5753 Book(s) Related to one lustful night with my alpha professor

Emily Fields never meant to become a killer.

She was twenty-two when she stabbed a man eleven times behind the bar where she worked. She remembered the first strike. She never remembered the other ten.

Seven months later, the victim suddenly withdrew the charges without explanation.

With nowhere to go and only forty-one dollars to her name, Emily accepts an offer that sounds too good to refuse: become the live-in maid and companion of a wealthy widow at an isolated estate.

The job is simple.

Take care of the old woman.

But the Holloway estate is full of things that don't make sense.

Emily starts waking in parts of the house she has been forbidden to enter, with no memory of how she got there. She finds old photographs that leave her with a strange sense that she has seen them before. The widow watches her with an unsettling familiarity, as though Emily's arrival has been expected for much longer than she realizes.

Then there are the widow's three sons.

Max likes to watch her.

Will can't stop touching her.

And Finn avoids her so completely that Emily begins to wonder what he is afraid will happen if he gets too close.

Emily has spent most of her life believing her story began when she was found and taken into care. No family she could remember. No real answers about where she came from.

But someone inside the Holloway estate seems to know.

And as Emily begins digging into the family's secrets, she realizes everyone around her has been hiding something... including herself.

Because the greatest mystery isn't simply what happened before she ended up in the orphanage.

It's why she can't remember any of it.

When Mila transfers to Northshore Academy, she wants a fresh start. She doesn’t expect to clash with Cole, the cold and feared hockey star everyone avoids.

Cole is the best player in the school. He barely talks. No one dares to challenge him—until Mila steps onto the ice and proves she can play just as well.

Their rivalry turns into a public challenge. The rule is simple: if Mila wins, Cole must carry her school bag every day for six months. If Cole wins, Mila will have to accept the embarrassment.

Mila wins.

From that day on, Cole walks beside her to school, silent and serious, carrying her bag. Rumors spread. Students stare. What starts as a punishment slowly turns into something neither of them expects

He has dark hair with very beautiful blue eyes, a cold and charismatic person.

I often see his work which is very good and my favorite, a painting of a toddler girl in a pink dress.

I thought it was an ordinary painting, but not for people who claim to know his dark past.

They say, the toddler painting is a manifestation of his mental illness which has an affinity for young children.

Levi William Stanley or Adam Joseph McCartney, a sadistic killer who had the heart to brutally murder his parents when he was 12 years old.

However, I couldn't believe the rumors. How could someone as handsome and great as him is a murderer?

People say, don't look at a book by its cover. But, is it true that my favorite lecturer is a murderer?

When the hospital called, I thought I was going to lose him.

The moment I burst into his room, Nathan was alive, but the way he looked at me, like I was a complete stranger.

"I'm sorry, you are...?"

My husband had forgotten everything. Three years of marriage, from the moment we met to falling in love, all erased.

But what's even more absurd? He stared at his bother Nolan and said, "Did I just... fall in love at first sight with a stranger?"

Listening to him frantically ask Nolan in the hospital room "Is this normal?", a crazy idea suddenly hit me—

Three years ago, Nathan "acquired" me in just three months. From his secretary to his wife, so fast it felt like closing a business deal. I loved him, but something was always missing... like a real courtship, real romance.

Now, he has amnesia.

What if I told him we were just in a contract marriage? That our contract was ending soon and we were about to separate?

To the rest of the world, I was just a blue-collar "oil rig worker" battling the sun and storms at sea year-round.

But my true service record is locked deep in the Pentagon’s top-secret archives. Codename: "Ghost"—a specialist handling the military's deadliest black ops overseas.

The day my final mission ended, I pushed open my front door filled with anticipation, only to be greeted by a floor pooled with blood and smashed furniture.

An untouchable syndicate had beaten my wife black and blue and abducted my seven-year-old son, threatening to harvest him for the black-market organ trade.

Right now, safely holed up in a subterranean fortress, the arrogant syndicate boss is hiding behind multi-ton blast doors and dozens of hired guns, scoffing at the "cowardly" husband who only knew how to cry to the cops.

What they don't know is that, just a few minutes ago, I permanently shredded that disguise.

Let the hunt begin...

