saw it. A decorative suit of armor standing in an alcove, gleaming in the dim light.
    I threw my shoulder against it with every last ounce of strength I had.
    With a deafening crash, the heavy metal suit toppled over, blocking the narrow corridor. Plates of steel scattered across the floor, creating a wall of tangled metal that would take the guards precious seconds to climb over.
    I glanced back. The guards stumbled into the debris, cursing as they fought through the mess. In the distance, Ainsley stood clutching her face, her eyes filled with pure hatred.
    I mouthed two words at her.
    “Idiot.”
    Then I turned and disappeared into the shadows of the garden. I had to get to a place Angelo would never think to look.
    Before leaving the grounds of the Prince’s palace completely, I cast one last look at the brightly lit building. A single thought burned in my mind: Angelo. Ainsley. We’ll meet again soon. And next time, I’ll take back everything that belongs to me.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • His Defiant Omega: The Cursed King’s Second Chance novel by Lively

    His Defiant Omega: The Cursed King's Second Chance novel by Lively

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    I trusted my fiancé, the Alpha of our Pack, and my sweet stepsister with my life.

    But when Rogue wolves surrounded me and my three-year-old daughter in the woods, my fiancé emerged not to save us, but holding my stepsister’s hand.

    He coldly declared my Omega blood was too weak to be his Luna.

    Worse, he revealed they had drugged me years ago to ruin my reputation, claiming my daughter wasn’t even his.

    Then, my stepsister smiled a triumphant smile and shot an arrow straight through my little girl’s chest.

    “Shut up, you little mongrel,” she sneered as my baby’s body went limp.

    As I held my daughter’s cooling body, my fiancé plunged a silver dagger into my heart.

    He laughed, boasting about how they had lured me here to draw my parents’ guards away, and how they would take over my family’s Pack once I was dead.

    My entire life was a cruel lie.

    The two people I loved most had orchestrated my ruin and murdered my innocent child just for power.

    I cursed them to the moon with my dying breath, swearing to tear them to shreds.

    Opening my eyes again, I was back in the past, right before my family was supposed to send me off to an arranged marriage.

    This time, I won’t play the weak Omega.

    I will gladly accept my fated mate, the terrifying Alpha King, and use him as my sword to make my betrayers pay in blood.

    👉 READ NOW

    His Defiant Omega: The Cursed King’s Second Chance Chapter 1

    Alyssa POV:
    I held my three-year-old daughter Hope against my chest, so tight I thought my arms would break. Her small body shook, pressed with me behind the trunk of an oak so wide two men couldn’t wrap it.
    The forest reeked of Rogue wolves. Their eyes, dozens of them, glowed gold in the twilight like a ring of fire closing in.
    “Mommy,” Hope whispered, her golden curls matted with mud, “is Daddy coming to save us?”
    Darrion. My fiancé. The Alpha of the Lott Pack. A spark of warmth caught in the ice of my chest.
    “He’ll come,” I told her, and I believed it with every scarred inch of my heart. “Daddy always comes.”
    Footsteps. Darrion’s tall frame broke through the ring of Rogues. The relief hit me so hard I almost sobbed.
    Then I saw who walked beside him.
    Corliss. My stepsister. In a white dress so spotless it was a slap against the mud and blood of the woods. A smile played on her red lips.
    The alarm that shrieked through me was animal, primal. Wrong. This is all wrong.
    Darrion raised one hand. The Rogues—the ones I thought were our enemy—bowed their heads and parted like a sea, clearing a path straight to me.
    He walked toward me. His eyes, once soft with adoration, were now two chips of ice. He looked at me the way a man looks at a stain he’s about to scrub out.
    “Alyssa,” he said. Flat. “Give me the child.”
    The world tilted sideways. “Darrion, what—these wolves—you brought them?”
    Corliss slid up beside him, winding her arm through his, pressing against him with an intimacy that made my stomach turn. “Oh, my dear sister,” she cooed. “Still so naive.”
    My brain shorted out. Them. Together. My fiancé and my sister.
    Hope began to cry, her tiny fists twisting in my dress. “Mommy, I’m scared…”
    Corliss looked down at Hope and her face twisted with a jealousy so poisonous it was almost a physical thing. “Shut up, you little mongrel.”
    And then Darrion said the words that ended my world.
    “I’ve had enough of you, Alyssa. Your weak Omega blood was never fit to be my Luna.”
    My whole life cracked down the middle. “And this child,” he went on, “she isn’t even mine. Did you truly think I never knew about your little indiscretion?”
    Hope… wasn’t his? Then that night… who…
    Corliss leaned in, savoring it. “We checked. You were drugged that night, you have no idea whose bed you were in. Darrion only claimed the brat to save the Lott Pack’s face—swallowing his disgust the whole time.”
    I clutched Hope. The ground spun. My entire life was a stage built by the two people I trusted most, and I had played the fool on it for years.
    “Why?” The scream tore out of me. “My parents—the Alpha and Luna of the Clay Pack—they’ll tear you apart for this!”
    Darrion and Corliss traded a look of pure mockery. “Them?” Corliss said. “They have their own problems tonight. We led you here precisely to draw their guards away.”
    A Rogue pressed a dagger into Darrion’s hand. It glinted with a sickly white light.
    Silver. Fatal to our kind.
    Darrion stalked toward me. “Once you’re dead, the Clay Pack falls into chaos. And then… everything becomes mine.”
    I scrabbled backward until my spine slammed the oak. Nowhere left to run.
    I looked down at Hope’s terrified blue eyes—my eyes. No. I could not let her die.
    I shoved her behind me, shielding her with my own body. “Please, Darrion! Let her go! She’s only a child!”
    His eyes held nothing. He lunged. The silver blade buried itself in my stomach.
    Pain, blinding white, ripped through me. My life force drained like sand through fingers, but I refused to fall. I kept my eyes locked on his.
    Then a second hiss sliced the air behind me. An arrow. Not aimed at me.
    Aimed at Hope.
    I couldn’t even turn. I heard a tiny, choked gasp—and her little body went limp in my arms.
    I looked down. The shaft stood out of her chest, the fletching a cruel splash of color against her little dress. Blood soaked through, warm, and then cold.
    At the edge of the clearing, Corliss lowered a bow, her face a grotesque mask of victory.
    Time stopped. My soul ripped into a million pieces as I held my daughter’s cooling body.
    I lifted my face to the moon and spent my last breath on a curse.
    “I, Alyssa Clay, swear upon the moon! If I am given another life, I will hunt you down—Darrion Lott, Corliss Ramsey! I will tear you to shreds and make sure your souls never, ever find peace!”
    Enraged, Darrion wrenched the dagger from my stomach and drove it into my heart.
    Darkness swallowed me. And in the last flicker of consciousness, I heard it—a sigh, ancient and sorrowful, a woman’s voice from the void itself.
    “Poor child. I will give you another chance. Use it well.”

    His Defiant Omega: The Cursed King’s Second Chance Chapter 2

    Constantine POV:
    I stood at the edge of my territory, one hand resting on the silver head of my cane. The evening wind carried the scent of the neighboring Clay Pack—and something else, faint, that made my blood hum.
    A dull ache throbbed in my leg, a permanent reminder of the cowards who’d ambushed me with silver and left me the “crippled Alpha King” of every whispered joke in the werewolf world.
    My Beta, Nash, waited two paces behind me. He knew better than to speak when I was in this mood.
    Then the scent hit me.
    Jasmine in full bloom, tangled with rain on fresh grass. Sweet. And mine.
    My inner wolf lunged against the cage of my control, a roar rolling through my chest. Hers! Ours!
    Mate.
    The word landed like a curse. Was the Moon Goddess mocking me? Granting a broken, silver-poisoned Alpha his fated partner at the edge of his own land?
    I crushed the wolf’s excitement under cold logic. “Nash,” I said, “go see what’s trespassing.”
    He returned fast, his face strange. “Alpha… it’s a girl. I think it’s Miss Alyssa Clay.”
    Alyssa Clay. The Omega everyone said I was meant to marry in some political farce. I frowned and moved toward him.
    She lay in the moonlight, blonde hair fanned on the grass. She was soaked in blood—but it looked old, phantom, like a stain that had soaked through another life.
    Then she jackknifed upright, gasping, blue eyes blown wide with terror. “No… don’t kill me… Hope…”
    Another performance. I snorted coldly. So she’d resort to this—a damsel act to wriggle out of a betrothal to a cripple? How tedious.
    My wolf howled in my skull, screaming at me to gather her up, to shield her, to kill whatever had frightened her. I strangled the instinct with ice. I did not show weakness to a woman who could be a spy.
    I closed the distance and loomed over her. “Alyssa Clay,” I said, voice dripping. “Your performance is clumsy.”
    She didn’t seem to hear me. Her hands flew to her face, her neck, her stomach. No wounds. Her body was whole.
    And then the terror in her eyes cracked open and poured out something else—a wild, disbelieving joy.
    “I’m alive… I’m really alive!” Tears of happiness streaked her face. She ignored me entirely.
    The feeling of being dismissed burned. I, the Alpha King of the Blackwood Pack, ignored by an Omega.
    I seized her chin and forced her face up. “Look at me, Omega. Do you think playing games on my land will free you from your fate?”
    Her skin was silk. The contact sent a jolt of fire up my arm. My wolf purred in satisfaction. Damn it all.
    I snatched my hand back as if burned.
    Alyssa finally focused on me. And the look she gave me was not fear. It was appraisal. Cool. Knowing. As if she could see straight through to a wound I kept hidden from the entire world.
    Her gaze slid to my cane, then to my stiff leg.
    My jaw locked. I hated that. It was the mark of my shame, carved into my pride.
    But there was no mockery in her eyes. No pity. Only something I couldn’t name.
    She rose, swaying once before she steadied. Then she looked into my eyes, and it was like stars igniting in her blue irises.
    “Constantine Witt,” she said, tasting my name like it already belonged to her.
    The sound of it in her mouth did something to my chest.
    She took a slow breath, as if deciding the rest of her life.
    She did not cry. She did not beg. She did not simper.
    She simply watched me, as if confirming a truth only she could see.
    And through the invisible thread of the mate-bond, I felt her. Steady as a blade. And already mine.

