9134 Book(s) Related to prisoner of the cursed alpha

Three years ago, I took off the ring and became a mechanic, just to keep a promise to my brother — to protect his widow and daughter.

Three years later, Connor from Brooklyn tried to force my brother's daughter into marriage, blacklisted me from every job, and had the hospital turn away my sister-in-law.

They thought I was just some grease monkey.

They didn't know the ring had a lion carved on it.

When I put it back on...

The entire underworld of New York would tremble.

I died betrayed on my wedding altar.
The silver blade in my sister's hand felt colder than our shared childhood. My "fated mate" Kaelen held me down as she carved out my heart—a sacrifice for his ambition.
In my final breath, I saw him: Fenrir, the half-blood guard I'd scorned, breaking through a wall of spears to reach me. Silver arrows pierced his chest mid-leap, but his dying eyes held no blame—only a loyalty that followed me into darkness.
The Moon Goddess heard my dying vow.
Now I'm back, standing where it all began—the mate choosing ceremony. Kaelen expects me to declare him again. My sister waits to play her victim.
But this time, I walk past the golden Alpha and kneel before the broken slave.
"Rise," I whisper, lifting his chin. "The real Luna has come home."
And when they laugh at my choice, they don't see what I do: the ancient power stirring beneath his skin, the king waiting to be awakened.
Let them call him monster. Let them call me mad.
We'll show them what happens when a betrayed Luna and a fallen king unite.
The altar awaits its true sacrifice—and it won't be me this time.

She saved her husband with scorched flesh, raised her son with dying breath, yet was abandoned, insulted, and left to freeze in the snow. When she vanished into the deep sea, all the liars finally got their cruel karma.

After a forbidden night, maid Elara conceives twins for ruthless mafia Don Asher. To shield her from deadly power struggles, he fakes cruelty and puts a bounty on her head. Trapped in the murderous manor, she hides her pregnancy to survive. Cornered and hunted, she leaps into the frozen river to save her babies. After narrowly surviving childbirth, she becomes Asher’s lifelong obsession. The cold-blooded king burns all enemies, drops every pride, and kneels to atone for his sins forever.

For twenty years, Belle Sloan believed she had the perfect life, a loving husband, a devoted son, and a powerful business empire. But one shocking revelation shatters everything. The son she raised isn't hers. Her husband and stepsister have secretly loved each other for years. And the family she sacrificed everything for was nothing more than a carefully crafted lie.

For six years, Mara gave Elias her time, her labor, and her love. After a miscarriage, a broken heirloom, and one betrayal too many, she stopped asking him to see her pain. When he came begging for another chance, all he found was the woman she had become without him.

The year Caleb loved me more than anything, he cut all ties with the entire Donovan mafia family, gave up his heir title, and ran away from New York with me to live on the lam out of state.
But one day, after hauling contraband and working three side jobs till his heart flared up and he coughed up blood, I took the six-million-dollar check his mom handed me and watched as his family’s guards dragged him onto a private helicopter.
He clung tight to the cabin frame, begging me not to leave like a man losing his mind.
I tossed every last dollar he’d scraped and saved for me right into the freezing pool, sneering that the tiny amount he’d managed to earn would never buy me a Steinway grand—not in a million years.
A dead-broke wreck like him had no right to talk about a future together.
Five years later, we crossed paths at an upscale charity gala.
I swallowed every ounce of my pride and begged him to lend me a sum of cash.
He said yes—on one condition. I’d be the private pianist for his engagement party, forced to sit there and watch him live out his perfect engagement for everyone to see.
I agreed without a second thought.
He’d never have the slightest clue why I was desperate for that money.
It was all to save a little girl.
A little girl who shared his blood.

At 2:00 AM, I lay in bed with my eyes closed, my fingers digging desperately into the flesh of my inner thigh.

Crack... Crunch... A stomach-churning sound of dislocating bones drifted from the foot of the bed. Immediately after, a cloying stench of dead fish rolled over the mattress.

A cold, stiff finger traced my jawline and pressed down hard on my carotid artery. It was feeling for a pulse.

"Darling..."

A bizarre, dual-layered echo came from directly above my head. A cold, bloody drop of meat juice smacked right onto my eyelid.

But I didn't dare let my breathing falter for even a fraction of a beat.

