2730 Book(s) Related to online books to read for adults

My henchman, drunk, accidentally revealed he was a reincarnated individual, claiming that the apocalypse would arrive in nine days and he would kill me to seize all my wealth.
I laughed.
I'd been a pirate king for ten years; what storms hadn't I weathered?
I not only emptied his treasure chest that he considered his for the taking overnight, but also used his money to buy up all the survival supplies in the city.
When the apocalypse truly arrived, he could only kneel on the zombie-infested shore, watching helplessly as I sailed towards the absolutely safe island paradise.

My name is Ethan, and it wasn't until the apocalypse arrived that I realized just how cruel fate could be.

Ability awakening became the new normal. Most survivors gained some kind of supernatural power, ranging from F-rank to the legendary S-rank.

F-rank abilities were barely better than being ordinary, while S-rank ability users possessed the power to face a hundred enemies alone.

My childhood friend Davis awakened a B-rank ability [Thermal Perception], allowing him to sense the heat distribution of all living beings within a hundred-meter radius.

And me? I got the F-rank ability that everyone mocked—[Refresh].

"Hahaha! Refresh? What can that do? Refresh your life?" People at the camp always laughed at me like that.

But I didn't care. I only wanted to protect my sister Leia.

Leia is eighteen this year, one of the few ordinary people in this camp who haven't awakened an ability.

I swore to protect her, no matter the cost.

That evening at dusk, Davis came to find me, but he had already betrayed me and become a lackey of the Gray Mark Gang.

In a world overrun by zombies, survivors built a fortress—and my fiancée and I joined its action unit.
To help her secure her position, I turned down leadership’s offer to run my own squad and stayed by her side as the “invisible” second-in-command.

For a full year, I made the tactics, wrote the contingencies, and cleaned up every mission.
She took my plans as her own credit—and let the team treat me like dead weight.

Then, on one operation, she ignored my orders and changed the plan on the fly. Disaster followed.
In the debrief, she blamed everything on me in front of everyone.

I resigned on the spot.

Not long after, I took command of a new squad—and delivered the cleanest record in the entire base.
Her unit couldn’t even finish routine recovery runs.

Until a mandated joint op put our teams at the same rally point—
and she finally realized the “legendary captain” was me.

Three months into their marriage, Stella Dawson had been diligently playing the role of a delicate, spoiled flower—pushing every button she could—until she finally drove the CEO to the brink of madness.
Alexander Sterling coldly tossed the divorce papers at her. "Let's get divorced."
Tears welled up in Stella's eyes, but inwardly, she was grinning from ear to ear. Good riddance to being the CEO's wife! I'm going back to being the richest woman alive!
Alexander was certain he’d never regret his decision.
That is, until he saw his ex-wife surrounded by admirers, amassing wealth, and dominating every industry she touched. Power players from all fields bowed before her, declaring, "Little sister, just say the word, and we’ll take down anyone who dares mess with you!"
Swallowing his pride, Alexander squeezed his way into the crowd of handsome men. "Sweetheart, I take it back. Let’s get back together."

In the year 2333, humanity has fallen and ruled by werewolves. Bellatrix Sinclair, an 18-year-old weapons prodigy that despises werewolves for destroying her family has been secretly planning to join the human rebellion.
However, she is forced into the Mate Selection Process and matched with Lazarus De Loughrey, the ruthless Werewolf King obsessed with claiming her.
He shouldn't want her and she should hate him but they cannot resist each other. It's a twisted connection, entirely physical because all I am is his slave.
My heart should belong to my best friend Emmett, a human. Atleast the guilt of betrayal wouldn't be eating away at my insides.


“Yes please.” She begs.
“Then fucking let me in.” I growled, this fury exploding with vengeance. I wanted to destroy her pussy.
It was maddening, it was sickening, it was barbaric.
But I never claimed to be saint.
“Here that baby, that’s the sound of your greedy pussy sucking on my cock. Give me more, drench me.”
“Lazarus.” She moans painfully, “Please let me come.”
I’m doused in gasoline and set alight, sweat coats my skin as I pound into her faster and harder. I’m definitely hurting her, “Wanna come?” I rasped, “Not until I say so.”
Pressing my lips onto hers, pushing my tongue into her mouth until I feel the sweetness of hers. The kiss is sloppy and filthy. She cries as I drive my cock into her, the intensity too much to handle, sweet tears sliding onto her cheeks.
“Fuck yes.” I smile sadistically, licking her tears. “Cry for me Ma Cherie.”
“Please, please let me come My King.” She pleads.
“Say it again.” Lightening shooting down my spine as she begged, “My King, please let me come. I’ll be good.”
I chuckled, “Try your luck to kill me Ma Cherie, I dare you.”