In the previous life, the apocalypse arrived.
I risked my life to protect my wife as she fled, even giving her the access chip to the underground safe zone as a favor.
But when she was ambushed, she didn't hesitate to pull her superior officer to shield her from a grenade! Afterwards, in an attempt to cover up her crime, she turned around and tearfully accused me of using someone as a human shield.
I was dried into a dried corpse amidst the scorn of thousands, while she stepped on my blood and bones to become the adopted daughter of the highest-ranking military officer.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the eve of my journey into the city.
As I watched her generously give away her chip to the refugees again, and try to use moral blackmail to force me to hand over my last means of survival, I smiled slightly...
This time, without my backing, let's see how you maintain your mask of kindness.

I was the most envied mafia wife in Chicago, until his Tibetan Mastiff tore apart what remained of our child.
Everyone called it an accident. I knew it wasn’t.
While I was bleeding out on the operating table, my husband was in the VIP ward, personally attending to his “traumatized” adopted sister. The whole family coddled her delicate state. Only I saw the smirk she couldn’t hide behind every calculated “panic attack.”
Then the Feds gave me a choice: keep playing the perfect, miserable wife, or vanish into a classified program so secret, I’d be dead to everyone I ever knew.
I signed. I uploaded the audio proof of their affair. I watched my old life disappear.
You swore you’d protect the family above all else, darling?
How fitting. My new mission is to protect this country from all threats.
Starting with you.

To escape the absurd arranged marriage with the Duke of Hawthorne—a ruthless billionaire who demanded absolute physical perfection around him and was rumored to fire servants just for being plain—I spent years painting on hideous freckles and a sickly yellow complexion.
I hid my true face beneath outdated tweed suits until Earl Julian Sutton knelt in my rose garden.
"Georgina, I don't care about your looks. It's your gentle soul I love," he vowed.
I believed him. I fought my greedy father and defied the terrifying Duke just to be with him.
Yet, on our wedding day, right before exchanging rings, Julian dropped my hand and rushed to his crying mistress—a C-list model with a mass-produced plastic face.
"She's too fragile, Georgina. You're strong..." he said shamelessly in front of hundreds of guests.
The high society crowd gasped, throwing me pitiful glances.
So this was the price of testing a man's heart.
Suddenly, the heavy doors swung open. The Duke of Hawthorne strode in, flanked by bodyguards.
He walked straight to me, gently touched my clean, flawless cheek, and sighed.
"You made me play along with this 'ugly duckling' game for so long, my future Duchess... Are you finally done testing these fools?"

I planned to give up on life.
Then I heard a cat yelling at a dog.
"Stop being so stubborn, meow! You will die!"
Wait, I can hear them?
Naturally, I bought the dog.
I spent my life savings—twenty dollars—to save a Golden Retriever who apparently curses in dog language.
We just make sense together: a broken human eating crushed instant ramen, and a broken dog deciding to protect her anyway.
I thought my sudden ability to understand their constant, hilarious bickering was just fate tossing me a bone.
But what I was completely unaware of was that this wasn't a glitch in the universe.
It was a supernatural kind of love.
And these two beautiful, damaged little animals hadn't just saved me from the edge... they were about to change my entire life...

I'm the forgotten eldest son of the Cross family.
My parents see me as a walking blood bag for my brother Colin, while my wife views me as a sinner destined to spend my life atoning for my mistakes.
When Audrey pressured me to donate a kidney, I agreed.
Not only did I agree, but I also liquidated all my assets and transferred them to my lab.
They thought I was foolish, that I was still begging for their love.
In reality, I was just tying up loose ends.
The night before the surgery, I coughed up a pool of blood.
Audrey laughed coldly over the phone: "Stop the act, Evan. You just want to dodge responsibility. You'll go to any lengths for attention."
The surgery was a "success."
Colin got the kidney he'd always dreamed of.
And I died in the recovery room.
My soul floated in the air as I watched Audrey push open the hospital door, wearing a smile that dripped with pity, ready to put on a show of "redemption."
"Evan, I know you've been wronged. Let's start over..."
The only response to her was the white sheet covering my lifeless body.

My marriage to Matthew was a transaction, a substitute—everything except love. When his white moonlight came back, I was abandoned, diagnosed with gastric cancer, and carrying his child. His late regret could never bring back my life, nor could it keep our unborn baby.

My twin sister, Genevieve, caught the eye of a mafia don, Kael Rourke, at a charity gala.
Kael declared on the spot that she would be his wife, the donna of Rourke family.
But she was already deeply in love with her boyfriend.
When a ambush left the Kael in a deep coma, his cartel demanded their bride immediately. 
They believed a wedding would stabilize their empire and, by some old tradition, wake Kael up.
Genevieve refused to marry a dead man walking.
So, she knocked me out—her identical twin sister—and sent me to the Rourke estate in her place. 