Because I knew—the thing currently staring dead at me, hanging upside down from the ceiling like a spider with its limbs bent backward, was absolutely not the wife I had spent the last ten years with.

After our son died in a fire, I lost my voice for half a year due to extreme trauma.
In order to "cure" me, my husband listened to the instigations of a manipulative woman. He became convinced our son wasn't his, publicly dumped our son's ashes down the drain, and threw me to five drunk men to do as they pleased.
He sneered and locked the front door: "Do whatever you want with her. She is already dead to me."
He thought this extreme "exposure therapy" would force me to kneel and beg for his forgiveness.
Little did he know, when that door opened again, the one who took me away was a Wall Street tycoon he could never afford to offend in this lifetime.
Half a month later, when he finally learned that everything was the other woman's scam, he knelt in the rain like a madman, begging me to come home.
But I just hid in the arms of my immensely powerful new husband and calmly handed him a court summons.

Five years ago, I pulled a dying man from the depths of the ocean.
His name was Silas. When he woke up, he looked me in the eye and swore he'd marry me, that he'd protect me for the rest of his life.
I believed him.
I hid it from my clan, shed my tail, and followed him to land. I bore him a daughter—Winnie. I kept myself locked away in a villa, out of sight from the world. No wedding. No ring. Even the mermaid scales on Winnie's legs had to be covered up with layers and layers of concealer.
Until that night at the banquet. Zoe and her goons pinned us both to the tile by the pool, scraping the scales off Winnie's legs with a knife, sneering that this "filth" was such an eyesore.
I stroked her mangled calf, desperate for Silas to come save us. But Zoe said Silas was her fiancé.
Silas? Her fiancé?
Then what the hell am I?

I was always a clingy girlfriend, something my online boyfriend seemed to eat right up. That is, until my brother's birthday dinner. I noticed his pretty-boy roommate's phone lit up the exact second I sent a text.

My brother chuckled. "She's been texting you non-stop all night. Doesn't it annoy you?"

The roommate barely looked at his screen. "Annoying," he muttered.

My thumbs froze over the keyboard.

You're right. I expanded your line without being asked — that was my mistake.

Here's the corrected version, keeping your line tight and matched in length:

I died for the mate bond.

In my past life, I choked on my own blood in the snow, taking a silver bullet for Kael. My reward? He married Seraphina over my fresh grave.

Never again.

Now, standing alive in the packhouse, I stared at the man I once died for.

"I reject you, Elara. You're a pathetic Omega," Kael spat, his lip curling in front of the entire pack. "You will never be my Luna."

He wanted tears. He expected me to break. Instead, I wiped a smear of blood from my split lip and gave him a razor-sharp smile. "I accept your rejection."

The crowd froze. But the silence didn't last.

A suffocating aura slammed into the room, dropping wolves to their knees. The heavy oak doors splintered open. Silas. The bloodthirsty Alpha King of the North.

He ignored the bowing elites and walked straight up to me. His burning gaze pinned me in place.

"Since the guy threw you away," Silas rumbled, a grin splitting his face, "From this second on, you are mine."

I spent five years living as a benevolent saint and healer, beloved and praised across the realm. But a sudden summons from the Rose Duke pulled me into the cruel, scheming world of the nobility. Plagued by my fake sister’s malice, ridiculed by arrogant nobles, and exploited by the royal family, my peaceful pretense finally shattered. The moment my mentor’s seal broke, my dormant, demonic curse powers awakened at last. Holiness is only my mask; curses are my deadliest secret. Standing side by side with the forbearing, hidden cursed prince, I tore apart the royal family’s hypocritical lies and taught every soul who dared to underestimate me: the gentlest saint can wield the darkest, most unforgiving power.

Before I died, I married mob boss Dante in my sister's place.

Five years of marriage, and I was nothing but her replacement. He hated me for stealing her spot. My parents were ashamed I couldn't make him love me. Everyone just waited for her to come back.

Christmas Eve—fire tore through the mountain estate. Dante's first move? Sprint straight to my sister, fresh off the plane. My parents escaped right behind him. Nobody remembered the pregnant wife locked in the dressing room. Smoke and flames took me and my baby while they held each other outside, celebrating they'd made it out alive.

I opened my eyes on the day they cornered me with divorce papers.

