ALPHA'S WITCH (Midnight Oath)
Content: (Warning! + 18 Sexual elements, Alpha Wolf, Witch, Cursed Love, Small Town, Young Wolf, War, Age Gap, Passion, Consensual Fantasy, Psychological Elements, Strong Female Lead, Drama, Romance)
Bound by blood, sealed by magic. You have finally come, Rose's daughter...
Eva Rose is the last and most powerful heir of a sacred witch bloodline.
Kael is a cursed Crimson Alpha King.
Centuries ago, on the night they discovered they were fated mates and were about to be married, their enemies attacked to destroy them both. To save Kael, Eva made a desperate choice , she trapped him in a magical sleep for 200 years. The price was her own life.
But their love was so powerful that Eva did not truly die , she was reborn. Through her own bloodline, she returned to the world as the same woman, with the same soul, the same heart.
Now, who is friend and who is enemy? And why does this man feel so strangely familiar? How can you escape someone who even visits your dreams?. 📌📚🔥
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Chapter 1
When did I first feel loneliness? Or rather, when did it sink so deep into me?
I think the day we buried my grandmother, loneliness took me over completely.
What's the hardest thing for an orphaned girl?
Is it learning to accept death because you've lost so much already? Or is it holding on to the only person you have, so deeply it nearly destroys you?
I suppose both were true for me. My grandmother was everything.
Years ago, she and I left this cursed town behind.
Because this town had taken my mother and father from me. Even the cause of their deaths was hidden away like some dark mystery. They only ever said: a fire.
I wouldn't learn until much later that it was a witch hunt.
And now, I'm carrying out my grandmother's last wish. Returning to this cursed place to spend the New Year in a lonely mountain cabin.
I can hear you asking why this was her last wish. I'm surprised by it too. But my grandmother was always an extraordinary woman. So all I can say is, she must have had her reasons, and they made perfect sense to her.
I also want to let myself drift for a while, let life carry me. I need to accept that she's gone. Maybe this short holiday will do me good.
Three days later, I was driving along the icy road toward the town of Blackthorn.
As my red pickup climbed the hill, the wind filled my ears with an ominous moan. My only goal was to reach the cabin as fast as possible. Soon, in the middle of the snow-covered forest road, I spotted a dark shape. Drawing closer, I realized it was a vehicle.
"Looks like it broke down," I thought. A man stood there with the hood open, examining the engine. The closer I got, the more I wondered. Despite the bone freezing cold, he wore only a T shirt, as if he felt nothing.
For a moment I thought about just driving past, not getting involved. The town's hostility had rubbed off on me, I guess. But damn it. I couldn't be as cruel as these people. My grandmother raised me with kindness. So I pulled over on the right.
I reached for my coat in the passenger seat and put it on. The moment I stepped out of the car, I started shivering. It felt like my nose had frozen solid and was about to fall off. Fine, I'm the type who gets cold even in summer. But these cursed lands really put on a show with their freezing climate.
I walked a little closer and called out, "Hey, looks like you're stranded?"
The man lifted his eyes from the engine and looked at me. His gaze felt colder, deeper than the freezing air around us.
Then I studied him a little more. Aside from this unsettling scene, he was incredibly handsome. Breathtaking, even. Jet black hair, dark silver eyes, chiseled features, tall, muscular, and those piercing looks.
I think I was impressed. Only a little. Don't get carried away, ladies.
He lifted his head from the hood and looked at me. A sly, flirtatious smile crossed his face.
"Yeah, you could say I'm stranded," he said, and closed the hood.
I was shocked by what I saw. A massive log was embedded in the windshield. Actually embedded. The strange thing was, did this man not see that? Did he really think the problem was the engine?
"Wow. Like a giant came along and stuck this tree into your windshield like a giant toothpick." I couldn't hide the surprise on my face.
Suddenly he burst out laughing. "Ah. I think giants went extinct a long time ago." Then his eyes fixed on me with a meaningful look. "This town's past is remembered for its wolves and witches," he murmured.
