8848 Book(s) Related to free book the lycan king's mate

She knelt in the pouring rain, pounding on my glass door, covered in mud, her voice hoarse from shouting. I stood inside, holding Lily's hand. She called my name, over and over, like calling a dead person. I lowered my head and said to Lily, "Come on, Daddy will take you to dinner." Then I turned and closed the door. From beginning to end, I didn't look at her once. Not because I still hated her. It was because she meant nothing to me anymore. And that woman didn't know—three years ago, when she threw me away like trash, I had already learned not to cling to trash.

The luxury cruise ship in the high seas had become a floating steel coffin for the beautiful CEO and me.
Just a door away, the corridor was teeming with slithering, tentacled Mimics. The wet, crunching sounds of them chewing on raw flesh were enough to make anyone’s scalp go numb.
Inside the pitch-black storage cabin—measuring barely three square meters—the usually aloof and untouchable Ice Queen of the corporate world was so terrified she had her flawless body pressed desperately against my chest.
In this extreme claustrophobia, her scalding body heat generated a fierce friction against me in the face of absolute despair.
"Keep me alive. Everything I have... is yours."

My ex and I used to live inside a romance movie.

She was the heroine’s best friend. I was the hero’s loyal sidekick. When the leads got their happy ending, we—the two “extras”—ended up together like an afterthought.

Then the credits rolled, and real life didn’t. The heroine died in a car crash, the hero fell apart, and my girlfriend chose that moment to leave me.

She said she was done being a supporting role. She wanted the spotlight—she wanted the heroine’s place.

I didn’t beg. I left the city alone and started over from nothing.

Five years later, I returned with my own company group—and ran into her again at a charity gala.

She still looked flawless, moving through the room of power and money, keeping up the image of success. She assumed I was still the same guy trailing behind someone else, and she spoke to me with that familiar, pitying superiority—offering to “help” me back into the circle.

Until the lights dimmed, and the host read my name with respectful clarity, inviting me to the stage.

That was when she realized the gala’s biggest sponsor was me—and the “sidekick” she thought she’d left behind was now someone she could never reach again.

Seven years ago, my wife and son committed perjury in court, conspiring to send me to a high-security prison, all so they could elope with that fraudster.
Seven years later, I was released.
My ex-wife, with her son, arrogantly tossed a business card onto my faded work clothes:
"Go kowtow to my new husband and apologize, and I'll give you a waiter's job."
Little did she know that just hours later, at a top-tier financial summit across America, her seemingly untouchable new husband was kneeling at my feet like a dog.
And her proud multi-billion dollar empire was nothing more than garbage I could crush with a flick of my finger.

When I was ten, my parents faked a messy divorce and turned my life into a sick reality show.
They split up me and my twin sister, Romy. She got the Alpine mansion and my mother's luxurious lifestyle.
I was dumped in a moldy basement, scrubbing diner plates and clinging to my physics books to survive my father's "gambling addiction." 
For eight years, I starved to pay off his staged debts. Then, on our eighteenth birthday, Romy casually texted me a link to StreamLens, an exclusive voyeur site for bored billionaires, followed by a few stabbing messages:
[Surprise, sis. Mom and Dad never actually split. We're perfectly happy ]
[It's honestly sad watching you skip meals, but you know how it is.]
[You were the "older sister," so they chose you to be the one raised in the dirt.] 
I clicked the link. The site's #1 live feed was a giant split screen titled: "The Twin Experiment: Raised Poor vs. Raised Rich—Which Sister Comes Out on Top?" 
On the left: me, freezing in a leaky cellar. On the right: Gareth and Marissa playfully hugging Romy on a velvet sofa, slicing into a massive birthday cake. The debt, the loan sharks, my absolute misery—it was all just entertainment. 
Through the feed, Romy stared straight into the hidden camera, flashing a sickly-sweet smile. 
“Smile for the cameras, sis. Your suffering bought us this gorgeous house.”

My daughter has been blind since birth. On her eighteenth birthday, she finally received news of a matching cornea donor.
Our whole family was so excited we couldn't sleep that night. My husband and daughter eagerly prepared for the surgery, their hearts filled with hope that she would soon see the light.
But I suddenly slammed my hand on the table and, amidst the family's stunned gazes, proposed a divorce on the spot.
My husband's face turned ashen as he demanded harshly, "You want a divorce just because I'm going through with our daughter's surgery?"
I curled the corner of my mouth and enunciated every word: "That's right. Because you're going through with her surgery—this marriage is over."

Just before my wedding, my fate mate, my Alpha fiancé, Micheal, stripped me of my wedding dress—our wedding dress—and handed it to his mistress, Becky Porter.
Not only that, but he locked me in the dressing room like some rabid wolf he needed to contain.
"Becky has a terminal illness.She just wants to experience being a bride before she dies."
I lunged forward, my wolf howling inside me. Alpha's strength pressed against mine, his dominance forcing my muscles to lock. My claws twitched, itching to break free.
"You bastard!" I snarled, my breath ragged.
Micheal barely blinked. Instead, he let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head .
"She’s dying, and you can’t even show a little compassion?" His tone dripped with disappointment, as if I were the villain here. "You’re only losing a wedding, but Becky… Becky is losing her dreams and her life."