Warning: Contains strong language, smuts, abuse and some really explicit content, please read at your risk. "Let go of me…" Arabella said. She grimaced, shaking her head. "Do you think I would let you go so easily?" He questioned, then tutted. Sandro's nostrils flared as he sniffed her hair wrapped in his hands, Vanilla and Strawberry. The innocent yet naughty scent he remembered her with. "That would never happen, Cara Mia." Arabella gasped as Sandro pressed his body into hers. She moved to shove him away but he grasped her hands and pinned them above her head before pointing the gun at her temple. Arabella shut her eyes tightly as the gun cocked. She inhaled and bit her tongue whilst saying her last prayer inwardly. She wanted to run far away from him. Away from the surface of the earth if possible. But she was certain no matter how far she went, he was going to find her. ------------------------------------- Arabella's life took a u-turn after falling into her enemy's hand. She should feel nothing for him, however. He made her lose all her senses, even her clothes. At the mercy of her foe, she discovers some secrets about him and wishes to unravel more, but got what she didn't bargain for. Alessandro, an Alpha werewolf assuming the identity of a mafia Lord. He was the most wanted criminal in COOAN, and his name incites fear in all werewolves' packs. He was a man fighting his demons and needs a saviour before he drowns. After a traumatic childhood event that left him scarred, Blaze often kept to himself and trusted no one until he met Arabella, whom he believed was the perfect mate sent to him by the moon's goddess. However, she was taken. The powerful urge to save her from her...

"What is love!? Carmen did you just mention that!?" With his speaking of rage and burning in anger; he asked.

"Yes... I have always do— I love you" she mouthed with her words stressed.

"You can try and ignore me if you can... Only if you know how eager I am and how badly I want to tame you". With those promising words from her which left a dark creepy smile on her face; she walked out.

"Love did she just call it? Did she think I will fall for that shit? If only she knew how much love is a weakness to every man". He muttered to himself as he sat down worriedly.

As a mafia boss, he must not have compassion nor can he fall in love.

She is the only one who have that fits to talks bravely to him. Even with his powers, his strength have it's limitations as it went down when he is before her.

He's fearless,
Dangerous,
And kills without a sparing a second to think!
He kills to live and lives to kill!
The smell of blood is what he enjoy most!!!

The dangerous man never forgives anyone even if it is blood—"fuck blood relatives when it comes to the smell of blood!"

He's not just all about dangers but handsome! He's a demigod and every ladies hopes for just a nightstand with him.

A girl sold to him by ruthless father and stepmother changed everything...

*She's annoying
*She's irresistible
*She's hot
*She's the goddess of beauty

What follows when she do the undo—...

She's a spy sent to monitor him, find his weakness and win his heart, will she accomplish that? Won't she fall in love in the process? What if the devil finds out?

My wife was sleeping with her assistant.

I didn’t confront her. I was in the middle of a critical funding round and about to take over as CEO, and I couldn’t afford to act on emotion.

Then my PI told me the truth: the affair was only the beginning.

On her birthday night, she planned to drug me, send my secretary into my room, and frame me for cheating—maybe even saddle me with a fake child scandal.

If it worked, my CEO promotion would be dead, the funding would collapse, and my reputation would be finished.

She thought the setup was flawless.

Too bad she forgot one thing:

I’m not good at explaining myself. I’m good at letting people walk straight into the trap I built for them.

So that night, the man carried into the room wasn’t me.

It was her lover.

I’m a werewolf.

Three months ago, I got involved in a back-alley “not my problem”—a man held a knife to a woman clutching her child. I rushed him and tore his throat out with my teeth.

Now the police are hunting me. My pack can’t protect me. The only option left is to slip out of the country.

The fixer at the meet hands me a bottle of “calming meds,” says it’ll get me through the checkpoints.

I smell the drugs anyway. I drink it.

When I wake up, my hands are tied behind my back inside a sealed metal cargo truck. Someone beside me is crying. Someone else is shaking.

That’s when I realize I’ve been sold into a trafficking ring. They slap a number tag on me, lock me in a steel cage, and wait for dawn to ship us out.

A guard cracks my face with a rifle stock—sure I’m just another desperate man trying to disappear.

He has no idea a cage can’t hold a werewolf.

Especially not tonight—under a full moon.

I’m a retired Special Forces soldier. After I got out, I handled problems people didn’t want on paper, and I’ve seen enough dirty work to last a lifetime.

When I finally retired for real, I wanted a normal life.

So I came back to the orphanage where I grew up, planning to adopt a quiet seven-year-old boy I’d kept in touch with for years.

But the moment I arrived, I was told he’d already been “adopted.”

I called the family to make sure he was safe. On the line he said, “I’m fine.”
Then I heard it—fingernails tapping in a pattern: three short, three long, three short.

The distress signal I had taught him.

I stormed into the director’s office and forced the truth out: the adoption papers were fake. He wasn’t taken into a home. He was sold.