Then, she eloped overseas with her boyfriend, vanishing without a trace.
I was forced to marry Kael. Miraculously, on our wedding night, he woke up. He quickly took back his empire, his power greater than ever. 
Since I was forced into this marriage against my will, I resented him and never gave him a smile. 
And he only saw me as a substitute for Genevieve.
When he was happy, he spoiled me. When he was angry, he was cruel.

Ten years later, Genevieve suddenly returned.
She ran to Kael, crying that I had pushed her into a lake to steal her place as his wife.
She claimed the drowning caused her to lose her memory, making her miss out on ten years with him.
Furious, Kael ordered his men to lock me in the dark basement of his compound.
Taking advantage of a visit, Genevieve tightly wrapped a iron chain around my neck.
"I'm sorry, dear sister. If you don't die, my lies will be exposed one day!"
I was strangled to death cruelly.

When I open my eyes again, I am back to the day the Rourke men came to collect the bride.
I step forward willingly. "Genevieve, go with your boyfriend. I will marry Kael Rourke in your place!"
In this life, I must be the mafia don's true obsession!

My husband bought a necklace for the woman who killed my mother.

When I saw my foster sister Rebecca Rebecca wearing that emerald necklace with Aaron at the party, I knew history would repeat itself. Seven years ago, my mother lost everything the same way—her husband, her dignity, and finally her life.

I wouldn't follow in her footsteps.

So after slapping Rebecca across the face, I told everyone I was divorcing him and walked out with my suitcase.

Rebecca thought she'd won again. Aaron thought I was just being hysterical.

Neither of them saw it coming—

This time, I'd make them pay.

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.

Three months ago, I was kidnapped. When Alexander rescued me, I woke up in a hospital bed with my clothes disheveled and bruises covering my body. What happened during those hours? I don't remember any of it.

A week ago, I found out I was pregnant. He held me as I shook and told me that it wasn't my fault. That he failed to protect me. Even if the baby wasn't his, he'd raise it. He'd still give me the perfect wedding.

But the guilt ate me alive until depression took hold.

Every night, sleep stays out of reach. Nightmares find me the moment I close my eyes. I've tried to end it. Three times now. Each time, someone found me just in time.

After the third failed attempt, I make tea and head toward his study to apologize. Voices drift through the door before I reach it.

"Are you out of your mind? Evelyn's your fiancée!" His friend sounds disbelieving. "You actually hired someone to kidnap her? Made her think she was assaulted? Just so Lily could take her place? Do you know how messed up that is? What that does to someone?"

Alexander's voice comes out calm. "Lily got sick because of me. Her dying wish is to marry me once before she goes. If I didn't push Evelyn out of the picture, her father would never let Lily take her place."

All those nights. All those nightmares. All those times I scrubbed my hands raw until they bled. It was all a lie. A setup.

For another woman.

I pull out my phone and call my father.

"Dad. I'll agree to the arrangement."

To please his mistress, Callum ordered me—pregnant—to dance barefoot in the black salt ice cellar.

When I stumbled back to the doorway to warm myself, the mistress covered her mouth and retched.

"I'm pregnant. I can't stand this death-stench of winter."

Only because I was a princess of the Winter Realm, born carrying frost in my veins.

Callum flew into a rage and had me locked inside a frost-crystal cage, sunk to the bottom of the ice well. No one was allowed to release me without his command.

"A princess of winter, afraid of the cold? What a joke!"

No matter how I struggled or begged, he couldn't have cared less. He and his mistress treated it as entertainment. And just like that, I froze to death at the bottom of that well.

What he didn't know was that although we winter-born are forged in bitter cold, when we carry a child, every drop of magic goes to protecting the baby. We have no defense left for ourselves. The very ice that shaped us becomes the thing that kills us.

Two days later, he was finally satisfied and ordered them to pull me up.

But I could never come back up again.

I chose the cheapest flowers in the shop because I thought my boyfriend was drowning in debt.
Hours later, I discovered he had sent his fiancée roses worth one hundred times more.
Julian Hart wasn't a struggling intern. He was the heir to Hart Group—and our entire relationship had been an experiment designed to test whether I was worthy of his fortune.
He expected me to forgive the lies.
He expected me to accept the career he destroyed.
He even expected me to come back after he refused to help save my grandmother.
Instead, I boarded a plane with another man and disappeared from his life.
Years later, the billionaire who once tested my love came begging for a second chance.