    His Defiant Omega: The Cursed King’s Second Chance Chapter 3

    Alyssa POV:
    Constantine Witt. The Alpha King of the Blackwood Pack. Taller than the rumors, and a hundred times more dangerous.
    His dark gray eyes were a storm front. The cane in his grip didn’t shrink him—it sharpened him, adding a layer of coiled violence to the air.
    And I felt it, pulling from the deepest part of my soul. Cedar and winter wind. My Mate.
    Fate was a cruel comedian. In my last life I was murdered on the eve of being delivered to this man.
    But I was not that naive girl anymore. I had died once. I knew—because I had heard the stories, lived through the aftermath—that this man, for all his ferocity, was the only one who could protect me. The only sword sharp enough to help me take my revenge.
    His coldness and mockery were nothing but the growl of a wounded beast. I knew his weakness. I was born to be his cure.
    I crushed my grief and hatred into a single, burning point. My goal was simple: secure him.
    I straightened my spine and met his gaze head-on. For an Omega to meet an Alpha’s eyes was a challenge. I no longer cared for such rules.
    A flicker of surprise crossed his face before the ice closed over it again.
    “Constantine Witt,” I said, clear and firm. “I know I am your fated Mate.”
    Behind him, his Beta—Nash Mills, if memory served—sucked in a sharp breath.
    Constantine’s lips pressed thin. He didn’t confirm. He didn’t deny.
    I stepped forward, closing the space until I could smell the cedar and, beneath it, a burning desire he was trying very hard to hide.
    I tilted my head back, looked him dead in the eye, and said each word like an oath.
    “I, Alyssa Clay, accept this bond. I accept you, Constantine Witt, as my one and only Alpha, my Mate.”
    The words dropped into the silence like a stone into still water. Nash’s jaw nearly hit the forest floor.
    Constantine’s pupils constricted. He had not expected this. Not the directness. Not the initiative.
    The knuckles on his cane went white. He was fighting it.
    His wolf was celebrating. His mind was resisting. The war twisted his handsome face.
    “Are you insane?” he ground out. “Do you know what you’re saying? Do you know who I am? A cripple whose temper is as broken as his ability to shift—or so the rumors go.”
    He hurled the words like stones, testing me, mocking himself.
    I did not flinch. I took another step, so close my body nearly brushed his chest. “I know,” I said softly. “But I also know you are my Mate. And that is enough.”
    I reached out, slow and deliberate, and laid my fingers over the back of his hand where it gripped the cane.
    Lightning. It arced between us, and we both shuddered.
    His wolf let out a satisfied rumble I could almost hear through our half-formed bond. Ours! Finally!
    Constantine tore his hand away—but his eyes betrayed him. Shock. Conflict. And a flame I had just lit.
    I smiled, faint. My first objective was complete. The seed was planted.
    He stared at me for a long, hard moment, as if trying to see the shape of my soul.
    “You’re bold, Omega,” he said at last.
    “I just know what I want,” I answered.
    Revenge. And a new life. With him.
    He gave a cold snort and turned. “Nash. Bring her. It seems the Clay Pack has sent me an interesting toy.”
    A front. He had agreed.
    Nash made a respectful “this way” gesture, awe and curiosity warring in his eyes.
    I followed Constantine’s back. Straight. Proud. Even leaning on the cane.
    My Alpha King. This time, our fates are bound. You will be my sword, and I will be your cure.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • When The Alpha Chooses A Human novel by IlianaH

    When The Alpha Chooses A Human novel by IlianaH

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    Maya left her hometown with her grandmother, leaving behind her first love and the only life she’d ever known. Before long, she sensed that this new place hided a dark and unsettling secret-a pack of werewolves.

    Upon her arrival, she met Isla, a bubbly and welcoming neighbor, as well as Blake, Isla’s brother-a young man who was arrogant, unpredictable, and inexplicably magnetic to her.

    Her life took a dramatic turn when she was chosen by Blake, who turned out to be an Alpha.

    Their bond was instant but fragile. Despite her love for him, Maya questioned her place by his side-especially in the face of the pack’s dismissive attitude toward her, all because she was just an ordinary human.

    Would she be able to fight her way into the world of werewolves, or would she end up heartbroken?

    👉 READ NOW

    When The Alpha Chooses A Human novel Chapter 1

    I was already mourning what I was about to lose. The endless sunsets, the hot, heavy nights, the sand just steps from our front door.

    All of it was fading before my eyes as I stood chewing the inside of my cheek, staring at the sign hammered into the lawn. One word, printed in bold red: SOLD.

    Florida was the only place I’d ever known, my only anchor.

    Since the day I was born, it had just been my grandma and me.

    My mother died in childbirth, and my father… I knew nothing about him. His name, his face, his very existence—they were just blank spaces in my story. We never talked about him.

    “Still staring at that sign, I see,” my grandma said, coming up beside me.

    In a few hours, this chapter of our lives would be over. We were leaving everything behind for Texas.

    She assured me it was for the best, that the change would do us good. But I had no desire to start over somewhere I didn’t know.

    I had my friends here. And I had Tommy.

    At eighteen, my life wasn’t perfect, but it was mine, and it fit. School was going well. I had a part-time job and a tight group of friends I could always count on.

    I knew she’d heard my protests, but they hadn’t changed a thing. The decision was final.

    “Maya, you’ll meet other people. You’ll make new friends. Maybe even find a new boyfriend. This is necessary, honey. Change is good.”

    Her words slid right off me. I didn’t want new faces, let alone a new boy.

    Tommy was my first love. Sure, he was three years older, but he had these clear blue eyes that could disarm me in a second and a kindness that meant more than anything.

    My grandma, though, had never approved. She always said something about him felt off, that her instincts told her to be wary. But to me, he was different.

    I knew I’d adapt eventually, that I’d meet other people, but that wasn’t what haunted me. What I feared most was severing the invisible thread that still connected me to my mother.

    “She’s here,” I whispered, more to myself than to my grandma.

    “Of course she is,” my grandma said softly, placing a hand over my heart. “Wherever you go, she’s always right here with you.”

    I knew she was right, but this house, these walls, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore—it all made me feel like she was still close.

    “How about we go make some hot cocoa? We could watch the sun disappear together,” she offered.

    “I’ll grab a blanket,” I answered immediately.

    It was our ritual, our special moment: watching the sunset over the ocean. For me, the beach was more than just a view. It was a refuge.

    I kicked off my shoes and spread the blanket over the still-warm sand before sitting down. The sky was streaked with shades of pink and orange, and the steady rhythm of the waves filled my ears.

    A sigh escaped my lips. I knew I would never see this again. There were beaches in Texas, sure, but not this one. Not this light, not this familiar horizon.

    “It’s beautiful,” I murmured.

    “Maya?”

    I jumped. When I turned, I saw Tommy walking toward me. I shot to my feet. He shouldn’t have been here. We’d already said our goodbyes. His presence just made everything harder.

    My eyes instinctively flicked to my grandma. She didn’t like him, and she never tried to hide it.

    “I can’t let you leave like this,” he said, pulling me into his arms. “The thought of never seeing you again… it’s unbearable.”

    Tears pricked my eyes, and I fought to hold them back. I was going to miss him so much. These last few months, we’d been nearly inseparable.

    “You shouldn’t be here,” I whispered against his chest. “This just makes it harder.”

    “I know, I’m sorry,” he replied, his arms tightening around me. “But I love you, Maya. I love you more than anything.”

    A discreet cough cut through the moment. My grandma was coming back.

    “We’ll see each other again, I promise,” he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to my lips before turning and walking away, his figure quickly swallowed by the growing darkness.

    I looked down at my finger. The ring he’d given me shimmered faintly in the twilight. A promise he’d made six months into our relationship. A promise we might not have time to keep.

    A sob shook my entire body.

    “Maya?” my grandma called out.

    “I’m fine,” I answered, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand.

    Thinking about his absence was like a physical ache in my chest, but I had no choice. The move was tomorrow.

    “I need to finish packing.”

    Goodbye, Florida. Hello, Texas.

    …

    We could have taken a direct flight, but no. My grandma wanted to drive, to “make an adventure out of it,” she’d said.

    Twenty hours later, I was utterly exhausted. Between the gas stops and the fast-food meals we’d scarfed down, my legs and back were screaming. All I wanted was a bed.

    “See? Texas isn’t so bad,” she remarked with a smile. “We’re about half an hour out. Go get yourself a coffee.”

    I looked around. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, but it wasn’t home. And I doubted it ever would be.

    As soon as I stepped inside the gas station, I made a beeline for the coffee machine. I couldn’t function without caffeine.

    As I was preparing two steaming cups, the bell over the door chimed. An instantaneous shiver ran down my spine.

    A strange sensation washed over me, a dizzying mix of alarm and excitement. My heart hammered against my ribs, and my palms grew damp.

    I froze. After taking a deep breath, I whirled around.

    No one.

    I remained frozen, my breath caught in my throat. But the feeling lingered: a powerful sense that someone was there.

    Maybe the exhaustion was just playing tricks on me. Sighing, I snapped the lids onto the cups and headed for the register.

    “Large or regular?” the cashier asked with a bright smile.

    I forced a smile in return. “Regular. And… this, too.”

    I grabbed a bag of candy and tore it open immediately, unable to resist.

    “Sorry. I have a serious sugar craving,” I said with an awkward little laugh, handing over the cash.

    “No worries. I’m Isla, by the way.”

    “Maya,” I replied, taking my change.

    “You new here?”

    I bit my lip. “Is it that obvious?”

    She nodded, a look of amusement on her face. “You have the look of a city girl.”

    “Florida,” I said simply.

    Just then, the sensation returned, ten times stronger. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. A wave of heat washed over me, far too intense for the air-conditioned store. A dull restlessness thrummed under my skin. The feeling of being watched became oppressive, suffocating. Maybe I was coming down with something.

    “You’ll see, you’ll like it here,” Isla said with a wink. “You’ll fit right in.”

    I just shrugged. Maybe she was right.

    But deep down, I already knew something was wrong. I’d felt that strangeness from the moment I walked through the door.

    I bit into a piece of candy and shook my head, trying to clear it. “I don’t know how you eat that stuff and don’t get cavities,” she said, laughing.

    I smiled, but inside, a quiet dread had taken root and refused to let go.

    When The Alpha Chooses A Human novel Chapter 2

    I snapped the car door shut, a smile tugging at my lips.

    My grandmother knew my weakness for sugar all too well; it was a running joke between us.

    As I handed her the coffee cup, I gave her a look that was half conspiracy, half irony. She laughed, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

    “I love candy,” I said, popping another Twizzler into my mouth.

    “You won’t be so glad when your teeth start falling out,” she replied, pressing the accelerator. “We’ll see about that in a month.”

    I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to upset her. Not now. She went on, as if she had guessed what I was thinking.

    “I know this isn’t easy for you. You weren’t thrilled about moving, but I’m convinced you’ll end up loving this place. All I want is for you to try.”

    I took a slow breath. Yes, I was going to try. I was going to pretend I believed her, to give her that chance. But that didn’t mean it would be easy. Changing your life, changing your habits—it was like jumping into an abyss.

    “I’ll try,” I said finally. “But promise me you won’t push me.”

    As the car slowed, I leaned forward to look out the window. The landscape had dissolved into a stretch of dense greenery. Trees as far as the eye could see. Nothing else.

    “Are we moving into a forest?” I said flatly.

    My grandmother laughed softly and placed a reassuring hand on my knee. “No, it’s just the road,” she said. “Wait for it.”

    Sure enough, a few minutes later, buildings began to appear, scattered along a narrow street.

    I thought of the guys we’d seen at the gas station on the way here. Four of them, staring at our car like they owned the road. The memory of their intense stares lingered, leaving a vague unease in its wake.

    “So, tell me,” my grandmother said, keeping her eyes on the road. “How do you really feel, deep down, about all of this?”

    I bit my lip. I knew she was hoping for a sincere answer.

    The truth was, I hated the idea of starting over from scratch, but I also wanted to show her I was making an effort. “I think this is what’s best for us,” I said finally. “So I’ll try to get used to it.”

    The neighborhood unfolding before us did have a quiet charm. I tried to focus on that. Texas had its advantages, that much was undeniable. The people seemed open, and I wanted to believe we could fit in. But the thought of starting over from nothing was still a crushing weight.