They think I’m just a returning orphanage worker.
They have no idea what I’ve done out there—and no idea I’m very good at cleaning up this kind of mess.

I endured in silence for five years, and everyone treated me like worthless trash. My wife sacrificed our daughter for vanity, my in-laws called me bottom-tier scum, and a senator wanted me dead to divide up my fortune. They thought I was just an ant they could trample at will. Until I produced the Supreme Commander's immunity medallion, until armed helicopters hovered above the courthouse, until I forcibly hijacked the national broadcast, they finally realized what kind of existence they had provoked. I am "Night Asura"—the one man in this world who should never be crossed.

At Nico's funeral, the screen of the phone in my hand suddenly lit up, and I accidentally answered a FaceTime call from the Dario Falcone of three years ago.
On the screen, he was still wearing that faded leather jacket, the scar above his brow left from protecting me.
He was still a penniless bodyguard, clutching my ultrasound report with barely contained excitement, his eyes shining:
"Vittoria, isn't our baby adorable?"
"Do you think it's a strong little boy or a beautiful little girl?"
"No matter who he takes after, I'll protect him with my life."
I knelt on the cold floor, staring silently at him.
The Dario from three years ago sensed that something was wrong. The smile slowly froze on his face.
The next second, the heavy church doors were kicked open.
The priest's prayer came to an abrupt stop.
The Dario of three years later, the terrifying Mafia Don, strode inside.
His tailored suit was immaculate, while the bodyguards behind him roughly knocked over the wreaths lining the aisle.
He stopped in front of me, his voice cold and utterly emotionless.
"Vittoria, you actually staged a fake funeral for your own son just to get revenge on Colette. You really are sick."
I didn't look up or acknowledge his fury. I simply stared at the bodyguard on the screen from three years ago, the one who looked utterly bewildered.
Then, numb, I turned the phone around and pointed it at the tiny white coffin in the center of the hall.
Looking at the screen, I answered the man's question from three years ago.
"A boy. He was adorable, and he had eyes just like yours."
"But he's already dead."

I was an orphan, and a rare heart condition ate away at me for twenty years. The night I died in that cold hospital room, a reaper in a black robe came for me.

He told me if I crossed into a world of werewolves, into the Moonheart Pack, and made Estelle's family genuinely love me — Estelle being the real daughter who'd died a horrible death there — and if I rewrote the ending where they all went mad and tore each other apart, I'd get my health back for good. A second life.

For twenty years in that body, I loved every single one of them with everything I had.

My husband Rhett was the youngest Alpha the pack had ever had. I mentioned once that I wanted Alaskan wild berries, and he drove a thousand miles overnight to get them. My mother Sylvia, the pack's head healer, made me tonics herself every single day. My father Everett and my brother Callum spoiled me so much the whole pack envied me for it.

I thought I'd actually rewritten my fate. I thought I was the happiest person alive.

Until that night.

I'm carrying a berry pie I baked myself toward the council hall when I hear my mother's voice, flat and cold.

"Estelle's heart is finally in perfect condition. Now's the best time to take it."

"Her heart buys Lila's life. She should be grateful for it." Rhett says it like it's nothing. "Once we take the heart, I'll dissolve the mate bond myself."

So this is it. All that kindness was just to grow a healthy heart for their adopted girl.

Three years. I've spent three years trying to love them, to thaw them out, to change things.

Then let it end here.

I'm the mafia heir's practice girlfriend.
He uses me to learn how to control his temper, how to kiss, how to make love.
All so he won't freak out his true love after they get married.
His guys worry: "Boss, you're not actually catching feelings for the maid's daughter, are you?"
Michael laughs coldly: "Would you fall for a sex toy?"
Everyone thinks I'm pathetic, but I keep smiling while I hand him knives and light his cigarettes.
Until news breaks that he's engaged.
His mom slaps down a hundred-million-dollar check: "Get away from Michael. Disappear forever."
I take the money like a good girl and vanish.
But that night, I hear Michael tried to kill himself and got rushed to the ER.

Five years ago, my fiancée and a chaebol heir broke my ribs and threw me into the sewer like trash.

Five years later, they implanted a neurotoxin bomb into the back of my sister's neck, forcing me on all fours to crawl between the security guards' legs into their engagement banquet at a Manhattan penthouse hotel.

My ex-fiancée poured champagne over my wounds, while the chaebol heir ground caviar into the muddy water with his leather shoes, forcing me to lick it clean like a dog.

The room full of Wall Street elites laughed at my humiliation, thinking I was still the same bottom-tier temp worker from back then.

They had no idea that through my micro-earpiece, a heavy armored division was already on standby under the cover of night.

When the confirmation came that the bomb had been defused, I slowly stood up straight.