I am the only daughter of the Lycan King, the future queen destined to rule all packs. Yet my wolf, Nyx, is abnormally weak—like a stunted pup that never grew.
My parents told me that Lycan blood runs too strong, that I need to find my fated mate. Only through the mate bond can the seal be fully broken.
Ten days ago, Nyx suddenly whimpered in my mind, guiding my gaze toward Silvercrown Academy.
To find him, I concealed my identity as the Lycan King's heir and enrolled here as an ordinary transfer student.
I came here expecting a fairytale. Instead, what waited for me was brutal humiliation.

I stepped out of my OB-GYN appointment, only to be crushed by a speeding truck while my husband watched from the opposite curb, not even blinking.
I choked on my own blood before waking up on the exact same street corner.
I thought I had been reborn, but then I saw a glowing red number "4" burned into the skin of my forearm.
What the hell was happening?

The rain glistened over the harbor asphalt the night I meant to tell him I was pregnant — to lay out all my quiet hopes for our wedding and our future. That was the night I was stolen away.
I screamed for help from a city stitched with police tape and hollow warehouses, where every thread of trust had already frayed. The man who should have trusted me brushed my pleas aside.
As answers began to surface, what we once called love soured into guilt, consuming obsession, and cold, calculated cruelty. Blue gemstones glint amid burned‑away proof, storm‑lashed docks bear witness. And I am the voice they will never manage to bury.

I found out I was pregnant the same week our savings hit zero.
I didn't tell my boyfriend, Jovan. He was already hauling bricks all day and running deliveries half the night. One more thing on his shoulders, and I was scared it would break him.
So I said nothing. Just started picking up more work.
A friend got me a serving job at a private club downtown. Cash tips, she said. Pour tea, carry trays, nothing dirty about it.
I took it without telling Jovan that either. I told myself I'd surprise him with the extra money. I told myself this was me carrying my share of the weight, quietly, the way a good partner should.
That night, I pushed open the door to the biggest room in the club, tray balanced on my arm.
And there he was.
Center seat. A dozen people leaning toward him like he was the only light in the room.
Eighteen thousand a bottle. Seven or eight empty already on the table.

I died the day before my brother Beckett’s state equestrian qualifiers.

Just because Beckett had mistakenly taken sedatives and fallen into a coma, my mother firmly believed that I—a worthless, sickly burden—had deliberately poisoned him out of jealousy to ruin her perfect son's future.

Ignoring my fatal immunodeficiency, knowing that even a microscopic trace of wasp venom would kill me, she dragged me into the abandoned tack room infested with wasp nests and locked the door.

Hundreds of wasps swarmed out. My airway rapidly swelled and closed amidst excruciating pain.

Through the wooden door, I heard my newly awakened brother crying and pleading, along with my mother's cold obstruction and curses.

Leaning against the corner of the wall, I slowly released my bloody, mangled fingers that had been clawing at the door.

In the final moments before my consciousness scattered, I finally stopped struggling.

Mother, if dying in this sunless tack room was your final expectation for me, then... as you wish.

On my anniversary flight to New York, fate sat my cheating husband's mistress right beside me.

Alice spent the entire trip gushing about "her Daniel" while wearing the sapphire ring he'd called "too vulgar" for his wife—me.

"She's so pathetic," Alice laughed, describing how Daniel planned to dump his "clingy" spouse. "Good riddance!"

If only she knew his "pathetic" wife was the billionaire secretly bankrolling his success.

At JFK, Daniel threw money at my feet and told me to disappear.

I smiled, dialed my investment firm, and watched his face crumble.

"Hello, darling. Your sugar mama just quit."

I used to be the executive chef at a three-Michelin-star restaurant in New York. Then I worked in my son’s kitchen for three years without being paid a cent.

I sold my old house in Brooklyn to cover the restaurant’s startup costs. I even used my retirement savings to pay for the restaurant’s premium ingredients.

That night, I prepared an entire dinner for eighty guests by myself. By the time I finished, it was after midnight, and my stomach hurt from hunger. My protégé, Leon, cooked me a steak with an extra piece of Wagyu.

I had barely taken my first bite when my daughter-in-law, Jessica, stormed in and knocked the plate to the floor.

“David, get in here! Your mother’s hiding in the kitchen, stuffing herself with our most expensive ingredients!”

Leon jumped to my defense. “Chef paid for that herself!”

Jessica sneered. “With what money? David’s the one supporting her.”

But David hadn’t given me a cent in three years.

I looked at my son, waiting for him to stand up for me.

Instead, he tugged irritably at his tie. “Mom, taking the restaurant’s most expensive food without asking is stealing.”