"Hmm. Thanks for the interesting local history lesson. But I don't think I can find you a witch or a wolf right now." I smiled.
Then I pointed to my car. "But I do have a vehicle. If you want, I can give you a ride into town."
He looked at me with deep dimples appearing as he smiled. Then something strange happened. For a moment, I could have sworn I saw a silver shimmer spinning in his eyes.
"If it's no trouble, I'd be grateful," he said.
I nodded and walked toward the car. At the door I called back, "It's no trouble as long as you don't complain about me listening to Elwes in the car."
With a deep smile, he grabbed his leather jacket from his car and came over. The moment he got in, his expression changed. I think the full blast of the heater hit him like desert heat.
With a knowing look, he said, "I guess you were a little cold."
What was that look? Did this man just judge me? Not everyone has to be as grumpy and cold as you. Some people like warm climates. Whatever.
I couldn't project these thoughts onto a stranger.
"I'm always cold," I said with a smile. And I hit the gas.
From the moment the drive began, his eyes were on me. Under normal circumstances, being watched by a man this handsome might feel flattering. But the people in this town were so strange I wasn't sure it was a good thing.
Finally I said, "Hey, can you cut that out?" Glancing at him briefly before focusing back on the road.
He ran his fingers through his hair and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. You're just so different. I can't take my eyes off you."
"Everyone in this town makes me feel so different. I'm starting to think I have 'I'm a stranger' written on my forehead." I grimaced.
He let out a deep laugh. He seemed to enjoy provoking me.
"Are you always this sarcastic?" he asked, still smiling.
Right then, for no reason, I wanted to be honest with him, and the words just spilled out. "Let's call it my way of camouflaging pain. I lost my grandmother recently." I looked at his face.
Normally when someone tells you that, you offer condolences, and your expression shows surprise. But this man's face showed neither surprise nor anything else. As if he already knew. Yet no one had attended my grandmother's funeral except the gravedigger who buried her. It was deeply unsettling.
A few seconds later, he asked, "I'm sorry. Did you love her very much?"
"Yes. She was my only family. I loved her more than anything." As I thought of my grandmother, I felt anger stirring in my eyes, and I didn't understand why. What was I angry about? That she left me by dying?
"I understand. Then why are you still here?" he asked.
Normally I would have answered all this politely. But I didn't like being interrogated. His question, "Why didn't you leave?" was just as infuriating as the townspeople who didn't want me here.
I turned to him, raised an eyebrow in a mocking expression, and said, "For Christmas. I just came to celebrate Christmas."
He wasn't surprised. On the contrary, he looked as if he understood I was mocking him. Then we didn't speak for the rest of the drive.
Finally we reached the town center. I stopped the car. He got out and came to the window. A warm smile on his face.
"My name's Joe," he said.
I extended my hand. "Eva. Eva Rose."
"Nice to meet you," he said. His expression changed. I could see the sly grin on his face. "Well then, Merry Christmas, Rose girl."
At that, my eyebrows furrowed. The day I came to town to arrange the funeral, everyone had looked at me as if they wanted to kill me, and they'd used that same phrase. What the hell was this "Rose girl" business? Every person I ran into called me Rose's girl with a disgusted look. As if having the surname Rose wasn't just a name to these townsfolk, it was an insult.
Just then, the old man who ran the town market, sitting on a wooden chair on the sidewalk, suddenly came running over, pointed his finger, and shouted, "Don't talk to her, Joe! Have you lost your mind? She brings bad luck!"
Hearing that, I reached the end of the politeness my grandmother had taught me. I stuck my head out the car window and pointed my finger back at him.
"I am not cursed! I'm not carrying a contagious disease. I don't even know you. Stop talking about me, you senile old man!" Then I started the engine.
But my anger wasn't finished. As I drove past him, I added with a mocking smirk, "Well, I talked to you after all. I hope I really do bring you bad luck."