    “Great, we live in the middle of nowhere,” I muttered. Not having a car would make it even worse. How was I supposed to get around? Were there even any buses that came through this remote part of town?

    The car stopped in front of a large, old house. I ran a hand over my face and finally looked up at it. In spite of myself, a smile stretched my lips. The facade had charm—a little worn, sure—but one window opened onto a small balcony. Just like my room in Florida.

    My eyes were glued to it.

    From the outside, the house looked great, even if it seemed like it had been abandoned for years. With a little care and work, it could be beautiful again. Maybe living here wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

    “It needs some repairs,” my grandmother admitted, “but I already fell in love with it. I couldn’t resist.”

    Inside, my excitement dropped a notch. The worn carpets, the dated furniture, the musty smell—the whole place felt like it was stuck in a bygone era.

    “Workers will come in a few days,” she explained quickly, reading my grimace. “And look at the garden. With a little attention, it’ll be gorgeous. We can decorate it however we want, make this place a real home.”

    I let her talk. She had every right to be happy, and who was I to take that away from her? My mood could wait. What mattered was seeing her smile.

    “Quiet neighborhood, huh?” I added after a pause. “Hey, how far is the nearest beach?”

    She laughed. “Already feeling nostalgic?”

    “Always,” I answered with a shrug. “But I can wait. Do you want me to start unloading the car?”

    She nodded. My job was to get the essentials out; the rest would follow. As for where she was getting the money for all of this, I didn’t dare ask.

    “Yes, and I’m going to check if the heat works,” she said.

    The heat? That didn’t sound good.

    I rolled my eyes and headed back outside. It couldn’t get any worse, right? Just as I was leaning into the car, a voice behind me made me jump.

    “Need a hand?”

    I straightened up so fast my head spun. My heart hammered against my ribs.

    “Isla?”

    She strolled over, the picture of nonchalance. “So you’re the one moving in here? This is your house?”

    A knot formed in my stomach. Her tone was light, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Closing the car door with a kick, I stared at her in silence. This girl had a strange energy I couldn’t quite place.

    “Is there a problem?” I demanded abruptly.

    “Not at all,” she answered with a smile. “The house has been empty for a long time, that’s all. I live a little farther down, but I mostly spend my time at my brother’s.”

    “Why didn’t anyone buy it before?”

    She shrugged. “No idea. Want me to help you?”

    Without waiting for my answer, she grabbed a box from the trunk and headed up the driveway.

    I wasn’t sure I wanted to be her friend. Something about her put me on guard.

    “Maya, can you bring me—” My grandmother stepped out, stopping short. “Oh, who’s this?” She took the box from Isla’s hands.

    “Isla. She lives down the street,” I explained. “She says the house has been empty for a long time. Are you sure this was a good idea?” I didn’t want her to waste her money on a lost cause.

    “Maya,” my grandmother said firmly.

    That was enough to make me shut up. Once she made a decision, there was no point in arguing.

    “Go finish unloading,” she said, her tone softening. “I’m making us hot chocolate.”

    “She’s sweet,” Isla whispered with a smile before picking up another box.

    Yes, my grandmother was sweet, but that was deceptive. She could be immovable when she needed to be.

    “Thanks, I’ve got it,” I said, taking the box from her. I couldn’t figure this girl out. Was she genuinely nice, or was she after something?

    “It doesn’t bother me,” she said with a shrug. “Anyway, I’d rather be here. My brother has friends over and I don’t feel like hanging out with them.”

    “How old is your brother?” I asked, intrigued.

    “Twenty-four, but he acts like he’s fifty,” she answered with a smile. “And sometimes he’s insufferable.”

    “Insufferable how?”

    “You’ll see when you meet him. What about you, do you have any brothers or sisters?”

    “No, only child,” I replied.

    I walked up the driveway, a box in my arms. But my foot caught on a loose stone and I lost my balance. The box tumbled from my grasp, and I fell hard, my knees scraping against the gravel.

    “Shit!” I groaned, rolling up my jeans to dig a sharp little stone out of my skin.

    “Are you okay?” Isla asked, leaning toward me.

    When The Alpha Chooses A Human novel Chapter 3

    Voices pulled me from my thoughts, a sudden reminder that I wasn’t alone.

    My hands were scraped raw and smeared with drying blood, my knee throbbing from the fall, but it wasn’t the end of the world. The embarrassment burned hot in my cheeks, but night had fallen. At least no one had been around to watch me trip. I wiped my bloody fingers on my jeans, a useless gesture against the shame.

    “Need a hand, short stuff?” a raspy voice murmured through the cold air.

    Short stuff? The words hit like a flick to the ear, and I winced.

    “Blake,” Isla’s voice cut in sharply.

    When I looked up, a gasp escaped me. Who was this man? Where had he come from? And why on earth wasn’t he wearing a shirt? Was this some absurd joke, or was my exhausted brain finally playing tricks on me?

    I couldn’t tear my eyes away, mesmerized. He met my stare for a long moment before his gaze slid away, and a wave of embarrassment washed over me.

    Four guys stood in front of the house, all of them shirtless in the freezing night, looking like they’d stepped out of another world.

    The air bit at my exposed skin, and their collective stillness gave the scene a strange, predatory intensity. For a second, I felt so disoriented it was as if I’d hit my head getting out of the car. Reality wavered.

    I pushed myself to my feet, my hands still sticky, and began gathering the belongings that had spilled across the driveway. My clothes and possessions were scattered in a messy heap. “Blake, please, just go,” Isla urged.

    He remained planted where he was, his eyes fixed on me. The discomfort simmering inside me swelled, then sharpened into alarm when I saw what he was holding.

    My blanket.

    My mother’s.

    It was old, frayed, and clumsily repaired by hand—the kind of treasure you cling to because it holds the last traces of someone you loved.

    I treated it like a fragile relic. No one was ever allowed to treat it like a rag. And yet, this boy held it at arm’s length, dangling it like a worthless scrap of cloth.

    “Blake,” Isla hissed.

    I couldn’t even find the strength to ask for it back. The words were lodged in my throat.

    Just then, my grandmother emerged from the house, her posture rigid, her voice radiating authority.

    “Maya, what’s going on here?” she asked, positioning herself beside me. Her gaze landed instantly on the blanket. “Young man, I believe what you’re holding doesn’t belong to you. Give it back.”

    The steel in her voice was a balm to my frayed nerves. It was like an anchor; I felt my racing heart begin to settle.

    But I was still too dazed to move with any confidence. I reached out, snatched the blanket from his grasp, and clutched it to my chest, burying my face in the worn fabric. I didn’t care if they thought I was hugging a scrap of cloth. It was the only piece of my mother I had left.

    “Come inside,” my grandmother said, not waiting for an answer. “The rest can wait until tomorrow.” She then turned to Isla. “Isla, you’re welcome to join us. Come on in.”

    The invitation was an order wrapped in politeness. Isla didn’t need to be told twice.

    “Sit down, girls. I’m going to make hot chocolate,” my grandmother announced, her tone almost cheerful.

    I nodded, my head still swimming with blurry images. Isla mentioned she’d left her phone in the car, an excuse to either ensure privacy or project a bit of independence.

    I opened the glove box, grabbed my own phone, and double-checked that the car was locked. Then, with a knot of unease tightening in my stomach, I walked back toward the house with the last of the boxes under my arm.

    As I turned, a hand shot out and clamped around my wrist, the force anything but innocent. He yanked me back toward him, and I froze, every muscle locking in place.

    “Short stuff,” he growled, his voice a low, brutal thing right beside my ear.

    His fingers dug into my wrist, and the pressure hurt. I tried to draw a breath, but the air felt thin, stolen. I didn’t dare struggle. My body went rigid, every fiber screaming for me to run, but a strange confusion crept through the fear. I was terrified, yes, but there was also a bizarre, unwelcome thrill at being noticed, at being held.

    “Please let me go,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

    He didn’t move. Instead, he buried his face in the curve of my neck and took a long, deep inhale, as if searching for a specific scent.

    “Fuck, baby, you’re pure ocean,” he breathed, his voice thick, almost drunk.

    A violent tremor shot through me. Who sniffed someone like that? Who pressed their face against the neck of a girl they just met in a driveway?

    I felt cold and sick, yet some stupid, ashamed part of me felt a flicker of guilty curiosity at the warmth of his breath, the solid press of his head against my skin. It was utterly repellent and, somehow, attractive.

    Then, as quickly as he’d appeared, he let go. He simply vanished back into the night without another word, without a sound.

    The sudden emptiness he left behind cranked my anxiety to a new high. He could walk away, but he was still out there. He had gotten close, breathed me in, and retreated, leaving me feeling invaded.

    I stumbled inside, took the mug my grandmother handed me, and sank onto the couch. The hot chocolate burned my fingers, but I took a sip anyway. The warmth was more comforting than the taste.

    My thoughts kept circling back to him: the rough gentleness of his grip, his face in my neck, and that impossible scent of salt and sea he claimed to have found on me.

    “Maya, sweetheart, are you there?” my grandmother called, her soft laugh chasing away the ghosts in the room. “Isla was just telling me she’s going to the same school you’re enrolled in.”

    I had almost forgotten about school. The information pulled me back to a more ordinary reality—classes to attend, people to meet, a life to rebuild. I tried to cling to it.

    “Great, school,” I breathed, rolling my eyes. “Only six more months. After that, we’ll see.”

    Isla stood up to leave, a friendly smile on her face as she held out her hand. “Thanks for having me. I should get going. By the way, here’s my number, if you need anything.”

    She took my hand and gave it a light squeeze. I managed a small smile in return. Despite everything, she was the only person I knew here, and that alone was reassuring.

    When the door clicked shut behind her, I looked at my grandmother, waiting for the verdict.

    “She seems nice,” she said with a kind smile. “Maybe your first friend here. Her brother, on the other hand, is a real piece of work.”

    I burst out laughing despite myself. Hearing my grandmother talk like that always surprised me; she wasn’t one for crude language. But her comment was wrapped in a warm, protective tone that did me a world of good.

    “But what a gorgeous asshole,” she added with an amused glint in her eye.

    I had to admit, there was something magnetic about him. Still, I shook my head.

    “I think he’s already noticed you,” my grandmother said, winking as she took my empty mug. “He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

    “Grandma,” I groaned, a blush creeping up my neck. She was only twenty when she had my mom; people often mistook her for my mother, and she certainly acted like it sometimes.

    “I’m just saying,” she said with a grin. “Try to get some sleep now.” She gestured to the couch. “It’s not perfect, but you’ll have a proper bed tomorrow.”

    “I love you, Grandma,” I murmured.

    “I love you too, sweetheart,” she replied, and her words fell over my trembling shoulders like the warmest blanket.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • I Reject You: The Broken Luna’s Royal Destiny novel by Superstition

    I Reject You: The Broken Luna's Royal Destiny novel by Superstition

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    I was the fated mate of Brannon Hoffman, the powerful Alpha heir, devoting five years of my life to him.

    But he coldly demanded I voluntarily renounce my claim, insisting his lover, Elenore, was dying of Moon Sickness and needed his bond to survive.

    In my past life, I was completely shattered.

    Elenore put on a sickening show of pity, while Brannon threw me away without even a formal rejection ritual, sparing himself the pain of the bond snapping.