Jessica pressed harder. “Today it’s beef. Tomorrow she’ll be stealing from the register.”

David nodded. “Just apologize to Jessica, Mom.”

I laughed in disbelief and ripped off my apron.

“Apologize? I quit.”

In my past life, I exposed my cousin Isolde's deadly secret just to save Darius from absolute ruin, binding myself to him in a Soul Pact instead.

My reward?

At three months pregnant, Darius chained me to a water dungeon altar, carved my stomach open alive, and smashed our unborn child to pieces right in front of my eyes—all as a twisted sacrifice to my cousin who supposedly "died for love."

When I opened my eyes again, I was right back at the Pact Selection Ceremony.

Watching him pull her into his arms like some priceless treasure, I simply smiled and took a tactful step back.

In this life, I am going to sit back and watch the two of them burn in hell together.

The day I closed another major deal, my fiancé, the CEO, smiles and tells me the credit and the bonus are going to the new intern.

I watch him lean in close to her, laughing, and something in me just stops caring enough to fight for it.

I sign the transfer request and ship myself off to the most useless department in the company.

What I don't expect is that a few days later, the same man who never looked twice at anyone beneath him is going to be on his knees begging me to come back.

Three years of marriage. Three pregnancies.

Every time I confirmed I was pregnant, my sister-in-law Ophelia would walk into the chapel behind the manor.

Then my in-laws would drag me to the hospital and force me to abort the healthy baby.

The night after my third miscarriage, I dragged my weakened body to follow her into the chapel.

The moment I pushed open that door, my blood ran cold.

In that instant, I finally understood why my three children had to die.

My husband never wore condoms with me. Said they ruined it for him. So I swallowed birth control pills for four years until they made me sick.
Then I found a half-empty box in his glove compartment. And a thong under his backseat.
That wasn't even the worst part.
The necklace I'd made from my mother's ashes—the one I'd been grieving over losing for a year—was dangling between his twenty-three-year-old trainee's tits. He stole it from our bedroom and gave it to her.
She caught me staring. She smiled.
When I confronted him, he slapped me. Then drove off with her crying in his passenger seat.
Her friends came to my hospital with a livestream, demanding I apologize for "bullying" her.
I led them straight to the parking garage.
They found her on a stretcher. Legs wrapped around my husband. No condom.
The whole internet watched.

As the only daughter of a mafia family, I learned early that trust doesn't come cheap. When my father got sick, he gave me an ultimatum: if I want to take over the family, I have to get married first.

Everyone assumed I'd pick my childhood friend, Vincent Moretti—son of my father's right-hand man. Hell, even I thought so. Until my last life, when he left me to burn.

Father died in an ambush. I was trapped in a metal cage at an abandoned dock warehouse while flames swallowed everything. I begged Vincent for help. He stood thirty feet away, the cage key right by his feet.

"Cat, as long as your father's alive, he'll never give me the family. This isn't personal. It's business."

Sophia was wrapped around him—my so-called best friend. She smiled at me and said she'd take good care of everything.

Before I lost consciousness, I saw a figure in black charging into the flames—Elijah, the bodyguard I'd called "trash" and "a dog."

Then I opened my eyes and woke up a month before my birthday party. This time, I'm giving that position to someone who actually deserves it.

But why is Vincent on his knees at my engagement party, crying and begging me to marry him?

I accompanied my husband, Kieran, down to the Antarctic station’s underground quarantine zone to rescue an ice-bacteria sample at negative forty degrees. Halfway there, he asked me to fetch some data. I was gone for exactly three minutes. When I came back, he had vanished.
The institute staff told me I had gone insane, wandering the halls searching for a husband who had been dead for three years.
They called Kieran’s mentor, Dr. Reiner. Through the phone, the old man wept, swearing that Kieran had fallen into the deepest ice rift in Antarctica three years ago. Not even his bones were recovered.
Branded a lunatic, I was thrown into a sealed bio-containment pod twenty miles away. I became a human guinea pig. Under endless rounds of experimental drugs, my organs failed one by one until I died on that cold metal table.
Then, I blinked. Kieran was standing right in front of me, rushing me to the lab...

I was four months pregnant when the truck hit my car.
I woke up on a gurney outside the OR, bleeding, half-conscious, thinking my husband was saving my life. Then I heard him through the door.
"The baby's gone. Her right hand is finished—her career's over either way. Just take her kidney now and put it in Mia."
My mother agreed. My father told him to switch my architectural draft to Mia's name before Friday.
Mia. The sister they'd raised for twenty years while I was missing. The sister whose body was failing. The sister my husband had apparently been in love with the whole time I was married to him.
I was supposed to die on that table. I wasn't supposed to hear anything.
But my phone was in my coat pocket, and the voice memo app had never stopped recording.
And now I had a choice to make.