My parents threw the documents at me. My sister stood there smirking, ready to slide into my place. This time? I didn't cry. Didn't beg. I picked up the pen and signed.

They wanted me gone? Done.

The apocalypse has arrived, but I am merely the villainous master in a doomsday novel.

The mission given to me by the system is to humiliate my kind-hearted fiancée, Avery.

Looking at the only dry rations left before us, I stomped them into pieces right in front of all the wasteland refugees, grinding them into the muddy ice and snow with the sole of my shoe, and commanded condescendingly:

"Bitch, lick it clean."

Instead of running away, she trembled and knelt before me submissively, lifting her head with a look of near-morbid attachment burning in her eyes.

Wait a minute, didn't the original script say she would become my mortal enemy?

Why is she kissing me?

For five years, my crime boss husband made me take off my wedding ring nine times—all for his precious damsel in distress.
When we first married, he promised me: "From now on, you're my queen, the queen of New Orleans."
But whenever Odette came crying for help, he'd change his tune: "Mr. Laurent saved my life, Cordelia. I owe his family everything."
And like a fool, I believed him eight times.
Eight times I watched from the shadows as he took another woman to our favorite restaurants.
Eight times I explained to the crew that our "separation" was just giving each other space.
Eight times I watched her move into my bedroom, use my dishes, sleep in my bed.
All for a man who kept making me slip off my ring, then slide it back on, over and over again.
Until the ninth time, when he said he needed to provide sperm for her fertility treatment, and I offered to leave.
He still thinks this is just another temporary break, expecting me to come crawling back in a month like always.
He'll never know I've already booked my ticket out of here.

Twenty-five years of being overlooked.
My husband Steven prefers my best friend Liliana, and my son Terry and grandson Roy treat me like a maid.
I thought I could endure this life forever, but when Steven gave my dream trip to Liliana, I couldn't take it anymore.
I decided to leave and stop wanting their love.

The day I won the competition, my sister's heart "failed," and she could never stand again.

From that moment, she claimed all the favoritism.

Looking at my wall of honors, she sat in her wheelchair, heartbroken: "Chloe is so amazing, unlike me—just a burden who could die any moment."

My brother's heart ached for her. He grabbed a baseball bat and smashed all my trophies to pieces, defending her honor.

When I was selected as dance troupe captain, tears streamed down her face: "If I hadn't gotten sick, could I have shined on the Lincoln Center stage too?"

My parents turned to scold me for showing off, drugging me before the audition and ruining my chances.

Later, she had a breakdown and went live on Instagram, swallowing pills while sobbing that she didn't deserve love.

My childhood sweetheart, my fiancé, rushed to her side immediately. He dropped to one knee and slipped my diamond engagement ring onto her finger.

Later, I was killed by an armed robber. As I lay dying, I made one last desperate call for help.

He hung up impatiently:

"Mia needs me to hold her hand during her IV treatment. Stop being so fucking unreasonable!"

When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my sister's heart "failed."

As the New Year's Eve bells were about to toll, my fiancé, Tristan, slid an annulment agreement in front of me.
 
"Blair's New Year's wish is to experience an engagement. Just play along. After tonight, we'll reinstate our engagement."
 
Wearing my custom engagement gown, Blair looked at me with red-rimmed eyes and a pout.
 
"Sienna, if you really mind, let's just forget it. With my failing health, who knows if I'll even live to see next year..."
 
Tristan immediately grasped her hand with heartache, then turned to glare at me. "Could you stop being so selfish for once?"
 
Throughout our three-year relationship, I had compromised time and time again, all because of his favorite excuse: "She's been sickly since childhood. As her childhood friend, I promised to grant her one New Year's wish every year."
 
My fingers brushed against the ultrasound photo in my pocket—the pregnancy confirmation I hadn't yet had the chance to show him. Looking at the face of the man I had loved for three years, I felt like an absolute joke.
 
"Fine, you both have my blessing."
 
I took the pen and signed my name without a hint of hesitation.
 
The stolen dress, along with my fiancé—I didn't want either of them anymore.