    He trapped me with Pack Law-a loophole only the elders could unlock-so I could never leave, never be free, never stop being the “pending” nothing he’d made me.

    Worst of all, he used his Alpha command to drag away my dying grandmother’s only doctor, all to treat Elenore’s faked, blood-stained cough.

    They left my grandmother to die in agony, then paraded their “true love” at a high-society charity gala.

    I died in dark isolation, my heart broken and my family utterly destroyed.

    Opening my eyes again, I was back in Brannon’s study, breathing in the scent of cedar right as he asked me to step down.

    This time, I didn’t weep. I didn’t beg. I named my own terms.

    “I won’t voluntarily renounce you.”

    I looked at his arrogant face and smiled coldly.

    “I will formally reject you-on the full moon, before every elder and every wolf in the Pack.”

    But I knew his games wouldn’t end there. So I walked into the palace of the crown itself, seeking a power he could never command.

    And there, the crippled, “short-lived” Prince Gideon-the man the whole kingdom had written off as a ghost-looked at me and offered a way out no one saw coming.

    A royal mate bond. A prince’s protection. A throne’s shadow.

    I accepted his hand.

    Because this time, I’m not running from the game.

    I’m the one setting the rules.

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    I Reject You: The Broken Luna’s Royal Destiny novel Chapter 1

    Alanna’s POV:
    “Renounce your claim as my mate.”
    Brannon Hoffman’s Alpha aura crashed over me like a wave, dominance meant to drive any Omega to her knees. My legs shook, but I lifted my chin and answered, “And if I refuse?”
    The study went still. The air was thick with the scent of old books, leather, and the sharp, clean smell of cedar that clung to him. It was the scent I had breathed in for five years in my past life, the scent that had followed me to my death.
    He sat behind a massive mahogany desk like a judge about to pass sentence. His handsome face was a mask of cold impatience, his tailored black uniform screaming his status as the heir to the Hoffman Pack.
    “You know about Elenore’s condition,” he continued, his tone void of any warmth. Elenore Gay—the daughter of a minor Pack’s Beta, a woman of no rank or mate-bond to her name—had somehow become the center of my husband’s world. “The Moon Sickness is consuming her. The doctors say she needs the bond of a powerful Alpha to have any chance of survival.”
    I listened silently. There was no storm in my chest, no frantic pounding of my heart. The Alanna of my past would have been shattered by these words, her world crumbling. But the woman standing here now only felt a bitter irony. Moon Sickness? A lie so flimsy even a third-rate Pack healer could see through it.
    He saw my silence as the same old submission. His tone softened, laced with a condescending superiority. “I know this is unfair to you. But as an Alpha, I have a duty to protect my Pack, and the people most important to me. I need you… to voluntarily renounce your claim as my official mate.”
    He paused, delivering what he thought was a merciful blow. “You can still remain in the Pack as my second. I’ll ensure you and your family are cared for.”
    I lifted my head, truly seeing him for the first time without the fog of love. He was handsome, powerful, and profoundly selfish. His brown eyes held no guilt, only a fanatical devotion to Elenore and a self-righteous satisfaction in his own “great sacrifice.”
    My hands didn’t tremble. My breath didn’t catch. I ran my thumb over the small, faint scar on my right index finger, a relic from my work restoring ancient artifacts. It was my only comfort in my last life, and the source of my strength in this one.
    “No,” I said. The word was soft, but it cut through the heavy air.
    Brannon’s brow furrowed. Surprise, then annoyance, flickered across his face. “What did you say?” His voice turned to ice, the oppressive weight of his Alpha aura pressing down on me.
    My legs trembled; a cold sweat broke across my back. Every wolf’s instinct should have bowed me, but I had no inner wolf to obey, and that hollow emptiness—the very flaw he so despised—was what kept my spine straight.
    I met his gaze, my own clear and steady. “I said, no. I will not voluntarily renounce my claim, and I will certainly not be your second.”
    His cold impatience cracked, a flicker of disbelief crossing his features before it hardened into raw fury. “Alanna Cruz! Don’t be a fool! You’re a wolfless Omega. Without me, you are nothing!” His roar echoed in the room, making my ears ring.
    Wolfless. No inner wolf, no mind-link. It was my greatest “flaw” as an Omega, the reason he had always looked down on me. The old me had shrunk into nothingness under that word.
    But I knew now that this “flaw” was also my shield. It insulated me from his emotional manipulation, allowing me to think with perfect clarity.
    I took a deep breath, the words I had practiced a thousand times ready on my tongue. “I won’t ‘voluntarily renounce’ you, Brannon. I will ‘formally reject’ you.”
    The air in the room froze. The anger on his face solidified into pure disbelief.
    “According to Pack Law, Article Seven, the dissolution of a mate bond requires a formal Rejection,” I stated, my voice as calm as if I were reciting a recipe. “‘I, Alanna Cruz, reject you, Brannon Hoffman, as my mate.’ Then, you must respond, ‘I, Brannon Hoffman, accept your rejection.’ Only then is the ceremony complete.”
    “Are you insane?” he finally snarled, finding his voice. “Do you know what that means? The severing of the bond! The pain will be ten times worse for you! Your Omega body won’t survive it!”
    Yes, I knew. In my past life, Elenore had pretended to plead for me, and Brannon had simply cast me aside, letting me wither away in isolation without the formal ritual. He had spared himself the discomfort of the bond-snap.
    “I’m well aware,” I said, a small, cold smile touching my lips for the first time since my rebirth. “But I don’t care. I have only one condition.”
    He watched me, wary now, as if seeing a stranger. “What condition?”
    “The ceremony must take place on the full moon, ten days from now, in front of all the Pack elders and members.”
    I leaned forward slightly, my voice dropping but gaining weight. “And until that ceremony is complete, Elenore Gay is not to set foot in this main house, nor is she to be presented under any title of a ‘future Luna’.”
    I had thrown the problem back at him. If he wanted to legitimize his relationship with Elenore, he had to endure the public humiliation of being rejected by me.
    Brannon’s chest heaved, his Alpha rage threatening to crack the very ceiling. He stared at me, his eyes burning holes into my soul. He thought he held all the cards, but he didn’t know that from the moment I woke up in this life, I was the one setting the rules of the game.
    A suffocating silence stretched between us. I could feel the war inside him—the fury, the confusion, and the sting of a challenged ego.
    Finally, he ground out the words through his teeth. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
    “I am absolutely certain, Mr. Alpha,” I replied with a slight nod, my quiet tone holding an unshakeable force.
    He slammed his fist on the desk. The sharp crack echoed through the study. A silver inkwell jumped, rolling off the edge. He flinched back from it—a small, instinctive recoil, the way every wolf shrinks from silver, even an Alpha—and the dark ink bled across the rich carpet.
    “Fine! Alanna, you asked for this!” he roared, rising to his full, intimidating height. “Ten days. I hope you don’t regret it!”

    I Reject You: The Broken Luna’s Royal Destiny novel Chapter 2

    Alanna’s POV:
    I shut the door to my chambers, the solid wood a welcome barrier against the curious stares of the servants in the hallway. In my past life, this room was a cage of tears and despair. Now, it was my war room.
    My personal maid, Livia, rushed in with a glass of warm milk. She was a gift from my mother, loyal to the core. Her eyes were red-rimmed. “My lady, I heard… How could he do this to you!”
    I took the glass, the warmth seeping into my cold fingers. I patted her hand. “Livia, don’t worry. Everything will be alright.”
    “But…” she started, her voice trembling.
    I cut her off gently. “Go and get me the Pack codex. The full version, the one that hasn’t been edited.”
    Livia looked confused but nodded immediately. She knew that while I appeared soft, my decisions were final.
    Soon, a heavy, leather-bound book sat on my desk. I opened it, the pages smelling of dust and time, and turned directly to the section on mate bonds. I had never paid attention to these laws before. Now, every word could be the key to my survival.
    The next day, Brannon sent his attendant, Milo, to deliver his “agreement.” Milo strutted in with the swagger of a beta grown drunk on his Alpha’s favor, sneering down his nose at the wolfless Omega he had been ordered to serve.
    The man’s tone was arrogant, as if he were bestowing a great favor upon me.
    He handed me a formal notice for the rejection ceremony. I took the parchment and read it carefully.
    It stated the time and place, and it agreed to my condition that Elenore would not enter the main house before the ritual. Everything seemed to be as I had demanded.
    But I knew Brannon. He was an Alpha obsessed with control. He would never allow an Omega to lead him by the nose.
    My eyes scanned every word, every punctuation mark. Livia stood beside me, holding her breath.
    Then I found it. At the very bottom of the notice, in tiny, almost unnoticeable script, was a reference to a supplementary clause of the codex.
    I immediately flipped to the corresponding article in the heavy book. “Supplementary Clause 3.1.5: To protect the stability of the Pack, any change in the mate bond of an Alpha heir requires the ‘blessing’ of at least two elders from different families before the ceremony, to certify that it is in the Pack’s long-term interest.”
    A cold dread washed over me. It was a trap. It was a snare, and I was the wolf who had walked into it. The elders of the Hoffman Pack were gray-muzzled old wolves who had bowed their necks to Brannon’s father for so long they had forgotten how to straighten them. They would never “bless” a ceremony that brought public shame upon the heir.
    Brannon had agreed to the public ceremony on the surface, but in reality, he could control the elders and ensure the ritual was never legally permitted to happen.
    He could delay it forever, using the excuse that “the elders have not yet consented.” I would be trapped indefinitely in this humiliating status of “pending rejection,” unable to leave, unable to start a new life.
    What a vicious, brilliant move. I almost had to applaud his cruelty.
    Livia saw the color drain from my face. “My lady, what is it?”
    “It’s nothing,” I said, folding the document. My gaze hardened. “He wants to play with the rules. So, I’ll just have to leave his game board entirely.”
    I knew then that I could not win this war from inside the Hoffman Pack. I needed an outside force.
    A few names flickered through my mind, but I dismissed them one by one. They were either too close to the Hoffmans or not powerful enough to challenge a major Alpha Pack.
    I needed someone of high enough status, with no ties to the Hoffmans, and… with a reason to help me.
    I stood and walked to the window. The perfectly manicured gardens of the Hoffman estate spread out below, a beautiful prison. I couldn’t be trapped here any longer.
    “Livia, prepare a simple dress for me, and a discreet carriage.”
    “My lady, where are you going?” she asked, her voice filled with alarm.
    “To visit my family,” I lied. In my past life, my brother had been framed and killed in the wilderness for trying to defend my honor against Brannon. In this life, he was dead too, gone before I could save him, leaving only his five-year-old son, Leo, in my grandmother’s care. This time, I would not drag what was left of them into my fight.
    I would protect it. But “visiting my family” was the perfect excuse, a reasonable and sentimental reason that no one could deny.
    I needed to get out of here. I needed to go to the capital.
    To see the one person who could break this stalemate.
    I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My face was still pale, but my eyes were different. The girl in the mirror was no longer Alanna Cruz, the lamb for slaughter. But to win this war, I had to continue playing the part of one.
    Brannon, you think you can trap me with your rules? You will soon learn that a person with nothing left to lose but a thirst for revenge follows no rules at all.