For months, my stepsister Mia stole my taste, my nutrition, and my vitality with a mysterious system. While I wasted away to skin and bones, she glowed brighter, stole my career, and took my fiancé.
She thought she could feed on me forever.
But she forgot her fatal allergy. I turned every meal into her poison.
I starved her system, broke her perfect facade, and took back everything she stole. Now the parasite is dying… and I’m alive again.

My fiancé accused me of not caring about family.
To appease him, I planned a family vacation.
But the night before we left, he informed me that he'd given my first-class seat to his childhood sweetheart.
And me? He stuck me in coach on a flight flagged for possible terror threats.
Everyone in his family thought I should just go along with it.
That was the moment I woke up.
I tore up the itinerary and booked myself a trip to Hawaii instead.
Then I turned off my phone and let them sweat over the hotel bill.
It wasn't until their reservation got canceled that they finally started to panic.

My boyfriend faked being broke to test me. Three years of it.
When I turned down his last test, I watched him settle his new girlfriend's family debt in one afternoon. Cash he swore he never had.
Told me he'd been rich the whole time. Said he needed to know if I loved him or his money.
Said I failed.
I didn't argue. I just walked out.
Funny thing is, I wasn't broke either. I was the last pureblood heir to the strongest pack on the continent, and I'd been hiding that the whole time too.
Four years later, we ran into each other again. And this time I wasn't hiding anything.

When my fiancée’s medical exam revealed kidney failure, I prepared to sell our home—and even give her one of my kidneys.
Before sacrificing everything, I tested her with one lie.
I told her the dying patient was me.
She canceled our wedding in seconds, refused to return my money, and planned to keep our apartment after my death.
Then she picked up the report and saw the patient’s name.
It wasn’t mine.
It was hers.

"Tomorrow, dress formal. We're going back for the family sit-down."
"Are you going to make our relationship public?"
"Public what? You—as my Consigliere, or... as my mistress."
At the pre-engagement dinner, he picked simple Italian dishes, Black Forest cake, and pink-and-white roses for Amelie. Side by side, they smiled as they reminisced about their "fated encounters," his ears even turning red.
"We kept ‘running into’ each other in high school," she said.
I lowered my eyes with a small, bitter smile—those had all been his carefully designed coincidences.
When the accident happened, he pulled her into his arms first. "Don't be scared. Look at me." I shivered among shattered glass and the smell of blood. He never once looked at me.
Later, with the wedding was half prepared, I returned my signet ring, keys, and comm devices according to family rules, took my parents and emigrated. The sea wind shredded those passed New York nights.

Perry Lake never believed in fate, especially not when it came to love. To take revenge on her cold, power-hungry father, she broke off her engagement to Richard Scott, the ruthless Alpha of the feared Bloodmoon Pack. Walking away from that world should have meant freedom.

But one impulsive night changes everything.

Perry walked into Richard's room to end things. She never expected to end up in the bed of a stranger—an Alpha who overwhelmed her senses. Even worse, the Moon Goddess has bound them as fated mates.

Now, torn between the desire to escape and the pull of a bond she can't deny, Perry must face a destiny she never wanted—with the man she tried hardest to forget. But can love bloom where betrayal and secrets still linger?

I gave him three years of silent devotion behind a mask I never wanted to wear. I made a wager for our bond—he paid me off like a mistress.
"Chloe's back," Zane said coldly. "It's over."
I laughed, poured wine on his face, and walked away from the only love I'd ever known.
"What now?" my best friend asked.
I smiled. "The real me returns."
But fate wasn't finished yet.
That same night, Caesar Conrad—the Alpha every wolf feared—opened his car door and whispered, "Get in."
Our gazes collided. The bond awakened. No games. No pretending. Just raw, unstoppable power.
"Don't regret this," he warned, lips brushing mine.
But I didn't.
Because the mate I'd been chasing never saw me.
And the one who did?
He's ready to burn the world for me.

For six years, Cassandra poured her heart into raising her husband’s son, Rowan. Her world shatters when his first love, Nadia, returns and is revealed as Rowan's biological mother.
Her Alpha husband blatantly sleeps with Nadia in their marital bed and ruthlessly severs his mate bond with Cassandra.
Stripped of her Luna title, she is publicly humiliated as her husband declares, "My son doesn't need a murderer for a mother."