Caspian kept me locked in the basement as a living blood bank.
This mafia don was also my husband. Ever since he discovered I could heal instantly, I became nothing more than a consumable—kept alive to sustain another woman.
That woman in the hospital bed was his stepmother in name, his forbidden obsession in reality—the desire he could never speak aloud.
Unable to claim her, he went mad. He tried to fill her dying body with my life.
When she was poisoned, he forced toxins down my throat to test antidotes, watching coldly as I convulsed on the floor, vomiting black blood.
When assassins came for her, he yanked me in front as a human shield, letting bullets turn my body into a sieve.
Covered in blood, I clutched his pant leg, begging through tears for him to just kill me.
But to protect his precious stepmother, he kicked me away without hesitation, his voice utterly cold: "Stop playing dead, Aria. You're a monster. You can't die anyway."
What he didn't know was that every time a mermaid heals, she burns through her soul's essence.
Through each shattering and mending, he was draining my very source of life.
Today, he strapped me to the operating table again, ready to drain more blood for his forbidden love.
He had no idea this would be the last time.

For five years, Alpha Ethan hid Maya—the mate he had marked and the Luna his pack never knew existed.
Whenever he abandoned her for another woman, he gave Maya a blood-signed token promising her anything she desired.
After his hundredth broken promise, Maya finally used them.
Not for wealth. Not for revenge.
She asked to dissolve their mate bond and leave his pack forever.
Only when the bond shattered did Ethan realize what he had lost. But beyond his borders, the feared Rogue Alpha was already waiting to offer Maya everything Ethan never did:
A home. A family. And the chance to become someone’s first choice.

In that luxury cruise ship fire that shocked the world, my husband Gordon Mercer—the ship's captain—pried open my bloodied fingers and fastened the last intact life vest onto his first love.
In my past life, he locked me inside the blazing cabin. First, the flames devoured me. Then, as the ship broke apart, the icy ocean swallowed me whole. I drowned in the depths.
When I opened my eyes again, I'd returned to that life-or-death moment—the ship about to sink, alarms tearing through the night.
Watching Gordon clutch that trembling woman in his arms, I didn't break down sobbing like before. I didn't beg.
Instead, I laughed coldly and threw the life vest at their feet.
"Since you two are so desperate to die together, go right ahead."

Five years ago, on my wedding day, my fiancé Vincent fucked my best friend in the bridal suite.

Five years later, I returned to New York with my husband—the most powerful Mafia boss in Naples. At Atelier Milano, my former best friend Bianca circled my custom gown like a vulture, pestering the staff about meeting the legendary Mrs. Salvatore.

She had no idea the woman she pitied as a pathetic nobody was the very person she was dying to impress.

I saved a dying mobster three years ago. Vincent Ricci—New York's most feared Godfather.

He decided I was his. Private jets, five-million-dollar proposals, the whole nine yards. I fell for it.

The night before our wedding, his enemies took me. Three days of torture left me blind. Everyone said he'd never marry damaged goods. He married me anyway and spent three years treating me like a queen.

Yesterday I fell down the stairs and my sight came back.

But that's when I found out about my perfect husband's dirty secret.

Because of his grandfather's dying wish, Supreme Court Chief Justice Garrick Vance—the most powerful beast-shifter in the city—was forced to marry me, a human court clerk who had secretly loved him for years.

For six years we pretended to be strangers at work while he remained ice-cold toward me and our daughter Wren at home. When his celebrity ex-girlfriend Seraphina returned from overseas, I watched him come alive for another woman—attending her parties, rushing to her side at midnight.

Meanwhile, our five-year-old daughter waited every night for a father who never came home.

The day Wren nearly died from his careless gift, I finally signed the mate bond dissolution papers.

This time, he's lost us forever.

The loan sharks who kidnapped us wanted payment for my twin sister's gambling debts—in blood.

When my FBI negotiator father showed up with his tactical team, he found Lily with a paper cut, crying her heart out. I was dying from a gunshot wound in a basement below.

I called him with my dying breath: "Dad, please send help. I'm bleeding out."

"Are you kidding me right now, Emily? Your sister just went through hell, and you're pulling this pathetic stunt for attention? How sick are you?"

He hung up. I died alone, dismissed as a liar.

Three days later, they found my body. And the truth that came with it burned their perfect world to ash.

I thought I was marrying the New York Godfather out of love. I didn't know I was just a walking blood bank for his fake 'savior'—my illegitimate half-sister.

My father, my brother, my husband... they bled me dry, framed me, and even demanded my unborn baby's cord blood to keep a murderer alive.