    I Reject You: The Broken Luna’s Royal Destiny novel Chapter 3

    Alanna’s POV:
    The day before I was set to leave, an unexpected event disrupted my plans. Elenore Gay sent “gifts.”
    Her personal maid, Rose, a woman with the same smug eyes as every bully I’d ever known, arrived at my door with several servants carrying large chests.
    The estate’s housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, followed close behind. She had always been a staunch supporter of Elenore, and her face was alight with malicious glee.
    “Miss Cruz,” Rose said, her voice dripping with false sweetness as she gave a mocking curtsy. “Our Lady Elenore sends these. She says thank you for your ‘generous’ sacrifice of the Alpha’s love. This is a small token of her appreciation.”
    The servants opened the chests. Inside were all the personal items I had made for Brannon over the years.
    A combat tunic with the Pack emblem I had spent nights embroidering. A pair of wolf-shaped cufflinks I had saved for months to buy. Even the calming balm I had personally blended to soothe his Alpha temper.
    Every single item was a monument to my past life’s foolish devotion. Now, Elenore was returning them to me like garbage.
    It was the ultimate humiliation. She was telling me that everything I had cherished was worthless to Brannon.
    Livia trembled with rage, ready to lunge forward, but I stopped her with a look.
    I stared at the items, my heart a frozen lake. The old me would have shattered. The new me found it laughable.
    I walked to the chests and picked up the combat tunic, my fingers tracing the emblem I had stitched with so much love.
    Rose and Mrs. Gable exchanged a smirk, thinking I was lost in sentimental memories.
    I looked up at Rose and smiled faintly. “Please thank Lady Elenore for me.”
    “However,” I continued, my smile vanishing as my eyes turned to ice, “it seems she has made a mistake.”
    I turned to Mrs. Gable. She was slightly taller than me and always looked down on me.
    “Mrs. Gable,” I began, my voice quiet but carrying an authority that silenced the corridor. “Please tell me, according to Pack law, what is my official status until the rejection ceremony is complete?”
    Mrs. Gable froze, clearly not expecting this question. “You… you are still the Alpha’s mate, Miss Cruz,” she stammered.
    “Good.” I nodded, my gaze sweeping over the assembled servants. “Which means I am still the future lady of this estate. The future Luna of the Hoffman Pack. Is that correct?”
    No one dared to answer, but their silence was an affirmation.
    “Then, what is the punishment for an outsider who disposes of the future Luna’s personal property, and has it delivered by a servant’s servant as an insult?” My voice rose, sharp and commanding.
    Mrs. Gable’s face turned white. She finally realized her grave error.
    I ignored her and turned to the stunned Rose. “And you, a mistress’s maid, dare to be insolent to the future Luna. Who gave you the audacity?”
    I raised my hand and, without a flicker of hesitation, slapped her hard across the face.
    The sharp crack echoed down the hall. Everyone, including Livia, stared in shock. They had never seen me like this.
    Rose clutched her cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You… you hit me?”
    “Hit you? Mrs. Gable, tell her. According to the rules, what is the punishment for insubordination?” I asked coldly, my eyes fixed on the trembling housekeeper.
    Mrs. Gable’s lips quivered. “Twenty… twenty lashes, and banishment from the estate.”
    “Did you hear that?” I said to Rose, who had crumpled to the floor in fear. “I’m in a good mood today, so I will spare you the whip. Now get out. Go back and tell your mistress that I have received her ‘gratitude.’ And remind her that as long as I am Brannon Hoffman’s mate, she has no right to throw her weight around in this house!”
    I turned to Livia. “Take everything in these chests and burn it. Leave nothing.” These things were my foolish past. I needed to be rid of them completely.
    The servants scrambled to haul the chests away, and Rose was dragged off. Mrs. Gable stood frozen, her face ashen, unable to meet my eyes.
    This little drama only strengthened my resolve. I wasn’t just going to leave. I was going to a place where I could gain enough power to protect myself and my family.
    The capital city. Princess Theodora’s palace. It was my only choice.

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  • Reborn As The Cold Alpha’s Secret Mate novel by Liz Nozic

    Reborn As The Cold Alpha's Secret Mate novel by Liz Nozic

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    My fiancé, Caleb Tucker, told me it was the last thing I could do for him.

    Then, he sold me to a cruel, greedy old man just to curry favor for his own political ambitions.

    I was branded like livestock, treated as nothing more than a vessel and a broodmare for a man I despised.

    When I desperately tried to resist this horrifying fate, I was beaten and left to bleed out in the biting cold.

    “Seraphina, it’s the last thing you can do for me.”

    His words were colder than the winter air as my life drained into the pristine white snow, his handsome face twisted with false regret.

    I died a miserable, invisible Omega servant, my blood staining the freezing ice while he secured his future.

    Until my last breath, I couldn’t understand how the man I loved could trade my life for a little bit of status, leaving me to die like a discarded piece of trash.

    Opening my eyes again, the searing pain of the branding iron was just a ghost on my unbroken skin.

    I was back in my cramped servant’s cell in Silvermoon Keep, right on the morning the Matriarch was choosing a breeder for the Alpha heir.

    This time, I wouldn’t run. I would willingly offer myself to Gideon Carlisle, the most powerful and cold-hearted Alpha of them all, and use him to secure my survival.

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    Reborn As The Cold Alpha’s Secret Mate novel Chapter 1

    SERAPHINA’S POV:
    “Take off your dress.”
    My fingertips trembled slightly, and a flush crept up my neck. Obeying the Matriarch’s command, I untied the rough sash at my waist. The coarse linen pooled at my feet, leaving me in nothing but a thin, white undergarment that barely covered my body.
    As I shifted my weight, the fabric rode up, exposing the pale curve of my waist. In the dim morning light, my skin looked like fine porcelain.
    Yet, Isadora Carlisle, the Pack’s Matriarch, and her stern lady-in-waiting, Agatha, didn’t even glance at my waist. Their sharp eyes were fixed entirely on my hips, which were noticeably fuller than those of the other Omega servants. Suddenly, their eyes lit up.
    “Matriarch, I believe Seraphina is a fine choice,” Agatha said, a calculating smile on her lips. “She has the wide hips of a strong breeder, perfect for bearing pups. Moreover, she’s been trained in your quarters for years. She knows her place and won’t try to bewitch the Alpha heir.”
    “Indeed, your eyes are as sharp as ever, Agatha,” Isadora said, a satisfied smile appearing on her well-preserved face. “Seraphina, prepare yourself. You will serve the Alpha heir tonight.”
    I was one of her personal servant girls, and the more she looked at me, the more satisfied she seemed. She had made her decision.
    I knelt obediently on the cold stone floor, but as I heard her words, a wave of dizziness washed over me.
    In my past life, I had knelt in this exact spot. Except then, I was fully dressed. When the Matriarch ordered me to undress for the breeding inspection, I had refused without hesitation. “I already have a mate chosen, Caleb Tucker. I beg for your mercy, Matriarch.”
    The Pack usually treated their servants decently. Though displeased, Isadora had granted my release and handed me my freedom papers. I thought I could take my saved coins, return to Caleb, and live a simple life. But instead, Caleb and my family broke my leg and sold me to Jedediah Hicks, a cruel, eighty-year-old merchant, just to curry favor.
    And then… the biting snow, the blood, the agonizing death. Just thinking about it made my chest tight with suffocating pain.
    My eyelashes fluttered. I quickly pressed my forehead to the floor, forcing my voice to tremble with overwhelming gratitude. “Thank you, Matriarch, for this immense honor!”
    Seeing that I didn’t show the desperate, ambitious greed of other foolish Omegas, Isadora’s approval deepened.
    “Seraphina, the Alpha heir has been mated for three years but remains childless,” Isadora said, her voice dropping. “If you can give birth to a strong Alpha male pup, he will be the next heir of Silvermoon Keep.”
    She paused, watching me. I made sure to widen my eyes just a fraction, projecting the perfect blend of reverence and naive yearning. She nodded, completely satisfied. This was what she wanted: an Omega who would dedicate her life to serving the heir and continuing the Carlisle bloodline.
    “You are a maid from my own courtyard. Even the Luna will not dare to look down on you,” Isadora continued, sliding a heavy silver moonstone bracelet from her wrist and placing it onto my arm.
    I looked at her with tear-filled eyes. “Thank you for your grace, Matriarch. I swear to serve the Alpha heir with my life and ease your burdens.”
    After I bowed one last time, she dismissed me.
    Once I stepped out of her quarters, the feigned reverence vanished from my eyes, replaced by a bone-chilling coldness. I caught the envious glares of the other Omega servants in the corridor, and a mocking smile touched my lips.
    If I had a choice, I would gladly trade places with them. I had absolutely no desire to be a lowly breeder. I just wanted to survive until I was old enough to leave the Keep and live in peace.
    Gideon had been mated for three years. Neither his Luna nor his two chosen females had produced a pup. Either there was something wrong with the Alpha himself, or there was a deadly game of sabotage being played among his mates. Having a pup in that environment would be practically impossible.
    Even if I did miraculously get pregnant, given Isadora’s ruthless nature, it was highly likely she would take the pup and dispose of the mother. I could lose my life anyway. If I wasn’t driven into a corner by my past, I would never willingly become a breeder.
    But right now, I needed to use Gideon Carlisle’s formidable power as a shield to destroy Caleb and those greedy bastards from my past. To do that, I had to play the long game. And the first hurdle was surviving tonight.
    Gideon was a man of strict discipline. If he refused to touch me tonight, I would become the laughingstock of the Keep by morning, and Isadora might just throw me out. Remembering Caleb and the old merchant waiting outside these walls, I took a deep breath. No matter what methods I had to use, I had to make the Alpha heir claim me tonight.
    Late into the night, I was led to the Heir’s Quarters. Bathed and dressed in a sheer, whisper-thin silk nightgown, I knelt quietly by the edge of the massive bed.