I thought I was the woman David couldn’t live without.
For our marriage, I gave up my career to stay in the kitchen, learning to cook all his favorite meals, and I endured every bit of hostility from his family without complaint.
I thought that was what love looked like—quiet devotion, two people growing old together. Until our third wedding anniversary.
During the World Cup final broadcast watched by millions, I saw him in the stadium stands… kissing my younger sister.
By the time I made it home, Lily already had my house key in her hand, standing in my own home like she had every right to be there.
“Don’t you understand?” she whispered with a smile. “You can’t even give him a child. What makes you think you deserve to be his wife?”
David didn’t stop her. He didn’t defend me. He just watched. And let it happen.
What they forgot was simple. That house? It was mine. Not his.

I suddenly awakened the ability to read minds. But I heard my fiancé, Joey Jones, mocking me in his mind: He had already arranged for an assassin to “send me off” at our wedding in the church. What was even more disgusting was that he promised I would become the Donna of the Jones family, but in his heart, he was fixated on his stepmother, Rory—his father’s widow, who was only a few years older than him.
With only three days left until the wedding, I no longer cried or begged for love. Instead, I contacted my first love, Nate, who was a police officer: “How about being the male lead at my wedding?”

In our third year of surviving the wasteland, my companions and I finally realized it was all a reality show.

The elites and billionaires on the outside had built a massive dome, tossing us into this irradiated hellhole to be tortured. They broadcasted it globally, watching us drink toxic wastewater and eat mutated meat, treating us like monkeys in a zoo.

The mole in our team knelt in the mud, sobbing, begging me to understand that it was all a script—that as long as I played along, I could live.

Without a second thought, I swung my blade. Right in front of ten million VIP viewers, I chopped off his leg.

"Crappy script," I sneered, kicking aside the severed limbs and blood on the floor. Gripping my machete, I walked toward the real world beyond the heavy gates.

To those who used our lives for entertainment: I'm coming for yours.

At the company's annual client appreciation dinner, I was the one in charge of booking the venue.
To save the company money, I picked my aunt's upscale restaurant with a skyline view. Since we were family, she only charged us at cost. When I posted the details in our Slack channel to confirm with the team, no one had any objections—except for the intern, who slowly tagged me in the chat:
[Arthur, I don't mean anything by it.]
[I just want to ask—how big a kickback did you get for booking your family's restaurant?]
[After all, the money for this dinner is coming out of our bonus pool.]
[So you should return that money to the rest of us, right?]
The other coworkers started liking the message and chiming in to support him.
So I dropped the whole thing on the spot and handed the task over to that intern, who loved talking about "fixing workplace injustice."
Then the night of the dinner came.
From the CEO all the way down to the investors, everyone was pinned on the deck and searched by armed Coast Guard officers.
The most important client contact collapsed from a heart attack on the spot and was airlifted by helicopter straight to the ICU, costing the company a multimillion-dollar enterprise cybersecurity contract.

"Yes, yes."

The moans began to tear through my lips uncontrollably. I couldn't see his facial expressions in the dark, but I knew a smug smile was on his face and his hooded eyes were watching me.

His voice was low, "You like that? Do you like how I touch you like that? You like how I rub your clit with my finger like you're mine?"

I nodded my head continuously, moaning in pleasure, not sure how much longer I could wait before he had his member inside me. He thrusted his fingers in faster, and rubbed my clit with his other hand, "Yeah. Come on. I love the little moans you make when I'm teasing you."

I struggled to put the words together, "P-p-please stop teasing me. Put it in—" an outrageous cry, "I want to feel it so bad. I want to—"

A gasp escaped my lips as he slammed his dick in. My brain curled up like wilted leaves. I parted my legs even wider and he completely leaned into me. Too heavy to hold, and too light not to. He began thrusting. The thrust getting deeper and harder with each stroke. In me. Nonstop. I wrapped my feet around his back so he couldn't get away.


Travelling back to the town where she was born, Rebecca Lewis had a toe to toe argument with the most ruthless bastard in the city; little did she know that her not-so-clever act would put her in danger.

14 days. One mansion. One bed. One not-so-innocent man. What could go wrong?

“I prefer to be in the arms of other men who would treat me right than be with you anymore” she breathed out.
“How dare you” he yelled at her face while she stood her ground to him.
“What are you...”
Before she could finish her sentence, he pinned her to the wall and kissed her fiercely. He wrapped her legs around his waist leaving her back pinned to the wall as he deepened the kiss.
He pulled away from the kiss slowly kissing her neck in turn as his hand slid into her panties. His fingers fondled with her wet folds giving her shimmers of pleasure she had never felt.