Outside the window, engines roared. Ten heavy Black Hawk helicopters tore through the curtain of rain, their heavy machine guns instantly shattering the banquet hall's reinforced glass.

Looking down at the chaebol heir who was now slumped in the muddy water, I drew my sidearm: "The debt from five years ago—today, I'm collecting it with your family's lives."

It was my fourth time putting on a wedding dress.

To protect myself against my own parents, I hired a ten-man security detail.

I specifically chose the most isolated chapel in the suburbs.

Because at my first three weddings, they acted like absolute maniacs—destroying my rings and making me a complete laughingstock in front of everyone.

I just couldn't understand what kind of parents would do such a thing.

This time, I actually thought I could finally marry Liam in peace.

Until the bridal suite door was kicked open.

And my dad, once again, snatched my diamond ring away.

Three years after my first love, a Mafia Don, handed me over to his enemies, he finally came to “rescue” me.
Not out of guilt—but because his daughter needed my blood.

Don Silas held me and cried as if his heart were breaking, saying he had thought of me every day.
How ridiculous—his wife Serena stood beside him, and behind them was their daughter, Ava.

I pretended to be moved.
Pretended I still loved him.
Pretended I was willing to be his daughter’s blood donor… and his second wife.

Only one person knew I was acting.
Underboss Liam—the only one who ever managed to get messages to me during those three years of captivity.

“I’ll find a way to get you out.” he said.

But on the day we planned to escape, the Gravoni family—the very people who had imprisoned me—arrived.

Their Don, Joe, looked at me with deep remorse.
“Vera, I’m sorry. Back then, I didn’t know… you were my late sister’s daughter.”

Now both families want me.

But all I want… is to leave alive.

After Martina Martinez and Benjamin Walker's breakup, paparazzi captured photos of the business tycoon entering the Walker family mansion with a mysterious woman late at night.

This caused a stir, and this wealthy family was bombarded by various media outlets.

During a phone interview, the gossip reporter asked, "Miss Martinez, how do you feel now that Mr. Walker has a new girlfriend?"

Martina held her painful forehead and looked towards Benjamin, who was adjusting his suit by the floor-to-ceiling window. He gestured for her to come over and help him with his tie.

Holding her phone, Martina responded, "It's... complicated!"

The reporter's heart leaped with joy and asked, "Is it heartbroken?!"

Martina was about to nod, but Benjamin raised his eyebrows and took her phone away.

His deep and alluring voice was heard on the other end of the line, "New girlfriend? Whose?"

Harper spent ten years as Joel's perfect girlfriend... until he dumped her to boost his brand. Now Joel's getting married, and Harper's crashing his wedding on the arm of Crew Lawson, the one player Joel hates most. It's supposed to be fake: three months of PR revenge. But Crew's hiding a dangerous addiction, Harper's hiding real feelings, and Joel's hiding the truth about why he really left. Some fake relationships burn too hot to stay pretending.

He grabbed my hair and dragged me downstairs. His grip on my hands and feet ached terribly. I sobbed and wept, silent tears streaming down my face. I was powerless to break free, my left hand clutching my broken right wrist.

He was a beast inhabiting this mansion, inflicting inhuman torture on my poor soul. He had created a living hell for me, this pitiful girl, within his castle.

On this cold winter night, he threw my wounded body into the icy pool, arrogantly enjoying it all, drinking and smoking expensive cigars. A satisfied, cold smile played on his lips as he reveled in my pain. His face was filled with the darkness of sin.

“How...more...am I…still…standing?” I stammered, my lips trembling.

Zain paused, thinking. Then, turning away from her, he replied:

“Until you die!”

With that, he left. As he wished. At that moment, my wish came true; I died.

But not in a frozen pool; I was struck in the head by a bullet from afar, blood splattering everywhere—that was far more gruesome.

My consciousness began to fade, but suddenly, I opened my eyes again and found myself mopping the floor in an ordinary restaurant.

I was startled: What happened? I was reborn? This is unbelievable!

"She's wolfless. She's worthless. She's not fit to be my Luna."
Those were the last words her fated mate spoke before claiming another woman as his Luna—after Thalia sacrificed her own wolf in a forbidden blood ritual to save his life.
Broken and abandoned, Thalia thought she had lost everything.
But the Moon Goddess had other plans.
Her wolf didn't die that night.
It split.
Now, three powerful Alphas are bound to the pieces of her broken soul:
The Pack Healer, whose gentle touch awakens a desire she can't deny.
The Rogue Alpha, who would burn the world before letting anyone hurt her again.
And the mate who rejected her, now on his knees begging for forgiveness.
As ancient magic awakens and rival packs close in, Thalia must uncover the truth behind her shattered wolf before it destroys everything.
And suddenly the question isn't who she belongs to anymore...

Lydia's POV

"The patient in Bed 7 has been here three months now, right? Not a single family visit."