    Reborn As The Cold Alpha’s Secret Mate novel Chapter 2

    SERAPHINA’S POV:
    The gossamer fabric clung to my curves, and my pale skin glowed faintly in the candlelight. With my naturally cold and timid demeanor, I looked like a fallen moon spirit—a sight meant to entice.
    The guards had said the Alpha Heir was still working in his study. I waited for a full two hours before heavy footsteps echoed outside.
    The doors swung open. Gideon Carlisle stepped into the room. Earlier today, his mother, Matriarch Isadora, had mentioned sending a servant to his bed, but he clearly hadn’t expected to find me already waiting in his private chambers. His dark brows furrowed slightly.
    I looked up at exactly the right moment. My violet eyes were shimmering, carrying a perfect balance of shyness and submission, meeting his gaze directly.
    But Gideon just stood there. He looked at me with the same calm indifference one might use to appraise a piece of furniture. There was no lust, no surprise in his eyes—only a cold, almost detached scrutiny.
    His oppressive Alpha aura made my chest tighten. Biting my lip, I forced myself to stand. “Alpha Heir… please allow me to help you out of your clothes.”
    As I approached him, a flush warming my cheeks, Gideon actually took a step back.
    Everyone in the Pack knew he was a man who lived by rules. He visited his Luna, Eleanor, during the full moon, and his other females on strictly scheduled days. I knew that if he accepted me, a breeder Omega, it would mean adding another exhausting obligation to his routine.
    Rutting without purpose drained energy, and Gideon was clearly unwilling. Just as he opened his mouth, undoubtedly to dismiss me, a knock came at the door.
    Agatha’s voice filtered through. “Alpha Heir, the Matriarch ordered me to bring you the Elk-Blood and Moon-Herb elixir.”
    It was a potent Alpha stamina brew. It was Isadora’s way of forcing his hand.
    Gideon let out a quiet sigh. It was no secret how obsessed his mother was with getting a grandson, especially since his younger half-brother already had two pups, parading them around the Keep daily to flaunt in front of the Matriarch.
    “Leave the elixir, Agatha. Tell my mother I understand,” Gideon replied, his voice deep and resigned.
    Agatha’s receding footsteps sounded almost cheerful; she clearly knew her master would never outright defy his mother’s wishes regarding the Pack’s lineage.
    Once she was gone, Gideon turned his cold gaze back to me. “Let’s get to bed, then.”
    He raised his arms, waiting for me to undress him.
    Having served in the Matriarch’s quarters, I was used to this. I stepped forward, my hands moving deftly to remove his heavy outer coat, secretly studying him as I did.
    In my past life, I had never dared to look at him. The other maids always whispered about his god-like beauty. Seeing him up close now, the rumors were true. Sharp jawline, eyes like midnight, a physique carved from granite. If I had to endure this to change my fate, at least the man I was serving was breathtaking.
    After removing his shirt, I gently untied my own sheer outer robe. It slipped to the floor, leaving me in nothing but a crimson silk camisole embroidered with delicate lace.
    The vibrant red contrasted sharply with my milky skin. My chest heaved slightly, the delicate curves of my body fully exposed—a living, breathing painting of temptation.
    Any other male in the Pack would have lost their minds and tackled me to the rugs. But Gideon wasn’t a normal man. He barely spared my body a glance, his eyes quickly returning to their icy calm.
    Just as I was frantically wondering what my next move should be, he reached out, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me under the heavy furs of the bed.
    Under the heavy velvet canopy, I threw my arms around Gideon, pulling him close.
    I was actually quite pleased at this moment. Secretly, I slipped a small, specially treated piece of white cloth under the pillows—my proof of the night. Even though, as a designated breeder Omega, I wasn’t strictly required to present proof of consummation to the Matriarch or his official mate, my past life had taught me to always leave a backup plan. Even when serving the Alpha Heir, I couldn’t afford to leave any loopholes for my enemies.

    Reborn As The Cold Alpha’s Secret Mate novel Chapter 3

    SERAPHINA’S POV:
    Gideon didn’t say anything as he positioned himself over me. My smile was still plastered on my face, but a second later, it completely vanished.
    His posture was rigid, almost more textbook than a medical manual. Those glacial blue eyes held absolutely zero lust or emotion. It made my entire body stiffen.
    Wait… do his mates not require any tenderness at all?
    I’ve been given a second chance at life. Is it too much to ask to enjoy this at least a little bit?
    With that thought in mind, I put on my most affectionate gaze and reached out to grasp Gideon’s large hands.
    This was clearly the first time the Alpha Heir had ever been interrupted during his “duty.” He stopped immediately, looking down at me with a mixture of confusion and growing impatience.
    “Alpha Heir,” I forced my voice into a syrupy, sweet register—so high and cloying my throat practically burned. “You work so hard for the Pack all day. Let your servant take care of you tonight. I want to… do it myself. Please, indulge me just this once?”
    He stared at me without a word, his dark, stormy eyes making it impossible to guess what he was thinking.
    Did I piss him off?
    Not daring to delay any further, I gave him a seductive smile of thanks and boldly looped my arms around his neck.
    He had clearly never seen such aggressive initiative from an Omega before. He froze for a split second, allowing me to slip into his guard. I could almost hear him thinking: What kind of unruly Omega did the Matriarch send me?
    He reached out, pinning my shoulders down to stop my movements, his face darkening as he growled softly, “Insolent!”
    A flicker of Alpha satisfaction crossed his face as he saw the mist of tears welling up in my eyes.
    I let out a tiny, exaggerated shudder at his bark, stopping my movements instantly and staring up at him like a frightened little deer. But a second later, I brazenly grabbed his hand again.
    “What are you doing?” he snapped.
    I looked up at him innocently, laughing inwardly. Sure enough, a man’s fingers are always sensitive, and this Alpha Heir is no exception.
    I immediately swapped my expression to one of absolute, starry-eyed worship, cooing in my most delicate, breathy voice, “Alpha Heir, the outsiders always say you rely on the Matriarch’s power for your status. But feeling the thick calluses on your knuckles and fingertips… I know you earned all your glory through your own blood, sweat, and battles!”
    Being looked at with such sheer adoration clearly stroked his ego. I could see the subtle shift in his demeanor—he felt validated, yet he kept his face stern and scolded, “Speak properly. Do not try to curry favor.”
    “Yes~” I purred, dragging the word out with enough twists and turns to make an Alpha’s bones itch.
    Looking into my wide, innocent eyes, Gideon seemed to know damn well I was doing it on purpose. Annoyed, but undeniably aroused, he crashed his lips down to silence my mouth.
    Seeing that my tactic worked, I immediately took the initiative. I have to admit, the experience turned out much better than I had initially expected.
    When it was over, I lay on the massive bed with a hidden look of disgust. If I sleep on this overly ornate, stiff bed all night, I’ll wake up with a sore back. I’m just here to do a job, not to play true love with the Alpha Heir. Whoever wants to suffer this bed can have it.
    Thinking of this, I dutifully crawled out from under the covers, dressed myself quickly, and grabbed my proof of the night. I gave Gideon a flawless, respectful bow. “Alpha Heir, I will not disturb your rest any longer. I shall take my leave.”
    Without waiting for his response, I turned and walked out.
    My swift departure seemed to catch Gideon completely off guard. As I walked away, I knew I had likely shattered whatever preconceived notions he had about me. He probably thought I was just another well-trained Omega sent by his mother, expecting me to be like those ambitious females who always begged to stay the night after the act, or worse, ignored his exhaustion to demand a second round just to secure favor. By leaving gracefully, I had spared him that annoyance, perhaps even earning his silent forgiveness for my earlier “unruly” behavior.
    Honestly, I didn’t care at all about Gideon’s attitude toward me. The mission was accomplished, and I just wanted a good night’s sleep.
    I hurried back to the modest servant’s quarters assigned to me, scrubbed myself clean with warm water, and collapsed onto my own bed, limbs spread wide like a starfish.
    I calculated in my head: With this, I won’t have to worry about failing the Matriarch’s inspection tomorrow. My position in the Pack is secure for now.
    I let out a long sigh, my tense nerves finally relaxing, and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
    That was, until the early hours of the morning, when a maid named Daisy frantically shook me awake.
    “Seraphina, wake up! It’s time to go to the main estate and pay your respects to the Luna!”

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • Sold to the Devil’s Empire novel by Judith C-Tagoe

    Sold to the Devil's Empire novel by Judith C-Tagoe

    👉 READ NOW

    Born minutes apart, raised in the same house, yet Delphina Moore was always the outsider. The unwanted twin.

    So when she tries to leave, her family makes sure she never gets the chance.

    They sell her to Evander Thorne.

    A man whispered about in fear. A man no one escapes.

    Delphina is supposed to disappear like the others.

    But she doesn’t.

    Instead, she survives… and forms a bond that was never meant to exist.

    A bond that ties her to Evander in ways neither of them can control.

    And worse, it awakens a secret buried long before she was born.

    A secret powerful enough to destroy everything or remake it entirely.