Elaine, a beautiful young lady who had everything just found out that she had cancer and had about a year to live. Shattered by the news, she hid it from her family that maltreated only for them to realize the truth and cuss her out breaking her heart.In a bid to enjoy her life to the fullest, she had a one night stand with a man but to her greatest surprise, it turned out to be her husband.

In a world rebuilt by werewolves after the great battle where the human race was wiped off, peace was supposed to last forever.
A darkness is spreading across the land, giving strength to the rogues who once wandered alone. For the first time in centuries, rogues are banding together and creating armies. The High Council calls every Alpha to stand together, or fall apart.
Caius Vale, Alpha of the Nightwind pack, rules with sharp control and an iron will. He is ruthless, feared, and left alone.
Maeva Throne, Alpha of Silvermist, has clawed her way to the top of a hierarchy that never wanted her there and has proven that she deserves to be Alpha. She leads with instinct, loyalty, and fire.
When they meet at the Council’s gathering, the air itself trembles. One look, and their instincts collide, an undeniable bond neither of them wanted.
Caius demands her submission, the recognition he believes he’s owed as her fated mate, but Maeva has spent her whole life fighting to be seen as an Alpha and she won’t bow, not to the Council and not to him.
As the curse grows and rogue armies rise, power, pride, and desire blur into something neither Alpha can control.
And when the world begins to burn, only one truth remains, some battles are won by dominance and others, by surrender.

“Why did you buy me, especially for such a huge amount? There is no way you could possibly want me when I am carrying the child of another man. Wait…. You could not possibly want me because…” the last words remained stuck in Kyra’s throat. She swallowed thickly and dread curled in the pit of her stomach as she stared at the handsome face of a rumored ruthless Alpha Anton.


It is one thing to find your mate, it is another for your mate to want you back.

All of Kyra’s life, she has been the rejected one and thought that things would be different when she finally finds her mate. Except that the moon goddess is one who likes to play games, Kyra gets mated to the enemy of her pack, Tristan.

Kyra is shocked when her mate accepts her despite knowing she is the enemy's daughter, so she starts going out with him secretly, but that won’t last for long because she falls pregnant, and her father finds out about her escapades with Tristan.

Tristan rejects her in the presence of her father and denies their child, leaving Kyra broken-hearted. He was only with her to destroy her father because of the feud between both packs.

In anger, her father who has never cared for her decides to auction her off to the highest bidder.

Broken, pregnant and in shame, Kyra is sold off to Alpha Anton. Kyra has never left home all her life and the first time she does, it is with a stranger who bought her. Kyra looks on her future with dread, not knowing what it holds for a pregnant and rejected woman like her.

So fucking deep inside me! I love your big cok! It fills me up so gooood!”
“You like that? You like that? Huh? Feeling my tight pussy squeezing your fucking big dik?”
“So good! So good! You’re making me cum so hard!”
You know, shit like that.
Sam rode herself to three screaming orgasms, climaxes I can’t take much credit for. I just sort of lay there and let her use me like a living dildo. My greatest contribution to that round was simply my ability to NOT bust my nut, and the primary reason for that accomplishment was Belle sucking a load out of me before dinner, right after I’d agreed to let her come watch. But I couldn’t last forever, not with a gorgeous girl gyrating against my groin saying erotic shit like that and bending over every now and again to smother my face with her massive breasts. So when my neck muscles got tense, and when I started clenching my teeth in an effort to hold on just a little longer, Sam grinned and glanced over at Belle.
"You wanna see him blow a massive load all over my big tits?”

A Virgin high school teenager is the 'safe' guy friends for six beautiful, busty babes. The girl flirt and tease him, but aren't going to ruin their friendships by crossing the line of physical intimacy. But then one day, things start to change.

As the son of a retired football legend and the twin brother of his college team’s star quarterback, Xavier Hunt is expected to live and breathe football. The world doesn’t understand why he rides the bench — but for Xavier, the game was never his dream. Football is his father’s legacy and his brother’s passion, not his own. He on the team to make them happy. The only place he truly feels alive is under stage lights, performing music with his band far away from expectations.

Hailey has her life carefully planned. She may not love everything about college, but she excels where it matters — her studies and her relationship with her boyfriend, Ryan. Determined to keep her perfect world intact, she tolerates parties and social circles she would rather avoid, including and limited to the presence of Xavier Hunt, the one person who constantly challenges her patience and disrupts her peace. To her, Xavier is arrogant, reckless, and dangerously good at exposing cracks she refuses to acknowledge.

When an unexpected twist forces them to work together, rivalry turns into reluctant understanding. Late nights, shared secrets, and moments neither of them planned begin to blur the line between hatred and attraction. Soon, Xavier and Hailey must confront what they truly want — and whether the feelings they swore never existed are worth risking everything they thought defined them.

Sana is the student of IT (Information Technology). Or shall I say she was .

She can hack every device she wants but she never try to do it because the first time she did, she was in chaos people are still searching for her but with the name of "H King".After that she never tried hacking anything saying it will disturb others.

Leo is the most handsome man if you say almost every girl drol over him but he didn't give a shit .