"Her husband just pays the bills and leaves. Doesn't even look at her. Poor thing."

I lay in the hospital bed, listening to two nurses whispering outside my door. My fingers rested weakly against the edge of the mattress.

Three months ago, I was diagnosed with late-stage cancer.

My husband, Sebastian Carter, came once. He stood in the doorway—didn't step inside—signed the papers with a blank expression, and never came back.

Sebastian was a writer. He locked himself in his study all day, leaving me to spend night after night alone in the living room. We lived under the same roof like strangers from different worlds.

I'd grown used to this hollow marriage. I didn't even bother calling him anymore.

Footsteps echoed outside.

I turned my head toward the door. Sebastian stood there in his familiar charcoal coat, his face expressionless.

"You came." I was surprised. I forced myself to sit up, my body weak and trembling.

Sebastian didn't answer. He walked straight to the bedside and set a document on the nightstand. "Sign it."

I picked it up. The words at the top read: 'Divorce Agreement.'

The apocalypse arrives, rain stops worldwide, outdoor temperatures soar to 60 degrees Celsius, and everyone fights and loses their humanity over a single drop of water.
But I gave away dozens of cases of bottled water that I had stockpiled at home to my neighbors downstairs for free.
People laughed at my overflowing compassion; my wicked ex even hoarded two tons of water, waiting to see me thirsty and begging her on my knees like a dog.
But what they didn't know was that I didn't need water at all.
Because I'm not human.

I was cursed, trapped in a "Trial of Sincerity"—I could only regain my freedom if she spoke the words "I love you" from the bottom of her heart.
For five years, I’ve taken bullets for her, gone to prison for her, and stood on the brink of death four times. She would only call me "my best friend" or say "I need you," but she never uttered those three words.
Four times, she abandoned me as I lay dying, rushing instead to the side of another man.
The fifth time, with a bullet in my abdomen and my insides exposed, I lay on the operating table. She finally wept, screaming "I love you"—once, twice... twelve times in total.
Too bad. After waking up from that fourth brush with death, I had already signed a Do-Not-Resuscitate (DNR) order.
This time, my heart has stopped beating. Not because of my wounds, but because I’ve made my choice: I won't let her save me.

My Husband Died to Join Me I begged him to see me. He didn't. He believed her. Every word. I died in my bedroom. When I woke up, no one could see me anymore. She stole my husband. My home. My son. Then she painted me as insane. Everyone believed I was the monster. But there was a hidden camera. When he finally saw the footage, he broke. He avenged me. Then he made one last promise. This time, he came to find me.

When my family went bankrupt, my fiancé teamed up with my best friend and sold me to an underground club to pay off their debts.
To secure an investment, that scumbag handed me over to the most powerful kingmaker on Wall Street.
But the moment the call connected, I froze.
The big shot my cheating ex was groveling to was actually my first love—the man I dumped five years ago because he was poor.
Looking at the smug jerk who still had no idea who he was dealing with, I let out a cold laugh.
A deadly revenge game had just begun.

Here is an adaptation crafted in the style of a bestselling contemporary Western psychological thriller or domestic drama hook, using fast-paced, high-tension American English:

For three years, I was the envy of Manhattan’s elite—the untouchable heiress with the flawless life.

My husband? The media constantly fawned over him, dubbing him "God’s gift to women" and the absolute epitome of a perfect gentleman.

Then came the video. The damn video that shattered it all.

Kneeling on the floor, wearing a thick leather collar like a pathetic stray, was the man I had loved deeply for years.

At the other end of the leash stood another woman, the stiletto of her red-soled Louboutin pressing ruthlessly into his cheek.

"Tell me, what are you?" she demanded.

"I'm Mistress Elena's dog," he whimpered. "I just want to get away from Sienna... I'm so sick of that suffocating bitch."

Every vow, every promise we ever made, instantly dissolved into a sick, twisted joke.

But instead of breaking down, I just smiled. And I hit save.

If he wanted to act like a dog so badly, I’d be more than happy to oblige. I was going to make sure he choked on that damn leash.

"Let Aria have the Stanford recommendation. Quinn owes her."
I stared at the family group chat—the one I wasn't in—and let out a cold laugh.
In my past life, I went completely hysterical over this, only to earn my family's disgust and a miserable death.
Now, reborn and given a second chance, I looked at the room full of guests celebrating My success, and walked straight to the microphone.
"Everyone, the party is over. I'm turning down the Stanford spot."
Under my family's stunned gazes, I dumped my champagne into the trash bin.
This rotten family? I'm done with them.