I hit the gas furiously and drove off. In the rearview mirror I could see the man's face bright red with rage. And Joe, doubled over laughing, slapping his knee.
I suppose this stubborn town was about to witness just how stubborn the Rose women could be...
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9.4
I thought the Burch family gave me a loving home when they took me out of the orphanage.
But when the global deep freeze apocalypse hit, my adoptive parents mercilessly kicked me out of the bunker to freeze to death.
As I lay dying in the snow, covered in horrific purple frostbite, my adoptive sister Kendal walked past me in a pristine designer jacket.
Around her neck was my only childhood possession—an antique gold necklace my adoptive mother had ripped off my neck to give to her.
Kendal gloated, bragging that my pendant held a magical space with infinite supplies and fresh food while the rest of the world starved.
I realized I had spent years emptying my life savings to fund their luxury cars and fake medical emergencies.
They had drained my bank accounts, stolen my bloodline's heirloom, and used my magical lifeline to live like royalty while leaving me to die.
I took my last ragged breath in that blinding blizzard, consumed by a toxic hatred.
Why was I so hopelessly weak? Why did I let them take everything from me?
Opening my eyes again, the painful frostbite scars were gone. My skin was warm.
I grabbed my phone. The screen lit up: November 12.
It was exactly three days before the world ended.
When my adoptive mother called, faking a tearful emergency to demand another thirty thousand dollars, I smiled coldly.
"Just tell me where to send the money, Mom."
This time, I'm taking my space back, and I'm going to drain them dry.
7.2
Elara Vex had everything-a flawless ice core, the title of prodigy, and a place at the pinnacle of the High Tower. But in one brutal night, it was all ripped away. Her mentor tore the core from her chest. Her fiancé drove a sword through her back. Her own sister smiled as she bled out on the cold marble floor.
When Elara wakes, she's years in the past, mere hours before her core is scheduled to be stolen. This time, she won't be anyone's sacrificial lamb. She shatters her own core with forbidden blood magic and forges something far more terrifying in its place-a bottomless, ravenous Chaos Core that devours magic itself.
Now, branded a worthless cripple and cast into the deadly Abyss, Elara is pulled from the darkness by the outcasts of Elysium Academy-a school for heretics, psychopaths, and everything the Tower despises. Under the tutelage of a reclusive principal who knew her murdered mother, Elara will master her forbidden power and uncover the Tower's darkest secrets.
When the Five Academies Ranking Tournament arrives, Seraphina Vex stands in the arena, draped in white saintess robes, ready to claim ultimate glory. She doesn't know that a ghost from her past has clawed her way back from hell. She doesn't know that Elara is coming-and this time, the prodigal sister isn't asking for mercy. She's bringing chaos.
8.9
Just hours after I endured a grueling labor to give Kaelen, my fated mate and the Alpha, two beautiful twins, he walked into the infirmary.
Instead of holding our newborns, his Alpha aura pinned me to the bed as he coldly announced, "I reject you as my mate."
He claimed I reeked of another Alpha. His sister Vanessa threw a stack of photos at my face, showing me at a cafe with a broad-shouldered man. Before I could even explain, Kaelen forced a pen into my trembling hand while I was still bleeding, making me sign away my parental rights. His mother then snatched my newborn son Liam from the crib.
"Take the girl and get out of my territory," Kaelen commanded, leaving me in the freezing room with my severed mate-bond and my crying daughter.
I didn't understand how our sacred bond could be shattered by a single fake photo, or how my fated mate could be so blind and ruthless as to rip my baby from my arms.
Five years later, his precious heir is dying, and Kaelen desperately needs an alliance and a bone marrow donor. But when he finally sees me at a high-society gala, he doesn't find a broken, exiled Omega.
He finds me standing beside that very same "lover"—Dominic, the Alpha of the Silverwood Pack, my older brother. And this time, I am the one holding the blade.
9.0
I traded my innocence to my fated mate, the Alpha King, just to get a stalk of Moonlight Grass to save my dying brother.