But his life was lacking love which he realized after meeting his destiny.


Laura is the most intelligent yet clumsy girl if you ask . She is a chess player the most feared one.
She play chess online and she never use her name but her writing pin which is "H King".

No one has ever beated her in her game and so did he.

When She find out that two of her best friends are Working or more like have been captured by the Mafia she made a plan but , she was not successful and got captured by the most feared Italian Mafia Xerver.

Xerver is the most cruel man present on Earth or that's what people say about him .

He had Never imagined that he will marry some Muslim girl who will beat his heart and him in his on games.


Julie is the third one in them. She is older in her group of besties by a year.
From the beginning she has liked investigating and from a young age she has watched every criminal movie and show she can .

In a mission, she was shooted two to three times but a Mafia billionaire saved her on some circumstances.

She didn't know that he is a Russian Mafia King .

They say the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. They never said anything about his soul.

I was a culinary prodigy on the verge of global fame until my fiancé and my best friend murdered me with my own carving knife to steal my recipes. My last thought wasn’t of love, but of a burning vow: If I get a second chance, I will serve them their just deserts.

I got my wish.

I woke up not in a morgue, but in the body of an omega slave, Number 74, in the brutal, wolf-ruled kingdom of the Lunar Fang Pack. I was weak, worthless, and slated to die in the kitchens. But they didn’t know who they were dealing with. The soul of a master chef still burned within me.

When I poured my rage and my grief into a simple broth for a dying slave, I discovered a truth that would shatter this world: my emotions are ingredients. My cooking is magic. A stew made with spite can poison. A cake baked with defiance can empower.

Now, my unique gift has drawn the attention of the three most dangerous Alphas in the kingdom.

Emperor Kael, the cursed and ruthless Alpha King
ho woman, not just the weapon.

Commander Cassian, his stoic, lethal protector,

Prince Raze, the visiting rival Alpha

They think I’m a pawn in their game of thrones. A tool to be used and discarded.

They have no idea.

I was betrayed for my recipes once. I’ll be damned if I let a trio of Alphas do it again. My menu is set, and this time, the main course is revenge.

The only question is: which of these powerful wolves will be the first to take a bite?

Not long after I transferred to this school, I became the bullies’ favorite target.
They didn’t like how quiet I was or how pale I looked, so they casually slapped me with a nickname: “vampire.”
It started with shoves in the hallway and jeers in the classroom, escalated to messing with my drink, then stuffing trash into my locker.
They treated my silence as permission and wrapped every provocation in the same excuse: “Just a joke.”
Until that night, when humiliation wasn’t enough. They lured me into a tiny storage room behind the auditorium—locked the door, killed the lights, set up a fixed camera—ready to strap me to a chair and film an “execution” video that would make sure I could never hold my head up at this school again.
What they didn’t know was that the nickname wasn’t a joke. It was the one time they got the truth right.
I really am a vampire.

Alpha Kayle and I have spent the last five years locked in a brutal dance of hatred, resentment, and twisted duty.

He didn’t choose me as his Luna. He was forced—bound to me by the will of his parents and the Elders, not by love, not even by desire. Just obligation.

And Kayle?

He was the most ruthless Alpha alive. All sharp edges, broad shoulders, and cold, wild blood. The kind of man who doesn’t take orders—except, apparently, when it came to me.

So he punished me. Every. Single. Night.

He brought different women into our home, into our bed, like I wasn’t even there. And he made sure I heard every moan, every scream, every fake cry of his name echo through the walls.

The entire pack knew. They watched, whispered, laughed. I became the sad, silent Luna. The biggest joke in the werewolf world.

And still, I stayed. Because leaving would’ve meant surrender. And I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction.

I thought love was enough.
I thought saving the Ember Claw Pack with everything I had—my heart, my loyalty, even my body—meant something. It led to a Moon Ceremony… and a marriage to Alpha William, the man I gave my soul to.
But love doesn’t protect you from betrayal.
Especially not when the one he truly wanted was never me.
I was glowing with the joy of carrying our pup when I walked in on him—holding her.
Quinn.
The fated mate everyone believed to be dead. Alive. Back. In his arms.
And me? Just the mistake he settled for.
"I only married you out of gratitude," he said, barely meeting my eyes.
Then, turning to Quinn with a softness I never got, he added, "If she hadn’t sold her ancestral land to save the pack, I would’ve never completed the Moon Ceremony with her."
And the final blow?
"So what if she found out? I’ll just say I thought she was you that night we slept together."
That night—The one I thought meant everything.
But it didn’t end with him.