    👉 READ NOW

    Sold to the Devil’s Empire novel Chapter 1

    Delphina’s POV
    In our house, innocence meant nothing, only who cried first. And Ceilia always cried first.
    “Mummy!”
    Ceilia’s scream tore through the house.
    I froze.
    She stood in the centre of the bedroom, clutching her finger as blood welled from a neat crescent bite. Her bite. She had bitten her finger right in front of me.
    “I’m bleeding!” she wailed.
    My feet would not move. There was nowhere to hide anyway. The wardrobe door had no lock. The bathroom lock never worked. The window had iron bars.
    I heard footsteps approaching, and my heart raced in my chest.
    “What happened?”
    Mum appeared at the doorway, holding a spatula still in her hand from the kitchen. Oil glistened on its surface. Her eyes moved from Ceilia’s tears to the blood, then slowly to me.
    “Delphina hurt my finger,” Ceilia sobbed.
    I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
    Mum took Ceilia’s hand gently, inspecting it as if she were examining a crystal in her shop. She cooed softly. Wiped the blood with the edge of her apron.
    Then her arm swung. The spatula struck my shoulder before I could brace myself.
    “How dare you hurt her?” she shouted.
    “Mummy, I didn’t…”
    The second blow landed across my arm. The third on my back.
    The spatula made a flat, cracking sound each time it connected with my skin. She was holding my hand and repeatedly hitting me with the spatula.
    Ceilia’s crying softened.
    “Mummy, please,” I begged, while my attempt to free myself proved futile. “I didn’t do it.”
    Like always, my voice did not exist.
    She beat me until her breathing grew heavy and satisfied. When she finally stopped, I was shaking. My skin marked with red patches, and injuries resulting from the beating, but she didn’t care.
    She had never cared.
    “As your punishment, you will stay locked in the basement,” she said, seizing my wrist.
    I was only six years old.
    I stumbled as she dragged me down the narrow staircase. The basement door creaked open. Damp air rose to meet us.
    While she shoved me inside, I turned.
    Ceilia stood at the top of the stairs.
    She stuck her tongue out teasingly.
    The door slammed, and the lock clicked before I could get to it.
    I pressed my back against the wood and slid down slowly. My arms burned. My legs stung. My skin would become redder by nightfall.
    This was how it had always been.
    Ceilia is my twin.
    We shared a birthday, not a face. She had black hair and warm brown eyes that made people smile. I had brunette hair and green eyes that made people whisper.
    From the day we were born, she had been the miracle, and I, the mistake.
    I learned very early that one word was forbidden in Ceilia’s world. No.
    I had a storybook. Kevin from next door had given it to me. He said it was his favourite and that I was clever enough to understand it.
    Ceilia wanted it.
    “No,” I said.
    And that was it. She bit her own finger.
    And here I was, beaten and locked up in a basement.
    Father never questioned anything. He worked, ate, and slept. Mum owned a boutique where rich women shopped for imported silk and perfume.
    We were not poor. Yet I delivered newspapers before dawn.
    Ceilia went to school in polished shoes and pleated skirts. I scrubbed floors that were already clean. In the afternoons, I cooked, washed, ironed, and dusted until every surface shone like glass.
    Yes, I started cooking for the family at the age of six.
    The only good thing they did for me was buy the groceries and provide me with cooking books. That started when they discovered I had learned to read and write on my own.
    “If there is dust, you do not eat,” Mum would say.
    We shared a room once. Ceilia slept on the queen-sized bed. I slept on the floor.
    “It will be easier when Ceilia needs something,” Mum had explained.
    By the time I was thirteen years old, even that small space was taken from me. The servants who cleaned the compound were dismissed one by one. I replaced them all.
    “You are old enough to earn your keep.”
    I moved into the kitchen storage room. It smelled of flour and detergent.
    “It will help you wake early,” Mum said.
    It helped me understand what I was.
    Staff.
    Kevin was the only soft thing in my world.
    Over weekends, he would teach me what he learned at school. Algebra frightened me. History fascinated me. He said I asked questions like someone meant for more.
    When I turned fifteen, he told me his father had now taken over from his grandfather to manage the Wilson’s Group. They were moving.
    “Delphina, take this.” He pressed a cheap plastic ring into my palm. Blue stone. Too large for my finger.
    “I’ll come back for you when I’m older,” he said with a grin he believed in.
    I hugged him tightly.
    That was the last time I saw him.
    I slid a thread through the ring and wore it around my neck for years. I wore high-neck tops, so it was easy to hide it from my family.
    Hope is a stubborn thing, but it was the only thing that kept me going.
    One day, I will be free.
    I always encouraged myself with those words.
    It will not be like this forever.
    By twenty, hope had turned into something sharper.
    Enough.
    I had counted the days quietly. Planned silently. I kept my thoughts in a diary hidden under the kitchen shelf behind the sacks of rice.
    I did not know where I would go, but I knew I would leave.
    That morning, I woke at four as usual.
    “After today, I’ll be free,” I whispered as I folded my thin blanket.
    I cleaned with a lightness I had never felt before. Washed dishes carefully. Polished the bannister. Prepared breakfast.
    At seven, they would leave.
    Father to work, mum to her shop, and Ceilia to her friends, who never visited our house because she did not like them seeing me.
    I would pack my small bag, walk out that door, never to return.
    I cleared the breakfast table, humming under my breath.
    “Delphina.”
    My stomach tightened.
    I hurried to the sitting room.
    If she called twice, I would be struck.
    “Mummy, you called?” I bowed slightly.
    Father sat stiffly on the sofa. Ceilia lounged beside him, scrolling through her phone.
    “Delphina, you are twenty,” Father said.
    I blinked. They remembered.
    “We have decided it is time you settle down.”
    The room tilted slightly.
    “Settle down?” I repeated.
    “Do not interrupt,” Mum snapped.
    “Sorry.”
    “Mr Evander Thorne has made us an offer,” Father continued. “In return, he requires something to seal the arrangement.”
    Understanding crawled over me slowly.
    “You offered me,” I said quietly.
    “I said be silent!” Mum’s hand struck my cheek.
    The sting blossomed.
    “No,” I said, and the word surprised even me. “I will not be silent. What have I done to deserve this? Am I even your child?”
    Another slap.
    “You should be grateful,” Mum hissed. “A man of his stature is willing to take you.”
    “Then let Ceilia marry him,” I said. “If he is so wealthy, surely that suits her.”
    The third slap sent me sideways.
    “How dare you compare yourself to Ceilia?” Mum barked. “Our angel already has a proposal from someone far superior.”
    Ceilia smirked.
    Evander Thorne.
    Everyone knew the rumours. Ruthless. Cold. Untouchable. Hates women. A man whose name alone could make businessmen tremble.
    And I was to be the price of some bargain.
    I swallowed.
    Fine.
    They would not find me here when they returned tonight.
    A knock sounded at the door.
    “See who it is,” Mum ordered.
    I stepped out of the balcony corridor and descended to the front entrance.
    Two men in black suits stood outside. Their expressions were blank, professional.
    “Yes?”
    “Is Mr Moore home?” one asked.
    “Yes.”
    Heavy footsteps approached behind me.
    “She is ready,” Father said.
    My blood turned to ice.
    “She?”
    Before I could move, the men seized my arms.
    “No!” I struggled, but their grip tightened.
    “Mummy, Daddy, please!” The words tore out of me, though I knew better than to expect mercy.
    Ceilia watched from the staircase, behind mum and dad.
    Holding a book.
    She deliberately held it up so I could see.
    My diary.
    The ribbon I used as a bookmark dangled from her fingers. And on her pinkie was the plastic ring Kevin gave me. My hand flew to my neck. It was gone.
    She knew of my plans. And she planned her own.
    She smiled, looking pleased.
    They dragged me outside. A sleek black car waited at the gate. One of the men opened the back door and shoved me inside.
    I clawed at the handle.
    Something cold pressed against my nose.
    A sharp chemical scent filled my lungs, and the world blurred.
    My last thought before darkness swallowed me was simple and devastating.
    I had tried to run.
    But freedom had never been mine to claim.

    Sold to the Devil’s Empire novel Chapter 2

    Evander’s POV
    “Sir, it is the final day. Mr Moore has still not paid what he owes.”
    Marcus’s voice carried across the balcony, steady as ever.
    I did not turn immediately. Below me, Draevik City pulsed in disciplined silence. Glass towers reflected the late afternoon sun. Traffic moved like blood through veins I owned.
    I tightened my grip on the railing until the cold metal bit into my palm.
    “Where is he?” I asked.
    “In the basement.”
    “Good.”
    I walked past Marcus without another word. He fell into step behind me.
    The lift descended smoothly. Stainless steel. No mirrors. I disliked reflections.
    The basement air was colder. Thicker. Concrete and iron. A single overhead light cast sharp shadows against the walls.
    A chair was placed at the centre of the room. I sat. My face mask in place.
    Seth Moore knelt between two guards. Sweat clung to his thinning hair. His expensive suit was wrinkled now, stained at the collar.
    “Seth Moore,” I said quietly, “I despise promise breakers.”
    “Mr Thorne, have mercy,” he begged, voice cracking.
    “Why should I?”
    “Dead men are useless to you,” he stammered.
    I leaned forward slightly. “What makes you think I care whether you are dead or alive?”
    He swallowed hard. “I will pay. I just need time.”
    “You are out of time.”
    He began rambling about former positions, future appointments, and companies that might still hire him as CEO. Words spilling like coins from a torn purse.
    “That ship has sailed,” I said.
    His breathing quickened. Panic sharpened his eyes.
    Then he said it.
    “I will give you my daughter. She will serve you. Do with her as you please.”
    The guards shifted slightly. Marcus did not move.
    “Human trafficking,” I said evenly.
    “No, no. Not trafficking. Service. She will work for you without pay while I raise the money. When I settle my debt, I will take her back.”
    I looked at him for a long moment.
    “Cut his finger,” I instructed.
    One of my men stepped forward.
    “Wait! Please!” Seth cried, fumbling inside his jacket. “Look at her first. Please. Look.”
    He held up a photograph with trembling fingers.
    I was not interested at first, but something about the image caught my attention.
    I raised my hand, and the guard paused.
    The image was slightly creased. Taken in poor light. A young woman stood stiffly in what looked like a kitchen doorway.
    Her hair was brunette, falling past her shoulders, down to her waist. Her eyes, green, sharp even in print, did not carry the softness of someone loved.
    Something was unsettling about the picture. I stared longer than necessary.
    She was not smiling, but she was not afraid either.
    She looked… resigned.
    And that disturbed me more than fear would have, but I still wanted to see this girl. This strange girl with green eyes.
    I lowered my hand slowly.
    “I accept your offer,” I said.
    Relief flooded Seth’s face so quickly it disgusted me.
    “Three days,” he pleaded. “Allow me to prepare her.”
    “Three days,” I agreed, and stood.
    As I walked towards the door, I gave Marcus a brief glance, and he understood.
    The first crack of the whip split the air just as I exited. Seth’s scream followed, muffled once the steel door shut behind me.
    I believe pain, when properly administered, is educational.
    “Sir,” Marcus said once we reached my home office level, “please tell me you are not truly considering this arrangement.”
    I removed my cufflinks slowly.
    “Are you questioning my judgement?”
    “No, my Lord. But she will be the only woman within these walls. Curiosity breeds speculation.”
    Women did not enter my space. They never had, and I had my reasons.
    “Are you saying security will fail?” I asked.
    “No.”
    “Then there is no problem.”
    He hesitated, which meant he was thinking beyond logistics.
    Only Marcus would dare.
    “She could expose…” He paused carefully. “Certain truths.”
    My gaze sharpened.
    “Are you incompetent, Marcus?”
    His jaw tightened. “Never.”
    “Then ensure she does not become a liability.”
    “Yes, my Lord.”
    As he turned to leave, I added, “I want everything about her. Every detail. And I want to know why her father offered her so easily.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    When the door closed, silence settled.
    My phone vibrated against the desk.
    “Father.”
    “The meeting is this weekend,” he said without greeting. “No excuses.”
    “Very well.”
    The line went dead.
    The Wilson alliance.
    A strategic merger disguised as marriage, to save their empire, which was bleeding quietly. Ours was not.
    Marissa Wilson.
    A woman I had seen from a distance once and only met once. She was well polished, educated, and impeccable.
    She had tried to get close upon meeting me for the first time. I quickly stepped back, keeping a distance between us, while keeping my father in the middle.
    Her perfume had been too sweet.
    Women unsettled me.
    Aside from my personal reason, at five years old, I learned that affection could be performance. My mother’s smile was reserved for rooms where my father stood watching. In private, her gaze was colder than any basement I owned.
    At six, I learned worse watching the woman I called my mother.
    That memory remained locked.
    Marcus was the only living person aware of my reaction towards women.
    I did not allow women close to me. I did not touch or entertain them. The idea of physical intimacy did not stir hunger in me.
    It stirred caution.
    In this world, control had been my solution.
    Marcus returned within the hour and placed a file on my desk.
    “Preliminary report on Delphina Moore. Also, the President has requested an audience.”
    So, that is her name. I thought.
    “I am not receiving him today.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    He left.
    I opened the file.
    Delphina Moore.
    Twenty years old.
    No formal education.
    Paper delivery.
    Domestic labour within her own household.
    No criminal record.
    No social footprint.
    Invisible.
    Her photograph, paper clipped to the front, was clearer than the one her father had shown me.
    In this image, she was younger. Perhaps eighteen. Standing slightly behind another girl, identical in age but not in physical appearance.
    Twin.
    The resemblance was biological, not emotional.
    One shone.
    One endured.
    “Interesting,” I murmured.
    Seth Moore had not offered his daughter.
    He had offered the spare.
    That detail lodged somewhere uncomfortable.
    In the Republic of Vaelorin, power had layers.
    Averelle City held the politicians. Marble buildings. Press conferences. Diplomacy rehearsed for cameras.
    The President signed documents.
    I decided which ones reached his desk.
    Draevik City held the money. Stock exchanges. Corporate towers. Conglomerates stitched together by invisible agreements.
    They all answered to someone.
    Me.
    Velmire Port City held what was never spoken aloud. Private docks. Restricted zones. Shipping manifests that changed before customs officers saw them.
    Officially, I was a businessman.
    Unofficially, I was the spine.
    Very few had seen my face.
    But they knew my name.
    And they feared it.
    I closed the file slowly.
    Why did her image unsettle me?
    It was not an attraction.
    I did not experience desire the way other men described it. I had listened to enough conversations in boardrooms and private clubs to understand that.
    Men spoke of women like acquisitions.
    I did not understand the impulse.
    But when I looked at Delphina Moore’s photograph, something shifted.
    Not hunger.
    Recognition.
    She looked like someone who had been managed. Contained. Silenced.
    I understood containment.
    Three days later, I sent my men.
    Marcus stood by my desk that afternoon.
    “Sir, are you certain?”
    “Is the second floor prepared?”
    “Yes.”
    The second floor of my private residence was a self-contained apartment. Two bedrooms. Kitchen. Security access limited.
    No woman had ever occupied that space.
    “She will remain there,” I instructed. “She may access the third floor only under supervision. Cleaning. Cooking. Nothing more.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And Marcus?”
    He paused.
    “She does not wander.”
    “Understood.”
    By mid-afternoon, I had completed two virtual negotiations and rejected a government proposal.
    “Sir,” Marcus announced, “she has arrived. She is sedated.”
    I looked up.
    A strange tension settled beneath my ribs.
    Good, I told myself.
    I stood.
    Marcus hesitated, as though considering speaking. He did not.
    We walked down the corridor.
    The second-floor door unlocked with a soft electronic click.
    The apartment was quiet.
    I stepped into the bedroom.
    She lay on the bed, unconscious. Brunette hair spread across the pillow like silk brushed with warm earth tones. Her hands rested loosely at her sides.
    She looked smaller than in the photograph.
    Less resigned.
    More fragile.
    The faint scent of antiseptic lingered in the air from the sedative.
    I stood at the foot of the bed.
    For a fraction of a second, warmth flickered beneath my skin, but gone before I could identify it.
    This was new.
    I had stood in rooms where governments negotiated their survival. I had ordered sanctions, dismantled companies, broken men.
    My heart had never altered its rhythm.
    Now it did.
    I moved closer despite myself.
    Her eyelashes trembled slightly in sleep. There was a faint bruise near her cheekbone.
    My jaw tightened.
    I wanted to reach out.
    The thought alone startled me.
    I do not touch.
    I do not reach.
    Experience had taught me that proximity often came with consequences.
    My hand lifted a fraction before I forced it back to my side.
    This is illogical, I told myself.
    She is leverage. Nothing more.
    Yet something about her stillness made the room feel unfamiliar.
    Uncontrolled.
    “Sir?” Marcus’s voice came from behind me, careful.
    I stepped back immediately.
    “Let’s go,” I said.
    I left the room as though it were the source of heat and I had stood too close to the flame.
    Once the door shut, I exhaled slowly.
    For the first time in years, I felt something dangerously close to fear.
    Not of her.
    Of myself.
    I had faced nations without flinching.
    Yet a sleeping girl had unsettled the architecture of my control.