But after a night of agonizing physical connection, he didn't mark me. Instead, he tossed me a single, useless dried leaf and a credit card, treating our sacred bond like a cheap transaction.
When I refused his insulting offer to be his secret, nameless mistress, he choked me against a wall and banished me from his lands forever. I fled to the human city, only to watch from the shadows a week later as he publicly escorted a pure-blood noble female, preparing to make her his Luna. Meanwhile, I was forced to sell herbs in the lawless black market just to survive, where I was cornered by a gang of violent rogues.
I didn't understand. We were chosen by the Moon Goddess. When our skin touched, the mating sparks nearly blinded us both. Why did he look at me with such cold disgust? Why did he throw me away like trash, only to parade another woman as his queen?
Running for my life from the rogues, I tripped and fell onto the asphalt, right at the feet of a convoy of black SUVs.
The man stepping out was the Alpha King who had sworn to kill me if he ever saw me again.
But as the rogues demanded I be handed over, his eyes darkened with a terrifying, primal fury.
"She's mine."
7.4
The house was a living inferno, the heat devouring the air in my lungs as I clutched my five-year-old daughter to my chest. Emily was dead weight, her skin already cooling even as the room turned into a furnace of orange and black.
Through the stinging smoke, I saw my husband, Kenney, crawling toward the door with a wet handkerchief pressed to his face. He didn't look back at the crib, and he didn't call my name; he was simply leaving us to burn.
I lunged forward and grabbed his ankle, my nightgown catching fire, but he didn't reach down to save me. He recoiled in horror at the sight of my burning hair and our dead child, kicking me back with a panicked shriek.
"Let go!" he shrieked.
I died as a massive, flaming timber snapped from the ceiling and crushed us both into silence. I couldn't believe that the man I loved would leave his family to die just to save his own skin, but the rage I felt was colder than the death that followed.
But then the burning stopped instantly, replaced by a cold so sharp it made my teeth ache. I gasped, jerking upright in my bed to find the velvet duvet cool under my palms and the nursery quiet, with Emily still breathing softly in her crib.
I had returned to the winter morning two years before the fire, the exact day Kenney finalized the deal to sell me to the King for a promotion. As Kenney stepped into the room with a practiced mask of concern, I realized I was no longer the victim of this story.
"A nightmare, my love?" he asked, reaching out to touch my shoulder.
I flinched away, my eyes burning with a hatred he couldn't yet understand. Tonight was the Winter Masquerade, the night he planned to offer me to the King as a prize, but this time, I was going to turn his social ladder into a gallows.
7.4
Bridget, a ruthless twenty-first-century Wall Street analyst, woke up violently coughing up murky lake water in a decaying 1978 slum.
She quickly realized she was trapped in the body of a naive, marginalized teenager who had just committed suicide over a boy's cruel rejection.
The original girl had been mercilessly bullied by a fake rich kid named Kurtis and his cruel followers. They had publicly read her desperate love letters out loud, mocking her as a toad trying to eat swan meat, and simply watched as she threw herself into the freezing water. Now, her impoverished mother was left weeping by the bed, facing catastrophic debt and total social ruin in their small town. Everyone expected the surviving girl to wake up begging and crying for the boy who humiliated her.
Instead, a cold, calculating fury took over Bridget's analytical mind.
"I already died in that lake. That stupid girl is never coming back."
How could anyone throw their life away for a pathetic, vain clown wearing a mass-produced fifty-dollar watch? To Bridget, those uncollected love letters weren't symbols of teenage heartbreak. They were toxic assets. They were reputation landmines left out in the open that threatened her new family's survival.
Locking away the dead girl's weak emotions, Bridget forced her freezing, exhausted body out of the clinic bed. She set a hard three-month deadline to drag this family out of tier-one poverty. But first, she was marching straight to the volunteer camp to liquidate those liabilities and completely destroy the people who drove this body to death.