“You’re not a daughter of this family,” my mother hissed in the dim light, her eyes burning with fury. “If you can’t support your sister Francesca, then get out.”
I should have seen it coming. In the Moretti family, family means everything—unless you're me. Adriana Moretti, the disappointment. My perfect sister, Francesca Moretti, got all the love, the titles, and even my fiancé, Salvatore Romano. And me? I got an engagement ceremony that no one bothered to show up to. Not even the man who once swore he'd always be mine.
That night, I ran.
Now, I've built a new life in the Genoa mafia, where power is the only rule that matters. I’ve learned to fight, to lead, and to make my enemies kneel with nothing more than a look. But when I receive a message saying that Francesca is on the brink of death and the family demands I come back…

I’m a convenience store owner.

When the acid rain apocalypse hit, it ate through metal, wrecked power, and turned clean food and water into currency.

Last time, I made one mistake: I opened my door to my ex, Claire Voss, and her lover, Derek Hale. They didn’t come for shelter—they came for my stash. The blade in my abdomen taught me what mercy buys in a broken world. I killed them, but as my vision faded, the radio crackled with one final update: the disaster was ending.

Day thirty. I didn’t live to see morning.

Then I woke up—one week before it began.

This time I do only one thing: lock myself in my underground storage room with exactly thirty days of food and water, and wait for the rain to stop.

But Claire is hoarding again, louder than ever—embezzling money, emptying my shelves, trying to starve me in the first week so I’ll crawl back begging.

That’s when it hits me:

She thinks the apocalypse lasts forever.

She has no idea it only lasts thirty days.

【This story contains explicit adult (R18) content and BDSM elements. It is strictly for mature readers.】
——
After my family went bankrupt, I was handed over to the mob boss Nathaniel to be his lover. He chained my neck and made me kneel naked by the bed.
"Be a good little canary for me."
Little did I know, my ex-boyfriend was Nathaniel's niece's fiancé, and his nephew had a habit of stealing Nathaniel's favorite women. 
I was forced into affairs with several men until Nathaniel found out. He yanked my hair and thrust into me forcefully. "Tell me, who do you belong to?"
A gunshot rang out, glass shattered, and several men burst into the room. "Nathaniel, you can't keep her all to yourself!"
In this dangerous game of cat and mouse, I became stronger. This time, I would make them kneel at my feet, one by one.
——
Nathaniel's fingers were already coated in slickness as they pumped in and out. Victoria writhed in discomfort. "Not enough... need something... bigger..."
A wicked gleam flashed in Nathaniel's eyes as he reached behind his back and pulled out a small handgun, pressing it against her wet entrance, slowly pushing it in.
"Ah! Mr. Cross, it hurts, I'm gonna break..."

Lunara Throneborn was born to be queen.

Blessed with hair the color of moonlight and eyes like liquid silver, she carries the ancient bloodline of the Alpha Kings, the rightful ruler of all werewolves. But she has one flaw. She is human. A werewolf without a wolf.

Her parents are ashamed of her. Her twin sister, Aurora Throneborn, blessed with a wolf though weak, is being groomed to steal her throne. They are twins, but Lunara is the eldest. And they look nothing alike.

To hide their embarrassment, or perhaps to mock her, Lunara is sent to Vicjen Royal Academy, the most elite werewolf institution in the world, with her identity concealed. She is ranked at the very bottom. Human. Powerless. Invisible.

But the Moon Goddess does not make mistakes.

Four Cardinal Alphas, blessed warriors destined to protect and claim the true Werewolf Queen, are waiting within the academy’s walls. They do not know who she is. She does not know what she is. But when her dormant power begins to stir, responding to their presence in ways she cannot control, everything changes.

One can read her mind and control her body with a smirk.

The second burns with obsessive fire and will destroy anyone who hurts her.

The third commands wind and lightning with the calm of a king.

The fourth can awaken wolves with a touch. But will he awaken her?

Four alphas. One throne. A queen who does not know her own power with mates who swear their loyalty to a false queen.

At Vicjen Royal Academy, hierarchy is everything. Lunara entered as the lowest. But she will rise. And when she does, the entire werewolf world will kneel.

My magic has always been a little unpredictable.
Singing cinnamon rolls? Normal.
A judgmental broom? Happens all the time.
Accidentally turning my fated mate into a fox five minutes before opening my bakery for the Harvest Festival?
That's a first.
As if that wasn't bad enough, my fated mate turns out to be the impossibly handsome Lord of the Autumn Court. Before I can figure out how to change him back, half the village decides I cursed him on purpose to settle an old family grudge, and suddenly the Autumn Court guards are hunting me.
Now my bakery has been abandoned, my reputation is in ruins, and I'm fleeing across the realm with one very sarcastic fox tucked beneath my cloak.
Unfortunately, sharing a journey with my grumpy little fox is becoming far more dangerous than the guards chasing us. Because every mile we travel, every campfire we share, and every impossible moment we survive together makes one thing painfully clear...
Falling in love with my fated mate was never supposed to happen while he still had four paws and a tail.