When I finally learned the truth, I didn't cry. I didn't scream.
I simply locked the doors, scheduled the emails that would shatter their reality, and left them a charred corpse in a towering sea of fire.

They thought they watched me burn. I let them descent into absolute madness.

"Stop—Daniel, the fk are you doing! I came here to learn to swim, not get fked!"
In the pool, because my kicks were all wrong, Daniel—my husband's cousin—told me to wrap my legs around his waist to "feel the rhythm."
Except I was wearing that scarlet bikini Vincent shoved me into—practically nothing. Even worse, Daniel's rk-hard ck in those thin trunks was jammed right up against my py.
Every time he kicked, that thing dragged right over my ct, like it was about to shove straight inside.

The morning of our wedding, Dante Russo led the hit that wiped out my family.
Branded a traitor, stripped of my name, I spent three years scrubbing blood from dog kennels at the docks. I lost my hands, my music, and three babies I never got to hold.
Then I learned the truth: there was no hit. My parents and the man I loved staged it all—to teach me a lesson, because my adopted sister Isabella cried that I’d hurt her.
Now Dante is marrying Isabella. And he wants me there on my knees, pouring her champagne.
I said yes.
But I bled out on the concrete the night before.
They think I’m sulking. They smash everything I ever gave them to punish me for not showing up.
And when my body is finally wheeled into their wedding in a black bag, the most dangerous men in Gotham City will learn what they’ve done.
Too late.

"You sure dispatch called this... natural causes?" I gripped the steering wheel, staring at the perfect suburban house.
"That's what they said," Gates muttered. The victim's father, Arthur, stood at the door in pressed khakis, weeping.
He swore his daughter, Grace, died in her sleep last night after eating vanilla pudding.
But the moment we stepped inside, a suffocating cocktail of cheap lavender spray and rotting meat punched me in the sinuses.
In the living room, SpongeBob SquarePants was blasting at maximum volume. Grace was slumped in a recliner. When Gates gently pinched her wrist to lift her arm, a sickeningly soft, tearing rip echoed in the room.
Her grayish skin completely degloved, fused to the leather armrest. Beneath the liquefied muscle tissue, frantic rows of tiny white maggots wriggled into the exposed bone.
A body that died "last night" doesn't breed maggots.

"Whoever left that wild strawberry scent on my bed is dead," the severely germaphobic captain posted.
I froze. It was me.
Now, my idiot brother just locked me in Ronan's room to pay off a debt. Ronan ignored my boyish disguise. Leaning in, his nose brushed my hood.
"Wild strawberry," he whispered, a dangerous smirk forming. "It WAS you."

My mother-in-law, Dorothy, sneered that I dressed like a janitor. My husband, Adrian, called my design sketches "a waste of fabric." Even the son I carried for nine months called me an embarrassment, saying he wished his dad’s secretary, Madison, was his mother.
For eight long years, I was nothing but an unpaid maid in this house.
Until today, when the doctor told me severe exhaustion was causing my heart to fail. And my eight-year-old son just pointed at the bag of medicine in my hand, shrieking, "You just have a headache! Why are you wasting money on medicine?"
I didn't argue. I didn't cry. I went home, opened the bottom drawer of Adrian’s desk, and signed the divorce papers he had been secretly preparing.
In their wildest dreams, they could never imagine that the sole trigger condition for my late mother's $50 million trust fund was for me to leave this man.

My husband suffered a massive heart attack mid-thrust inside my best friend.

Now, the ER doctors are clutching his surgical consent forms, waiting for me—the legal wife—to sign.

Over the phone, my mother-in-law shrieked in absolute despair while my best friend sobbed in terror.

I turned a deaf ear to them, taking my time to admire my makeup in the mirror.

There was absolutely no rush. Waiting until I changed into this pitch-black mourning dress to slowly watch his countdown to death wouldn't be too late.

After all, when my parents and my son, Noah, were lying in the morgue, I survived a dead-silent night exactly like this one, shedding tears until my eyes literally bled dry.

Now, it is finally my husband's turn to go to hell and atone for my family.

My ex-boyfriend told me to divorce my "nobody" husband to become his secret mistress, completely unaware that my husband is the Supreme Mafia Godfather.
"Divorce that loser, Valeria. I'm a Capo now. I can give you the world," Gideon smirked, tossing a cheap gala pass at my feet.
I looked at the coward who abandoned me in a shootout three years ago and actually laughed. Give up my throne as the Donna of North America’s most powerful syndicate to be a street thug's dirty secret?
At the Blood Oath Gala, I'll show him that I am no longer the woman I was three years ago.