Even worse, the six-year-old boy she saved completely rejects her. Shouting, "You're not my mom," he ignores her heavy chains and desperate pleas, running to hug Nadia instead.
Banished and disgraced, Cassandra barely survives a fatal car crash, only to discover she is carrying her traitorous ex-husband's child.

Five years later, she rises from the ashes as the elite physician, "Dr. Frost." When the once-arrogant Alpha is poisoned and dying, he begs for her help and forgiveness. But she simply turns and walks away.

How will Cassandra exact her ultimate revenge? And when their five-year-old daughter is struck by a severe illness, will this tragic twist force a turning point in their deadly entanglement?

I was completely naked on the Vincent's lap, his cold hands steady on my waist while both of them fed me. It was erotic, and my heat made things worse. Klayton suddenly picked a dark cherry from the table. His eyes never left mine as he slowly pushed it between my legs, forcing the cold fruit into my already dripping pussy. He fucked me with it — in and out — until the cherry was warm and soaked. Then he pulled it out, brought it to his mouth, and bit down, juice running down his chin.

“Hmm.. Delicious,” he growled.
The sound went straight to my core.
I couldn’t take it anymore, I rushed to his waiting cock like the needy slut they'd turned me into.


Raven never planned to become addicted to the Rogue Alpha’s knot. She only chained him down that night because he was poisoned and feral. She rode his cock until he locked deep inside her and made her sees stars because the money would save her sister. And help her find her mother. She didn’t expect her body to start craving him. Or the sudden monthly heats that made her thighs slick. Nor strength that made her dangerous sometimes. But the absence of it in her for a long time always made her sick and slowly, she was becoming an addict to everything Klayton, the rogue Alpha. Things took a darker turn when Vampire King to taste her blood… and become just as obsessed. Now she’s caught between two dangerous men who both want to own her.

Worse? Both of them are willing to share her body — as long as they get to pump her full of beastly cum. The same beasts that destroyed the world as it once was.

Until she gets pregnant. That's when truths begin to unravel.
She realises she's not a powerless human playing victim in the game of beasts. She's a demon, a tool of revenge by an ancient power. She's the catalyst that will either bring an end to this war, or destroy the world in her wake.

What happens when the victim becomes the queen of terror and nightmares?

Isla Spencer stopped believing in home after her mother died.
Living in a house where her father adored another daughter more, she learned to make herself small, quiet, forgettable—until the day fate gave her something of her own.
Coel Reese, her mate, and a future she could finally belong to.
She loved him. When a rogue attack left him in a coma, she gave everything to keep his bloodline alive, only to end up catching him cheating with her stepsister.
And the child growing inside her? Not his.
A clinic error had implanted her with the sperm of Logan Vale—the most powerful, most feared Alpha in the territory.
One mistake. One contract marriage. One man who now owns her future.
Logan Vale wanted his heir, while Isla wanted a chance to build her own life.
When Cole and her family tried to destroy her again, she was no longer the old Isla Spencer.
She is a Genius doctor with a formula that could change everything.
And now, everyone who ever underestimated her will regret it.
Including that untouchable Alpha.

Everything she believed in was a lie.
Keira and Alden were Chosen Mates who built the powerful Stormfang Pack together—until she discovered their Mate Bond was a witch's illusion, and the child she raised was actually his with his true Fated Mate, the Omega Rena.
Broken and ready to leave, a secret letter reveals she is the long-lost daughter of Mooncrest Pack's Alpha, the sole heir to a legacy she never knew.
As her dormant Alpha blood awakens in rage, she vows to reclaim her birthright.
But when Kaelan, the cold and calculating Alpha King, approaches her and claims, "You are my Fated Mate," Keira is thrown into deeper confusion.
Why would he say that? And in a world built on deception, can a bond that begins as strategy ever become real… or is it just another layer of the game?

(From 'When His Wolves Sing' comes another epic tale)

"What Is Fate, Alpha Of Alphas?"

Fate:

In the heart of the training grounds, the Alpha of all Alphas stood, his presence commanding and his aura crackling with electricity. With his black hair billowing behind him like a cape, he fixated on a mysterious figure that materialized before him. As his eyes transformed, reflecting the colors of his father's Wolves, his Beta's urgent question fell on deaf ears. Without hesitation, he aimed his wolfsbane arrow at the target, his wolf battling for control. Against the pleas of his inner beast, he released the arrow, piercing the heart of his prey. The aftermath left him shattered, consumed by guilt and sorrow.