I once believed that if I was obedient enough, my birth family would finally love me. Instead, they gave everything to Anna, the fake heiress—my competition spot, my reputation, even my kidney.
Then I opened my eyes and returned to the year it all began.
This time, I won’t beg. I won’t yield. My achievements, my dignity, and my life belong to me.
When everyone called me vicious, Damian Sterling draped his jacket over my shoulders and asked in a low voice, “Am I an outsider?”
I leaned into him and smiled. “Of course not.”
But soon I discovered he was being slowly poisoned—and the culprit might be someone closest to him. Worse, the truth behind my death in my previous life may be darker than I ever imagined…

1

When we moved to the estate on the hill, all the bedrooms had already been assigned.
My parents had the primary suite.
My brother, Adrian, had the east wing.
The south suite, with its view of the Hudson—the nicest room in the house—was marked Grace's Room.
There was no room with my name on it.
In the hall, a worker was fastening brass plaques to the bedroom doors.
Not one of them read Claire.
Ten years earlier, Grace's father had been my dad's underboss. He had gone into a burning warehouse to rescue Adrian from the Bellinis. He hadn't come out.
Standing over his coffin, Dad had declared that Grace would be his daughter from then on.
What the Don said was law in our family. Somehow, though, I was always the one expected to cover the cost of that promise.
I asked Mom where I would sleep.
“You're going off to grad school soon, aren't you?” she said, as if it were obvious. “What would you need a bedroom for?”
Then she turned back to the pink curtains she was choosing with Grace.
Adrian knelt on the floor, lifting different fabric swatches for them to see.
Nathan, my boyfriend of three years, was putting up Grace's paintings. He insisted on hanging each one himself; apparently the movers couldn't be trusted with them.
Sitting on a packing box, I finally got it.
Nobody had overlooked me by accident.
They thought Grace should have the room, the family, even the boyfriend I had believed was mine.
I brought up the agreement on my phone.
A federal research site in the Nevada desert. Classified work.
A five-year commitment, with no outside contact.
I added my signature.
Ten days from now, I would be out of their lives. And I wouldn't be coming back.

The day he proposed, Atticus knelt before me, holding the Hale family's heirloom necklace.
I thought I had finally survived the ordeal.
After eight years of unrequited love, being humiliated by his sister, nitpicked by his mother, and mocked by the city's socialites for being unworthy of the Hales... Until this very moment, when he personally fastened the heirloom around my neck. Everyone saw it. I, Clara, was finally accepted by the Hale family.
Tears in my eyes, I said yes, thinking it was the happiest moment of my life.
But just days after putting on that necklace, bizarre red rashes crawled up my neck. My pale skin rotted away piece by piece, and my internal organs went into irreversible failure.
The most absurd part? The exact same day I started rotting, his dying mother miraculously cured her terminal illness, and his sister's half-destroyed face was restored to flawless perfection.
Disfigured and barely looking human, I threw myself off the Harbour Bridge—
I opened my eyes, and I was back on the day of the proposal.

For as long as I could remember, my family had insisted Vivian needed more because I could take more.
The pony I loved. The occasions meant to celebrate me. Time with my mother. If my twin wanted any of it, I was the one expected to go without.
Our induction into the Mafia Family was meant to be the exception. We were both daughters of Don Moretti. A crown was supposed to be waiting for each of us.
But Vivian's made-to-order crown glittered with both our diamonds, and the one assigned to me was tarnished, its setting bare. At the formal dinner, Father had my place card sent to the bottom of the table for not dressing properly—after I had spent my time crossing Manhattan to fetch Vivian's gown.
They assumed I'd give way, just as I always had.
This time, I canceled my part in the ceremony, filled a single suitcase, and took a flight with no return ticket.
When the Moretti Family assembled under its crest, two crowns were waiting. Only one daughter was prepared to put hers on.

Five years into living with my stepbrother Gideon, the scholarship girl he sponsored moved into our house.
To repay his "generosity," she made a habit of slipping into his bed at night. By day, she took it upon herself to "fix" my antisocial, withdrawn personality.
Three days before St. George Prep's graduation ceremony, she brought me a glass of juice wearing that nauseating sugar-sweet smile.
"You know, Charlotte, your peanut allergy is probably psychosomatic. You just need some exposure therapy. Let me help you get over it."
That night, my throat closed completely. She'd deliberately laced my drink with concentrated peanut extract.
I convulsed on the cold hardwood floor, vision tunneling as oxygen fled my lungs.
In the last second before darkness swallowed me whole, I clawed desperately toward the half-open door.
Standing in the hallway were my boyfriend Dylan and my stepbrother Gideon.
They simply watched me suffocate. Then Gideon calmly reached out and shut the door.
I died from anaphylactic shock.
Three months later, as a ghost tethered to this world, I watched her stride onto Stanford's campus. Wearing my clothes. Carrying my acceptance letter. Burning through my trust fund.
Through the crowd, I saw Gideon—my ice-cold, unreachable stepbrother—gently cradle her face and press his lips to hers.
Then I gasped awake.
I was back. Three days before graduation.

On a night twenty degrees below zero, in the middle of a blizzard, my own parents stripped off my coat and locked me outside.
All because my sister said she felt cold.
To survive, I struck a bargain with a stranger—my own health as the price.
From that night on, my body began to fall apart.
I told my parents I felt sick. They said I was faking it again, just to steal my sister's attention.
Then came the ice skating competition.
Racked with pain, I begged them on my knees to let me withdraw.
They said, "This is Daphne's dream. You have to help her make it come true."
I was forced onto the ice.
One jump. My bones shattered on landing.
When I collapsed and couldn't get up again, they finally realized—I hadn't been lying.