When my parents forced me to donate my organs to my sister, I didn't refuse or run away. I just quietly signed the surgical consent forms, willingly giving my kidney to Vivienne, their beloved daughter.

A few months ago, my sister was hospitalized with kidney failure. The doctor said she needed a transplant. My family's first thought was me—the backup daughter they'd kept around all these years.

When my husband Allen took my hand with tears in his eyes and said, "Only you can save her," I agreed without hesitation.

When the doctor explained the surgical risks and potential complications, I smiled and nodded my understanding.

My parents said I'd finally learned what sisterly love meant.

Even Allen, who'd always been cold to me, held my hand gently and said, "The surgery's safe. You're so healthy, nothing will go wrong. When you recover, I'll take you to Hawaii."

But they don't know that no matter how the surgery goes, I won't be around to celebrate.

Because I just got my own test results—I have terminal brain cancer. I'm going to die anyway.

To marry Vincent Romano, I survived twenty-eight near-death experiences over five years.
The first: city hall's foundation collapsed — three broken ribs. The second: a truck rollover — my right leg nearly amputated. The twenty-seventh: a chandelier in the bridal shop, three days unconscious.
All of Seren City laughed at me. Romano's most cursed bride-to-be. Yet I loved him still.
Until the twenty-eighth time.
When the bomb detonated outside city hall, I threw myself over Vincent on instinct. The blast shifted my organs and shredded my back. The day my stitches came out, I felt no relief at having survived.
Because I stood outside the study and heard his voice.
"Her organs were badly damaged. She almost actually died." Antonio's horror was audible. "Vincent, you used to treat her so well—"
"People change." A pause, then quieter: "I did want to marry her once. But before Amelia, I had no idea what it meant to truly want someone. I acknowledge the debt — I just can't spend my life repaying it." Another pause. "Father won't agree, and she won't let go easily."
"So." His voice turned to ice. "The only clean way out is to make her give up on her own. As long as Cassandra refuses to break the engagement, the accidents must continue. Until she walks away."

I bought my five-year-old son a Captain America shield for his birthday.

But when I landed in New York, the hospital called.

"Your son died during the medical procedure your husband authorized."

Marcus had signed Axel up as a living donor. For his mistress's kid.

While our baby bled out on the operating table, Marcus was cutting birthday cake with his new family.

Even used Axel's favorite Superman pillow as decoration.

I stared at my child's mutilated corpse and made a promise.

You fed my baby to wolves for a whore's smile. Time to return the favor, Marcus.

After Ava lost her voice in a car crash, my brother fled the country overnight.
My parents begged me to take his place and honor the engagement.
For three years, I stayed by her side. I took care of her, helped her through rehab, and waited for the day she could finally speak again.
But at our wedding, my brother came back to stop it.
In front of everyone, my parents pressured me to step aside. "You were only filling in for Ethan in the first place. Now that he's back, it's time to give his fiancée back."
Ava stopped walking toward me and, without a second thought, ran straight into my brother's arms.
Later, she tried to smooth things over in private. She said it was only to test my brother's intentions, and promised that in the end, she would still marry me.
She thought I'd stay right where I was, like I had for the past three years, waiting for scraps.
What she didn't know was that I had already accepted the Godfather's secret appointment. That very night, I boarded a helicopter bound for the North District.
Now that the man she never got over was back, it was time for me to claim the underground empire that belonged to me.

I am just a simple florist making an honest living. Yet, somehow, the city's untouchable elites keep suffering horrific, freak accidents right after someone buys my flowers. The police know I'm involved, but they can't prove a thing. After all, how much damage can a few blooming petals really do?

I was Elara, a wingless half-sprite. The lowest of the low in the Obsidian Court. My job was to clean up the mess left by the dragons.
But right now, the biggest mess was inside my own stomach.
I was pregnant. With the Dragon King's child.
He didn't remember that night. He only remembered waking alone — and swearing to crush whoever had touched him into dust.
So I said nothing. I served him. I hid. And the three little voices only I could hear kept whispering the one thing I couldn't believe: that scary dragon is soft on you, girl.
Then my belly began to leak his golden aura, and his jealous betrothed smelled it first.
When the King learned the truth, he didn't rage. He looked at my stomach and said the child could not stay.
He never told me why.
So while he was away at war, I climbed onto the Sky Bridge over the endless Void — and I jumped. Better to fall than to let them take my baby.
I never expected something down there to catch me.