But Fate had more in store for him.

As he knelt, broken and weeping, his Lycan roared within him, demanding answers. The Alpha Of Alphas, rising to his feet, faced the lifeless form before him. Tears streaming down his face, he addressed his Beta, speaking softly of the cruel twist of fate that had befallen him. Forty years without a mate, only to be granted one by the Luna Goddess herself-a fierce Tiger, and not just any Tiger, but his sworn enemy.

And then, a voice emerged from the shadows.

A child.

Fate just got a whole lot more badass.

The night Araya was born, the Moon refused her. Marked as wolfless, mocked and forgotten, she grew up as prey in her own pack. Even her fated mate broke the bond with a smirk and left her bleeding at the border — for rogues to finish.

But they forgot one thing:
Ash remembers.
And so does the throne buried beneath it.

The forest did not devour her. It bowed.
The flame did not die. It waited.
Until, in the silence between heartbeats, something older than gods whispered:

“She is not blessed. She is not chosen. She is the reckoning the moon tried to silence.”

Now Araya walks again — no longer mortal, no longer meek. She is Hollow-Blood reborn, daughter of the fire that swallowed fate, heir to a throne no god dares name.

And fate has bound her to Dorian—Azrien—the exiled god chained to shadow and ruin. He expected to crave nothing but vengeance. Until her. Araya is the mate his immortal soul demands, the salvation he denies, and the spark that could either set him free… or burn the world to ash.

But enemies stir in silence.
Adira, the Luna who would claim the Alpha prince at any cost, forges a pact with a creature older than gods, a monster chained in rot and darkness. The price she pays will rip fate itself open.

Betrayals. Forbidden desire. Gods who bleed. Wolves who kneel.
And at the heart of it, one truth no prophecy can silence:

The gods will end.
She will not.

And the last prophecy carved into stone whispers:
“The Flame That Walks Returns.
Let the gods burn first.”

"I reject Eveline Shadowbrook as my mate. I have already chosen another mate to stand by my side." Everyone was shocked by Prince Cedric's revelation. Eveline quickly glanced to the side and saw a man with his back to the hall. She immediately recognized the scent she had sensed outside the royal hall as that of the alpha prince. Eveline, a strong and independent young woman, after offering herself as a substitute bride, faces rejection from Prince Cedric. Feeling unjustly treated, she aims to prove her worth and takes control of her destiny. Remaining true to herself, she embarks on a journey full of dangers, fighting against the oppressive monarchy of King Roderick while training with rebellious werewolves to hone her skills. As Eveline gains strength, she catches the prince's attention. She will have to overcome obstacles and make difficult choices that will determine her fate and reveal who truly rules her heart.

"What is the ultimate favoritism your partner gives you?"
On the third day after the IVF procedure, I came across this trending question on a werewolf forum.
Just as I was about to scroll past, a highly upvoted answer pierced straight through my eyes.
"I'm newly pregnant with the Alpha's cub, so I can answer this question."
"The favoritism is this: even though I’m not his official mate, he lied to the one at home—claiming she’s infertile due to health issues—just so I could conceive."
"He said: 'A human body is like a broken vessel. Only a strong she-wolf like me deserves to carry his cubs.'"
In the photo, the ruby necklace that belonged exclusively to me was hanging around her neck.
Trembling, I finished reading every word.
So this was his idea of a beautiful future—sowing his seeds in his lieutenant's bed.
So the agony of egg retrieval I endured was, in his eyes, nothing but the useless struggle of a broken vessel.
I laughed until tears fell.
Back then, I defied my father and even cut ties with my family just to marry this stray wolf.
"Ella, sooner or later, you’ll come crying back, begging for our forgiveness."
Now, it turns out I really have failed.
I pulled the IV needle from the back of my hand and dialed the number I’d blocked five years ago.
"In three days, I will return to the Hunters' Legion."

On the day of her coronation ceremony, Aysel cut open her palm to seal a blood oath with her fated mate.
Before she could finish—her cousin collapsed into the aisle crying for Aysel’s groom.
Again.
Her mother ran to comfort her.
Her father blamed Aysel.
Her mate abandoned her.
And in front of the entire werewolf world nobody chose her.
So Aysel made a choice of her own.
She rejected the Alpha.
She walked away from her family.
And she decided she would never beg for love again.
But what nobody knows is that inside her sleeps a forbidden royal bloodline capable of making every wolf submit.
Now the strongest Alpha on the continent has noticed her.
And unlike the others—he has no intention of letting her go.