It was my second year back in this house.
My name was Evelyn, the biological daughter who got lost in Central Park at seven.
During the ten years I stayed missing, I fed pigs on a remote farm in Eastern Europe. In weather that dropped to dozens below zero, I got beaten for working too slowly.
I did not get brought back until I was seventeen, covered in scars, returned to this so-called “home,” luxurious to the point of being blinding.
To be honest, every time I watched them sit on silk sofas and sip afternoon tea, then thought about the decade I spent crawling through hell, hatred made my teeth ache.
That hatred stood between us and made the house feel like an icebox. We lived under the same roof, yet we were not even as close as strangers.

BLURB

My breath hitched, my chest heaving as Salvatore's finger thrust into my pussy. I clenched my teeth, my fingers squeezing the bedsheets as I shamelessly parted my legs even wider.

“Do you want me to stop?” His voice was a low growl.

“No,” I breathed. “Faster…please,” I moaned loudly.

I knew Salvatore's and my attraction to each other was forbidden; he was the heir to a wealthy family, and I was just a maid in his house. But I have had an attraction to him since I met him and couldn't control it.

We both couldn't.


Lyra Whitman is from a poor home and has faced constant bullying in school. She and her mother finally moved away to a new city, where they her mother works as a maid for the Sinclair's, one of the wealthiest and most influential families in the county.

Lyra cannot help but fall for their son, and she is surprised to see that he feels the same. Knowing the dangers of being together due to their different backgrounds, they are forced to navigate their relationship in secret.

For the three years since I returned to the Hart family, I had always been the wildly out-of-place “burden.”

Vivienne, the family’s beloved fake heiress, broke a contract on her own and provoked a local gang. She was taken hostage and tortured in an abandoned auto repair shop.

To save his precious sister, my brother, Ryan, did not hesitate to trade me to the gang in exchange for Vivienne.
“She’s a movie star, and you’re just a useless nobody. It’s only natural for you to take her place and suffer a little.”
He looked coldly at the gang members who were eyeing me like hungry wolves, and violently shoved me toward them.
“Tonight, she belongs to you.”

Right before they dragged me away, I managed to call my husband, Alex, begging for help. But he rejected me ruthlessly, acting as if my plea was some cheap scam:
“Stop playing the victim. Why would they ever hurt you? Hurry up and clean up this mess. Don't let a girl like Vivienne face those thugs all by herself.”

Bang.
The heavy iron doors of the gang’s hideout slammed shut.
There were no negotiations. What greeted me was a merciless rain of fists, my clothes brutally torn to shreds, and the blinding flashes of cameras.
Amidst the ultimate degradation, they took photos of me, pinched my jaw, and violated my dignity over and over again.

At 4:00 AM, I was tossed out onto the street in front of my own house like a piece of discarded trash.
Upon dragging myself inside, Vivienne immediately began dropping hints to the family, implying that I was the one who tricked her into signing the illegal gang contract.
My family cursed me, telling me to drop dead.
My heart plummeted into a bottomless abyss of darkness. Numbly swallowing the bloody foam pooling in my mouth, I let out a hoarse, broken laugh.

“Since my return was a mistake from the very beginning…”
“Then why didn’t they just let me die?”

At 17, I saved William from the black market.
At 22, he crossed half the globe to marry me with two million dollars.
I built his empire for him, turning him into the biggest arms dealer in the Americas.
Then Karen appeared, and our seven years turned to ashes.
I finally saw the truth:
The roses he gave me were the ones Karen had rejected.
His so-called love was nothing but a hypocritical act for money.
To him, I was just a prop for show, a tool for his business, and a machine for sex.

Six months ago, my parents started fostering a girl named Lila Mercer.
Six months ago, Mom repainted the guest room and strung fairy lights over the bed. My room still has the same furniture I've had since I was twelve.
Six months ago, Dad started coming home for Sunday dinner. Not for me. I'd been eating alone at the counter for years by then.
Six months ago, Mom posted a photo of the two of them at the farmers market. Caption: our family is growing. I saw it during third period and locked my phone hard enough to crack the case.
So when I picked up the family iPad tonight and a notification popped up from an app I didn't recognize, I wasn't shocked. Just tired of being right.
The app was called Beacon.

My family ignored my calls while I was dying in our basement. They thought I was trying to ruin my younger sister's graduation.
That night, my brother finally came looking for me. My sister wanted the cookies I used to bake for her.
I was right beside him when he demanded that I come home.
He couldn't hear me. My body was still downstairs.

I was dead, and the whole world was celebrating for my sister.

For twenty-two years, I had been the hardest-working but most invisible daughter in the Sterling family, forever living in the shadow of my gymnastics prodigy sister.

Running a high fever, I begged my family to take me to the hospital, only to hear: "Don't you DARE ruin Bella's award ceremony!"