During a luxury cruise, Lydia is drugged, blacks out, and wakes in the hands of Ethan, a notorious arms dealer, the most feared name in the UK, and a whispered warning across Europe.

He catches her by the ribbon in her hair and turns her escape into a dead end, yet he never takes her life.

While everyone waits for the moment she breaks, Ethan clasps a bracelet around her wrist, a mark she never manages to remove.

"They say you'll redeem me," he murmurs, voice dangerously low as he tilts her chin up. "But I only want to lock you away forever."

He thinks he's playing a game of conquest. Instead, he's the one who surrenders. Until the day he kneels, blood on his hands, a ring held out like a confession.

"Good girl," he breathes. "Call me 'honey.' Stay with me, forever."

I'd sacrificed everything—my savings, my future—to rescue a memoryless man from the twisted wreckage of his car. Day by day, we developed feelings for each other. He slipped a simple silver ring onto my finger, calling me his sole comfort, the only light in his life.
However, the light was violently extinguished the day his true wife burst into the hospital. Her bodyguards slamming me against the wall was just the beginning. As the blows rained down, I learned his real identity: Ethan Vance, the heir of the richest family in the L City.
The most damning evidence was their marriage certificate, issued two years before we had met. The ultimate betrayal came as his wife deliberately snapped my fingers and stripped me of my last shred of dignity. He saw it all with icy detachment, then turned and pulled her close. "Lana doesn’t need to be reasonable. I’m the one backing her ".

In the delivery room, several nurses pinned me down on the operating table.

They were going to forcibly take my eight-month-old baby out of me.

The pain was tearing me apart. I locked my eyes on my husband Xavier Davis, who was standing to the side, and screamed at him in a hoarse voice.

"You animal! That's your child too. How can you do this to him..."

Xavier stared at me, his face completely blank. He didn't say a single word.

"Hurry up! Mia needs the cord blood!"

Julia, standing next to Xavier, snapped impatiently at the doctor.

She was Xavier's stepmother, only two years older than him. Her husband had died not long after she got pregnant, and Xavier had been taking care of her ever since.

Recently, Julia's one-year-old daughter was diagnosed with leukemia. She needed a newborn's cord blood for a transplant, so she set her sights on my baby.

And Xavier agreed to it. That was when I found out the two of them had been sleeping together for a long time.

Julia had nearly bled to death giving birth to their daughter, and lost any chance of having another child.

"What's going on? Her water already broke. Why isn't the baby coming?" The doctor was sweating with anxiety.

Julia picked up a pair of scissors and handed them to the doctor, her voice completely casual.

"Just cut open her uterus. Then the baby comes out."

My eyes went wide with shock. I shook my head desperately. "No. Please, no..."

I was born the true heiress of the powerful Voss family, but after being swapped at birth and failing to awaken my wolf, I was branded as worthless trash.
For six years, I worked as a "Scavenger" in the underground slums. I hauled mutant corpses, endured silver poisoning, and swallowed cheap suppressants—all to pay off my husband’s massive debts and buy the cure for my brother’s fatal blood disease.
Today, I finally handed my brother the life-saving medicine. 
He casually tossed it into the trash. "I'm not sick, Isolde. Oh, and Mom and Dad aren't dead either. I orchestrated that highway explosion six years ago. You were the only one meant to be crippled."
My blood ran cold. 
Jaxson, my supposedly bankrupt Alpha husband, adjusted his Rolex. "I never lost my company, either. Whenever I said I was working late at the docks, I was actually sleeping in my Manhattan penthouse. Honestly, the corpse stench on you was making me gag. We just wanted to end this little game."
I stared at the men I had sacrificed my soul for. Why?
My parents stepped out from the shadows, holding Violet—the fake daughter who stole my life—protectively in their arms. "Because you were too arrogant! We had to break your spirit so you'd stop bullying Violet. This 'trial' was for your own good!"
They thought this ultimate betrayal would finally force me to submit and beg for their forgiveness. 
But as my heart shattered into dust, the legendary Silver Wolf bloodline—dormant for 24 years—finally tasted the extreme despair it needed to awaken.
My eyes bled from amber to piercing silver. 
Fine, my inner wolf whispered. Let's show them what a true monster looks like.