My body pressed against Raymond's, my kisses stretching from his lips to his chin and throat.

He suddenly rolled over and pinned me underneath him, gripping my chin tightly. "You asked for it!" He growled, grabbing my lips and kissing me furiously.

I let out a playful whistle and trailed my fingers down his chest before deftly undoing his belt.

Raymond's breath was coming in quicker and quicker, his eyes locked on mine. "Damn it, Amelia, I'm going to fuck you"

But I wasn't there to fuck, I was there to torture him. As he lunged at me, I quickly flipped him over and handcuffed him to the table. "Sorry, tonight is my time, not yours."
After that night of madness, I fled in a panic. Five years later, I returned with our child

After Raymond found out about my transgressions, I was convinced I wouldn't live to see the next dawn.

I distanced myself from him, feared him, even considered hurting him.

To my surprise, the aloof heir to the Adams family clasped my hand and pleaded, "Honey, when are you gonna fuck me again?"

I sacrificed ten years of my life in prison for Alaric. I burned my hand in a raging fire, just to save our four-year-old son.
Yet the family I saved abandoned me. My husband favored his scheming stepmother. My own son called me dirty, rejecting his birth mother. To humiliate me, Alaric even bet half a million on my dignity.
Tired of endless humiliation, I chose to leave the cold father and son who broke me completely.
Just as I fell into despair, my childhood sweetheart—now a powerful CEO—returned. He swore to guard me closely, making up for all the warmth I had lost.

Three years ago, billionaire Theodore Chambers handed Victoria Ellis divorce papers with cold eyes and colder words—all for the sake of his first love, Isabella Waters.
Victoria didn't cry. She didn't beg.
She simply signed her name, walked out of that golden cage, and disappeared from the world of the rich.
What the world didn't expect…
Was for the discarded ex-wife to rise from the ashes—not as a socialite, but as the world's most sought-after reconstructive mortician. Behind every high-profile crime scene and closed casket, she was the one restoring dignity to the dead—and building a name powerful enough to shake law enforcement and the elite alike.
Now, at a funeral of all places, their paths cross again.
She stands beside another man, radiant, untouchable.
He watches in disbelief—his ex-wife, no longer his.
"You handle corpses every day. Aren't you afraid of bad luck?" he growls, grabbing her wrist.
She smiles coldly.
"In my heart, the grass over your grave has already grown two meters tall."
But fate has one final card to play.
When Victoria finds Theodore lying in a pool of blood, clutching an old photo of her, everything unravels.
Was it too late after all?
Or is love just another body she's not willing to reconstruct?

Last time, she chased the “true love” a corporate spy sold her—publicly branded me controlling, stole my core tech, and helped him shove me off a rooftop.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back before it all began.

This time I didn’t expose her, didn’t confront her, and didn’t beg her to stay. I set the trap—watched her come close again, test my limits, and steal the “core technology”…

Until the stolen code blew up the rival company, until she was unmasked in front of the cameras and taken away in handcuffs.

Through tears, she demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner he was a corporate spy?”

I answered only, “I did. Last life.”

My name is Damian Lemaître.

In my past life, I was Serafina Camarilla's lapdog for ten years, being drained of my life, used, and squeezed dry of my last bit of value.

I opened my eyes and found myself back at the scene of the blood pact ceremony. She sat on the high seat, waiting for me to kneel down and swear the oath with the same excitement as in my previous life.

"Damian Flamel, are you willing?"

"No."

Before the apocalypse hit, my ex-girlfriend called me, laughing like a maniac: "Jack, you pathetic loser—still playing that stupid farming game? Gonna whack zombies with a hoe? Open the door right now, get on your knees, and beg us, and maybe we'll throw you some table scraps."
I listened to the faint scrape of a tactical knife being drawn on the other end of the line, and silently glanced at my computer screen—at the maxed-out Greenfield Manor game, with its gold cap glowing at [999,999,999] .
"You misheard." I dropped my voice, lacing it with just the right amount of embarrassment. "I was checking the weather forecast."
The other end erupted in unrestrained laughter: "Then forecast this—how you're gonna die today!"
I hung up without changing my expression, flipped open the system, and spent a million on the [Absolute Defense Shield] —then brought out a steaming plate of roasted meat.
Forecast?
I forecast that tonight, you'll be gnawed down to bare bones by zombies.

I was never supposed to exist in the Blood Moon Pack, low-born, no surname, no family to shield me.
Yet the Alpha chose me and called me “his one and only mate for this lifetime”.
He said he loved me.
So I endured. I stepped back. I forgave him again and again.
Until the day I was pushed down the stairs, dragged into the punishment grounds, strapped to an electric restraint bed, and heard them calmly discussing how far they should go this time; what kind of punishment would finally make the “real family” feel at ease?
That was when I understood in their world, I wasn’t a mate. I wasn’t family. I wasn’t even seen as a person. I was just a bargaining chip, but something disposable, something meant to be sacrificed when convenient.
So I learned to stay quiet, to remember everything, and to wait.
They thought I died in that fire.
But when I stepped back into the moonlight, I was no longer an Omega.