When I was tricked into the abandoned equipment room and used my last breath to call my boyfriend while lying in a pool of blood, all I heard was: "Grace, quit the drama! Bella's accepting her award on stage!"

On stage, thunderous applause erupted as Bella lifted the "Young Gymnast of the Year" trophy.

And I drew my final breath.

When they returned home triumphant, thinking I had run away in a tantrum, they had no idea I was already dead right under their noses.

There are no unmated males in our pack.
Every she-wolf in Hollowfen is promised to someone when she turns eighteen. We just don't get to know who until we walk into the Choosing Hall.
Girls go in wearing white. They come out flushed, shaking, barely able to stand. Some laugh. Some cry. None of them talk about what happens inside.
My sister Thessaly turned eighteen this spring. Gran told her she couldn't attend the Choosing.
She went anyway. She came back on shaking legs, with blood between her thighs and a smile she couldn't wipe off her face.

My stepsister and I tumbled down the stairs together. As someone with a blood clotting disorder, my spleen ruptured—I was bleeding internally, desperate for surgery to stop it.
But my mother—the renowned chief of surgery—pulled every specialist from the ER. To consult on my stepsister's condition.
All she had was a sprained ankle. Not even a scratch. Yet mom insisted on running every test in the book. And me? Left alone on that cold floor, bleeding out, half my body already soaked in blood.
I clutched at her pants, begging her to save me. But she kicked my hand away and looked at me with pure disgust.
"Lily, are you really so desperate for a man's attention that you'd pull a cheap stunt like this? Your sister's foot is swollen—and you have the nerve to fake your death here?"
In the end, I died alone in a corner of that ignored ER.
But when they wheeled my cold body out of the morgue—and they finally learned about my clotting disorder—
That mother who claimed to hate me completely lost her mind.

I am a hero. The saint's husband.
A country boy chosen by the temple.
I fight, I fight, I fight.
All for the saint, for the temple.
But it wasn't until I was drained of blood and dying on the altar that I finally heard clearly what the saint and her childhood sweetheart were saying:
"If you become a hero and marry the saint, you'll have to surrender your soul to the temple. I don't want you to lose your soul."
"Then let's just find some country boy to be the hero. It won't matter if he dies."
Oh, so that's how it is.
You should have said so earlier.
I can defeat the Demon Lord just fine without the saint.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the wedding ceremony.
This time, someone else should be on the altar.

On the third day of the outbreak, I sat in my company’s executive conference room, gripping the red toy car I bought for my six-year-old son.

Outside the door were zombies filling the building. Beside me were six executives still breathing only because I was.

They wanted meetings. They wanted to wait for rescue. They wanted to chain me with morality.

But I wanted one thing—my son was still in daycare. Three days. No one went for him.

At dawn, I opened the door they’d barricaded shut.

I can shoot. I can clear a path. I will carve my way through to bring him back.

Anyone who stands in my way dies.

In my previous life, I chose the werewolf and gave birth to the Arbiter, only to be burned alive by the younger sister I loved most.
When I was reborn, I knelt before the Oath Stone, handed my marriage pact to her, and watched her gloat in triumph before choosing Sylas, the elf everyone else avoided.
Everyone was waiting to see me make a fool of myself—until the day of the wedding, when he came carrying a gown blessed by the Sacred Tree, lowered his eyes to me, and said, "In this life, I will never fail you."

Silver poisoning struck, and my mother's life hung by a thread.
I knelt and begged my partner Selene to use the 100,000 gold coins from our war spoils to purchase Moonlight Holy Water, but she coldly refused with a sneer: "An ordinary silver poison patient isn't worth wasting resources on." She then turned and spent 80,000 coins on a necklace for her male lover.
My mother died in my arms as I ground my teeth and swallowed my tears of blood.
But when the patrol came to collect the body, she finally discovered—the one sent to be buried deep in the mass grave wasn't my mother at all, but her own biological mother.
She had personally buried her own mom!

The chieftainess returned from the poisonous fog with a swollen belly.
She announced that she carried the child of a god—a child who would bring hope to the entire base.
Only I knew that what she bore was no divine offspring, but a demon that would devour every soul in the base.
Because in my previous life, I was the one it had gnawed to death, alive...

I was Sophia Corleone. The wife Michael kept hidden from the world. The woman who should have stood beside the Don. And the woman he left to die.
The Morettis tied me up at a dock on Long Island. With the last of my strength, I called my husband. My voice broke with terror: “Michael, please… save me. I’m at the Long Island docks. They’re going to kill me.”
But all I got was his impatient roar, “Sophia, are you lying for attention again? You’d make up something this pathetic just to get me home? God, you make me sick.”
The call cut off in my ear. And then the Morettis killed me.