Getting pregnant by her boss after a one-night stand and suddenly leaving her job as stripper was the last thing Serena had hoped for, and to make matters worse he is the heir to the mafia.

Serena is calm while Christian is fearless and outspoken but somehow the two have to make it work. When Christian forces Serena to go through with a fake engagement she tries her hardest to fit in the family and the luxurious life the women live while Christian is fighting as hard as he can to keep his family safe, but everything takes a turn when the hidden truth about Serena and her birth parents comes out.

Their idea was to play pretend until the baby was born and the rule was to not fall in love, but plans don't always go as expected.

Will Christian be able to protect the mother of his unborn child?

And will they end up catching feelings for one another?

Giving up has never been an option….
While fighting for his life and freedom has become commonplace for Alpha Cole Redmen, the battle for both hits a whole new level once he finally returns to the place he’s never called home. When his fight to escape results in dissociative amnesia, Cole must overcome one obstacle after another to get to the place he only knows about in his dreams. Will he follow his dreams and find his way home or will he get lost along the way?
Join Cole on his emotional journey, inspiring change, as he fights to return to Crimson Dawn.

*This is the second book in the Crimson Dawn series. This series is best read in order.

**Content warning, this book contains descriptions of physical and sexual abuse that sensitive readers may find disturbing. For adult readers only.

•Mature Content•

Lycan prince Kaden Moretti is known for his ruthlessness and cruelty, but that is until one day when he finds the injured angel in the forest--Isabelle Morgan who is supposedly his mate

Captived and kept away from civilization for her whole life, Isabelle knows nothing about the world. On her escape from her malicious captors, she finds herself getting exposed to a new yet dangerous world and worst of all she doesn't know her destination. Rescued by the handsome Lycan prince and being under his care, for once in her life she leans onto someone. But she doesn't know he's her mate, neither she understands the mate bond.

A beauty, timid and fearful of even the smallest things, fragile like a petal Kaden finds himself letting go of his hard exterior for the girl who seems to land within his arms from heaven itself. But Isabelle's captors aren't going to do stop chasing her, what will happen when the devils will begin chasing them? Will Kaden be able to save his Angel?

What exactly does it mean to be his bride?


Every year, in each of the seven villages that made up the great Kingdom of Ignas, a Choosing Ritual was conducted. During this Chosing Ritual, one of the ladies in the village would be chosen to be the dreaded Dragon King's Bride.

No one knew exactly why the ritual was being performed every year or what happened to the brides that had been chosen in the past.

Was he turning them into slaves?

Feeding them to his dragon?

Or was he... feeding on them?

That couldn't be ruled out. After all, there were rumours that the king wasn't like them, that he wasn't human.

Yet the question relentlessly troubled the people's heart.

What was he using them for?!

But they dared not question the King, afraid of what fate daring to go against him would be.

Anyways, none of these was Belladonna's business. Although it was her village's turn to produce a bride this year, she was certain she wouldn't get chosen.

Why?

Well, because she had a plan and she was absolutely certain it wouldn't fail her... or would it?

''Well, do you have something to say?''
A strapping, muscular naked man asked me as he sat across from me as I was also sitting there naked, half-submerged in this large tub of water.
''Don't worry, I won't bite you, baby...''
He said as he moved closer to me, pulling me into his lap and placing me on his leg.
''Wh-what is this, Master?'' I finally asked him as he handed me a small bar.
''I am not your Master,'' he snapped at me in a harsh tone.
''I am your Mate.''

After the death of Alasia's mother five years before, her stepfather used the trust given to her upon her mother's death to support his drinking habits.
Once he was broke and refusing to manage the one low-end job he had, he felt he was left with no other choice. He decided to sell his eldest stepdaughter in the event that he could get enough to move away, and therefore, take her younger brother along with him.
Alasia at the mere age of 16 is sold into slavery into the most fierce werewolf pack, The Crimson Caine, by her overzealous and abusive step-father.
How can she survive under the most ruthless and Alpha?
And what if she finds out she's his MATE?