The day I signed the divorce papers, Ethan Frost lit up the night sky with thousands of drones spelling out, ‘Vivian Moore, I love you.’ The whole city celebrated his new romance.
On our daughter, Sophie’s birthday, he watched coldly as Vivian’s daughter snatched away her favorite Elsa princess cake—and didn’t even blink when I was shoved down the stairs. Bleeding and trembling, I looked up to see him tenderly massaging Vivian’s feet.
But what truly shattered me was the day Sophie struggled in the pool—Ethan held me back, eyes dark, roaring, “What do you want?”
Later, he scrambled to Sophie’s photo on his knees, crying “Where’s Sophie? Bring her out.” While I only felt absurd, I smiled through my tears “you will never see Sophie again—ever.”

My mate—Alpha Jasper—knelt on one knee, proposing to me at my birthday party when Sienna Burrows suddenly appeared.
She was his fated mate once. His first love.
Dressed in the exact same backless red gown I was wearing, she stood there like a queen, regal and untouchable.
She let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Hah. Alpha Jasper, no matter how perfect a copy may be, it will never be me."
Alpha Jasper didn’t even spare her a glance. Instead, he turned to me, gently taking my left hand in his. His voice was deep, filled with emotion.
"Cynthia, will you marry me?"

Divorce + Winning Back the Ex + Clear-headed Heroine + Career Comeback
Amelia Carter had sacrificed her career for love, staying in a secret marriage for three years. Every day, she prepared lunch with her own hands for Eric Reeves—only to be repaid with trending headlines of him accompanying his "first love" to a prenatal checkup.
Her heart turned to ice.
Slamming the divorce papers in front of him, she said coolly, "Sign it. I'm setting you free."
Later, when he came begging with red-rimmed eyes, she merely smirked. "Mr. Reeves, the whole city knows you're... lacking. I still have my pride to maintain."

"In the toxic halls of Eastview High, Aria Bellwyn has mastered the art of being invisible. But when she's forced to tutor golden boy Knox Hale, she's thrust into a world of danger and desire. As they navigate the treacherous social hierarchy, Aria becomes the target of Knox's manipulative ex, Blaire, and the ruthless queen bee, Sarah. But Knox's secrets run deeper he's trapped in a deadly debt to a local crime lord, and Aria's the only one who can help him take down the corrupt empire controlling the school. As they risk everything to expose the truth, can they survive the betrayal lurking in every corner and find love in the process?

Dive into this heart-pumping, high-stakes romance where the line between invisible and irresistible is about to get blurred."

Victoria discovered that I hadn't submitted any supplemental medical expense claims for two weeks.
She assumed I had finally been disciplined and had given up what she called "the exploitative nature of the lower class."
Little did she know, my backpack held the signed divorce papers and my mother's death certificate.
As I turned to leave, I was still wearing the discounted trench coat she'd casually given me three years ago when we got married.
What she didn't know was that I, a deep-sea geology genius from MIT, willingly endured three years of her humiliation and ridiculous rules, just so my mother could stay in her conglomerate's private hospital to prolong her life.
Now, my mother has died because of unpaid bills , and even her ashes are carried by me in a cheap canvas bag.
Now that my loved one is dead, there's no need for me to continue being her obstructive dog on Wall Street. The lives she owed with those approval forms, I will settle with the collapse of her entire conglomerate empire.

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

Once, I was the Golden Dragon Princess, loved by my family and cherished by the man I would have died for. Then one accusation shattered everything. My dragon core was sealed, and I was cast into the frozen abyss to repent for a crime I never committed. Three years later, I died alone beneath the endless snow—on the very day my fiancé was set to marry my sister, the one who framed me. He stared at my lifeless face, trembling. “Seraphina… please wake up.”

On the night before my sister's bone marrow transplant, my parents confiscated my EpiPen and locked me in the attic.

Their "genetic consultant" warned them that the medication would contaminate the stem cells meant for my sister.

I had eaten the meal they provided—one secretly laced with lethal traces of nuts.

The resulting anaphylactic swelling was suffocating me completely.

I frantically bashed my head against the door. "My pen... Mom, I can't breathe..."

"Stop putting on a show!" Mom snapped through the wood. "That meal was entirely nut-free! Are you faking an allergic reaction just because you can't stand the thought of your sister finally getting well?"

Her footsteps retreated.

Agonizing pain and oxygen deprivation overtook me as I clawed at the floor until every one of my nails snapped off.

Until my breathing stopped completely.