    Sold to the Devil’s Empire novel Chapter 3

    Delphina’s POV
    I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was a ceiling I did not recognise.
    For a moment, I did not move. I simply stared. Pale. Smooth. No crack. Nothing like the storage room I spent countless nights in. The fruit fragrance of the room hit me next. My heart jolted, and I pushed myself upright too quickly.
    My body quickly recognised the softness of the bed. The mattress dipped beneath me. My balance faltered, and I scrambled backwards, tangling in unfamiliar sheets before tumbling off the bed entirely, and ending up on the floor.
    The floor was smooth hardwood, cool against my palms.
    I looked up.
    The room was clean.
    Very clean.
    Cream walls. White sheets pulled tight and unwrinkled. My nose picked up the fruit scent, lemon and coconut, it lingered in the air, subtle but deliberate. Nothing like the damp storage room I had slept in for years, where mildew clung to the corners, and the only scent was dust and old wood.
    My breathing grew shallow.
    Is this Evander Thorne’s house? Or did someone rescue me?
    I stood to my feet and took a good look at the room. The bed stood neatly at the centre, dressed in white sheets, so crisp it almost glowed in the filtered daylight. A wardrobe stood against the far wall. Closed. Polished.
    There were no bars on the windows, only a beautiful white and grey drape decorated them.
    No visible restraints.
    This did not look like a prison.
    If it was, this was one hell of a comfortable prison.
    The door opened before I could steady myself.
    I froze.
    An average-height man stepped inside. Dark hair, precisely groomed. Suit pressed without a crease. He carried himself with quiet authority, not hurried, not uncertain.
    Is that him?
    I stayed half-crouched beside the bed, painfully aware of the state of my clothes. Faded. Worn. I looked like dirt that had been dropped into a showroom.
    “Delphina Moore,” he said evenly. “Good. You are awake.”
    His voice was controlled, measured.
    “Please,” I blurted, scrambling to my feet. “I can’t stay here. Please let me go.”
    “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” He placed a file neatly on the bed. “I am here to assign your duties.”
    Duties. He can’t be Evander Thorne.
    “For your sake, I hope you can read,” he added calmly. “Ensure you understand everything on the paper. Your work begins at six a.m. tomorrow.”
    “My work?” I echoed.
    But he was already turning away.
    The door shut with a soft mechanical click.
    Locked.
    The quiet that followed was heavier than the words.
    The rumours about Evander Thorne echoed in my mind.
    Ruthless. Untouchable. Dangerous. Hates women. A man who could erase a life without consequence.
    I approached the bed slowly and picked up the file.
    Household duties.
    Every task listed with military precision. Start time. Finish time. Allocated minutes for each task, and each room meant to be cleaned.
    Six a.m. to six p.m each day.
    “I was brought here to be a housekeeper?” I whispered.
    The word felt too simple for the transaction that had delivered me here.
    I moved to the wardrobe and opened it.
    Uniforms.
    Black dresses with white collars. Crisp aprons. Identical. Lined up in silent expectation.
    On the other side were five sets of pyjamas.
    All my size.
    My fingers tightened around the paper.
    He knew.
    My father had not spoken blindly. This had been arranged.
    I shut the wardrobe and pushed open the inner door.
    A bathroom.
    My own.
    White tiles. A glass shower. Clean towels folded with symmetry.
    At home, I bathed outside behind the kitchen window, beneath the standing pipe. My parents had their bedroom with a bathroom. Ceilia had hers.
    I was not permitted in the bathrooms designated for families.
    And yet here, in the house of the most feared man in the country, I had a private one.
    Mr Thorne might be a terrible man, but he provided well for his servants.
    Servant.
    The word settled in my chest.
    I returned to the bedroom just as the door unlocked again.
    The same man stepped inside.
    “I require your thumbprint on several documents,” he said, approaching.
    I instinctively stepped back.
    “Delphina,” he said quietly, and there was warning beneath the calm. “Do not make this difficult.”
    He took my right hand firmly but not roughly, pressed my thumb onto an ink pad, then opened the file.
    Oath of Secrecy.
    The bold heading burned into my vision before he flipped to the final page.
    He reached for my hand again. I pulled it back.
    “Delphina.”
    My name in his mouth felt less like a call and more like a command. He took my thumb and pressed it onto the signature line.
    “There,” he said.
    “What is this?” I asked, my voice thinner than I intended.
    “It is an Oath of Secrecy,” he replied. “This is Lord Evander Thorne’s empire. Nothing you see or hear leaves this building.”
    He held my gaze.
    “If information becomes public, the agreed punishment will be carried out.”
    He paused.
    “Death.”
    The word did not rise in volume. It did not need to. Cold spread through my limbs. My breath shortened.
    “I, I don’t know how to clean properly,” I managed, looking at how clean the environment was and recalling how my mum constantly tells me I suck at cleaning. “There must be someone better suited.”
    “Your father has already collected payment for your service.”
    Payment.
    He left before I could speak again.
    The door locked.
    My knees gave way.
    Payment.
    Was I sold? Or I am working, and they are collecting the payment?
    I pressed my hand against my mouth to stop the sound that threatened to escape.
    My diary.
    Ceilia was holding it. She told them about my plan to leave.
    My father would rather sell me to the country’s most feared man than allow me freedom.
    I forced myself upright.
    “No. I will get out of here,” I whispered.
    I just needed time. Study the environment, and I can plan my escape.
    But then another thought struck.
    If I leave, he will find me. If he cannot find me, he will find them.
    I lowered my lashes in defeat. They may have treated me like an inconvenience, but they were still my family.
    I exhaled slowly, steadying myself.
    Fine.
    I will work. I will learn the terms. I will complete whatever period is required.
    And then I will leave properly.
    My father has said that this was to seal a deal. The man who just left said I was here to render service. It must be temporary.
    The door unlocked again.
    Another man entered with a tray and placed it silently on a desk near the window. Only then did I notice the subtle extension of the room, a small dining nook tucked behind heavy curtains.
    He was dressed differently. Nothing like the man who had come in earlier.
    “Thank you,” I said instinctively.
    He did not respond.
    The bowl revealed a chicken Caesar salad. Fresh. Crisp. Real food.
    I ate without hesitation.
    Afterwards, I showered. The hot water stunned my skin. I stood beneath it longer than necessary, letting it wash years of cold baths from memory.
    I changed into one of the pyjamas and slid into the bed.
    The sheets were impossibly soft and comfortable.
    I closed my eyes, and sleep took over.
    When the shock of cold water hit my face, I gasped and shot upright. The same man stood over me, holding an empty glass.
    “You were to be ready at five fifty,” he said. “It is now six.”
    My heart pounded.
    “You have five minutes.”
    He left.
    I wiped water from my face, breathing unevenly.
    Comfort had made me careless.
    I dressed quickly, pulling on the uniform. The black dress fit perfectly. The white collar lay sharp against my throat. I tied my hair into a tight ponytail and approached the door.
    Locked.
    The moment I stepped back, it clicked open.
    He was waiting.
    “Follow me,” he said.
    We walked through a corridor lined with neutral walls. We entered a lift and ascended.
    The third floor opened into something that felt less like a home and more like a luxury hotel lobby. Polished floors. Controlled lighting. Everything arranged with intention.
    He knocked on the door before opening it.
    “Wait.”
    He disappeared briefly and returned with cleaning supplies.
    Broom. Mop. Cloths. Dusters. Bucket.
    “I expect every room to be immaculate. You have thirty minutes.”
    He turned to leave, then paused.
    “Do not go to the top floor.”
    He did not explain, but I nodded.
    I began cleaning.
    The rooms were expansive, far larger than necessary. Bedrooms with private sitting areas. Bathrooms bigger than entire sections of my former home. I was able to enter all rooms except one. It was locked.
    Half an hour was not enough. I worked quickly, pulse steadying as routine replaced panic.
    Then I saw the staircase.
    It curved upwards discreetly, almost hidden.
    The top floor.
    He had said not to go there.
    I hesitated only a second before climbing out of curiosity.
    The air felt cooler.
    I reached the landing and stopped.
    Through a glass partition, I saw a man.
    Shirtless.
    The waistband of dark training trousers rested low against his narrow waist. His skin was pale but defined, lean muscle etched with quiet precision.
    He held a weighted bar attached to a chain, pulling it down towards his waist in controlled repetition.
    The muscles in his back tightened and released with each measured pull.
    There was nothing frantic in the movement.
    No aggression.
    No display.
    He did not look like a man who needed to prove his strength.
    He looked like one who measured it.
    My breath caught, not from attraction, but from awareness.
    Was that him?
    I continued to stare.
    This was a man of discipline.
    Of calculation.
    He paused mid-repetition, head tilting slightly.
    As though he sensed something.
    “Breaking rules on your first day?”
    The voice came from behind me.
    I jolted, spinning so quickly my shoulder struck the wall. My hand flew to my chest.
    The man from earlier stood on the staircase, watching me.
    “Marcus,” he said evenly, as though offering a courtesy. “I suggest you remember that name.”
    I swallowed.
    “I, I’m sorry.”
    When I glanced back through the glass, the room was empty.
    He was gone.
    And somehow that was worse.

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