Fate chose her.
Power made him refuse.
Ruby was never the Luna Troy wanted.
The girl with silver eyes and no wolf the pack whispered about behind her back. The girl he rejected publicly on the day that was supposed to be their wedding and mating ceremony, choosing pride and power over the bond that tied them together.
Humiliated before the entire pack, Ruby walked away from the man destined to love her.
And when Troy realized too late that rejecting her had been the biggest mistake of his life, Ruby refused to come back.
So on the day Ruby was supposed to marry another and finally start over, he stole her from her own wedding and forced her back into his world—back into a marriage she never wanted.
Now trapped beside the man who broke her heart, Ruby is no longer the weak girl Troy remembers. The years apart changed her. Hardened her. And the power inside her has grown into something the entire werewolf world fears.
A power strong enough to stop wars.
Strong enough to make kings kneel.
Suddenly, everyone wants a piece of her.
The council sees her as a weapon. Rival Alphas see her as a prize. Enemies lurking in the shadows want her power for themselves. And Troy, the man who once shattered her, will burn down the world before he lets anyone take her again.
But forced proximity only reopens old wounds.
Because beneath Ruby’s anger still lingers the bond neither of them escaped. Beneath Troy’s cruelty hides obsession, regret, and a dangerous love that has only grown more possessive with time.
Now caught between revenge and desire, freedom and fate, Ruby must decide if Troy deserves a second chance…
—or if the Alpha who ruined her should finally lose everything.

A short contemporary domestic-drama romance. Clean to sweet. Happily ever after.

My husband's family slid the folder across the table — sign here, family helps family, it's just a signature.

What they didn't know: I had almost three million dollars in an account none of them could find. I silenced the alert before the number could glow.

They think we're the broke ones. For four years they've bled the kindest man I know dry, dressing every demand up as love and cashing it. So I let them keep believing it — and I built a wall they will never see.

They're about to find out what happens when you spend a lifetime underestimating the quiet one.

And this time, I'm not the one who pays.

Three torturous years hauling bodies on the mortuary night shift, and I'd finally scraped together the cash for my brother Charles's heart transplant.
He just waved it off.
"My heart is fine. Mom and Dad didn't die in that gang war, either. I orchestrated the hit. You were the only casualty."
Nearby, my husband, Gerald, casually lit a cigar to deliver his own confession. "I never went bankrupt. 'Laying low' was just my excuse to avoid squeezing into that dingy funeral home dorm with you. I've been at the Long Island estate."
"I was going to punish you for another three years," Charles added, "but the stench of formaldehyde on you is nauseating. We couldn't take it anymore."
I froze, still clutching the credit card. Charles plucked the plastic from my numb fingers and shoved his phone screen in my face. A banking app stared back at me.
Balance: exactly zero.
"My name is still on the joint account," he sneered, tossing the card into the trash. "I drained it this morning. That blood money you made bagging stiffs is being handed out to street junkies as we speak. We'd never touch that filth."
Before the sheer absurdity of it could suffocate me, my parents walked in. Flanked by bodyguards, they kept their distance, eyeing me like a plague rat.
"You thought being the biological daughter gave you the right to ruthlessly bully Violet. We simply wanted to put you in your place."
"Swear you'll never cross Violet again, and you can remain a Falcone," my mother added coolly. "Otherwise, you're dead to us."
In the stifling silence that followed, my phone buzzed. A text from my oncologist.
[Mrs. Castello, the results are back. It's terminal. Do you consent to initiating the hospice and DNR protocols we discussed?]

The night of my coming-of-age ceremony, Elodie asked us to sit around the bonfire and talk.

Elodie was my adoptive parents' real daughter. They had brought her home three months ago.

She smiled at me across the fire. "Wren, which academy are you choosing?"

Before I could answer, the four boys I grew up with spoke first.

One by one, they held up acceptance receipts. All four said Silverhaven.

Silverhaven studied silver resistance, three thousand two hundred miles from our pack. I had refused it twice because I couldn't leave them.

Then Ronan Vale, our future Alpha, slid my enrollment form toward me.

"The elders said yes. Come with us, Wren. After graduation, you'll be my Luna."

I had loved him half my life. I signed.

Two days later, I went to find them with my enrollment letter in my hand. Their door wasn't fully shut.

"She signed?"

"Four fake receipts, and she's off our territory."

"Elodie finally gets her place."

"Ronan's got it worst. He has to play boyfriend until she leaves."

All four were staying. Only I was being sent away.

When Elodie came home, I'd thought about moving out. They swore nothing between us would change.

I let myself believe it.

What they didn't know was that I'd been offered early intake. The moment I crossed into Silverhaven territory, my bond to this pack would dissolve, and no one here could reach me again.

They had worked so hard to clear a space for Elodie.

They had no idea how empty it was about to become.

The day my mother succumbed to complications during childbirth, her younger sister, Vanessa, wed my father.

Fifteen years later, I beheld my husband accompanying Vanessa as she tried on seductive lingerie.

In that moment, I understood—what she truly coveted was never my father, but rather all that my mother and I shared.

My mother perished during childbirth, a casualty of an illicit affair.

I vowed not to repeat that tragic cycle.

Then I returned home, removed my wedding ring, and left behind the divorce papers.