
CLAIMED BY MY ENEMY ALPHA
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One night.
One bite.
And Katya never forgot the way Dmitri Volkov made her body burn.
Five years later she hides with their secret twins until the cold, dangerous Alpha finds her.
His eyes promise sin. His voice is a command.
"Mine," he growls, dragging her close.
Katya should run.
But his touch is fire in the frozen Russian night, and the more she fights, the deeper she falls.
He wants her. He wants their children. And this time, he won't let her go.
CLAIMED BY MY ENEMY ALPHA Chapter 1
The ballroom was too bright, too loud to be perfect.
Katya stood at the edge of the crowd, her fingers gripping the silver fabric of her gown. The gown hugged her waist so tight she could barely breathe. She told herself it was the gown. Not the nerves twisting in her stomach like snakes.
Around her, couples spun across the polished floor. Laughter echoed off the high ceilings. Ice sculptures shaped like wolves glittered under the crystal chandeliers, slowly melting in the warmth of too many bodies pressed together. The air smelled like pine branches and expensive wine, mixed with something else, something wild that human guests would never notice.
Hundreds of them, dressed in silk and diamonds, pretending to be civilized.
Katya scanned the crowd again, searching for one face. Aleksei. Her fiance. The man who was supposed to mark her tonight in front of everyone.
But he wasn't here.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. She smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, trying to calm down. The fabric was cold and slippery under her palms. Everything felt wrong. The dress,the room,The way people kept glancing at her and whispering behind their champagne glasses.
She'd been standing here for twenty minutes, alone, while everyone else was dancing and celebrating.
Where was he?
"There you are."
Katya turned. Her younger sister, Svetlana, glided toward her through the crowd. Svetlana looked perfect, as always. Her dark hair was pinned up with diamond clips, and her red dress clung to her curves like it was painted on. She carried two glasses of champagne, bubbles rising in golden streams.
"You look like you're about to pass out," Svetlana said, stopping in front of her. She held out one of the glasses. "Here. Drink this."
Katya shook her head. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're pale as a ghost." Svetlana pushed the glass into her hand. "Liquid courage. You'll need it."
Katya stared down at the champagne. The bubbles popped softly against the rim. "I don't need courage. I just need Aleksei to show up."
"He'll show up." Svetlana's voice was sharp. "He always does, doesn't he? You've had him wrapped around your finger since we were kids."
Katya looked up, surprised by the bitterness in her sister's tone. "Lana-"
"Must be nice," Svetlana continued, her smile not reaching her eyes. "Having everything handed to you. The perfect match. The perfect life. Meanwhile, the rest of us just get to watch."
Katya's throat tightened. "I didn't ask for this. You know that."
"Doesn't matter, does it?" Svetlana lifted her own glass in a mock toast. "Tonight is your big night. The whole pack's watching. Don't mess it up."
Before Katya could respond, Svetlana turned and disappeared back into the crowd, her red dress flashing like blood between the dancers.
Katya stood there, holding the champagne, feeling more alone than ever.
She lifted the glass to her lips and drank.
The champagne was cold and sweet, with a bitter aftertaste she didn't recognize. She drank half of it in one long swallow, hoping it would settle her nerves. The alcohol burned going down, spreading warmth through her chest.
Maybe Svetlana was right. Maybe she did need courage.
The music plays Couples moving together like they were one person, perfectly in sync. Katya watched them and wondered what it would feel like to dance with Aleksei like that. To have him look at her the way some of these wolves looked at their mates like they were the only person in the world.
But Aleksei had never looked at her that way.
Their parents had arranged this match when they were children. It was about political marriage, about uniting the Morozova and Baranov packs. It was never about love.
Katya finished the champagne and set the empty glass on a passing waiter's tray. Her head felt lighter already. Good. She needed to stop thinking so much.
"Katerina."
The sound of her full name made her spine straighten. She turned, and there he was.
Aleksei Baranov.
He stood a few feet away, tall and broad-shouldered in a black suit that made his sea-blue eyes look even colder. His dark hair was swept back from his face, and his jaw was tight, like he was grinding his teeth.
He didn't smile.
"Aleksei." Katya's voice came out steadier than she felt. "I was looking for you."
"I'm here now." He didn't move closer. Didn't reach for her hand the way a fiance should hold . "We need to talk."
Her stomach dropped. "About what?"
"Not here." His eyes flicked to the crowd around them, then back to her face. "Later."
"But-"
"Later, Katerina."
The way he said her name felt like a door slamming shut.
Katya swallowed hard. "Everyone's waiting. Your father,My parents. They're expecting-"
"I know what they're expecting." Aleksei's voice was low, tight with something she couldn't name. Anger? Fear? "Just... give me an hour. Can you do that?"
She wanted to ask why. I wanted to demand answers. But the look in his eyes stopped her. He seemed almost... desperate.
"Okay," she whispered. "An hour."
Aleksei nodded once, then turned to walk away.
But before he took two steps, his gaze caught on something across the room. Katya followed his line of sight and saw Svetlana standing near the windows, watching them. The moment Aleksei's eyes landed on her sister, something in his expression softened.
Katya's breath caught.
No.
She must have imagined it. The champagne was making her see things that weren't there.
Aleksei disappeared into the crowd without another word, leaving Katya standing alone again.
Her head was starting to feel strange. Fuzzy. The lights seemed brighter than before, the music louder. She blinked hard, trying to clear her vision, but the room tilted slightly to the left.
That's when she saw him.
A man standing on the opposite side of the ballroom, near the entrance. Tall. Broad. Dark hair. He wasn't dancing or talking to anyone. He was just... watching.
And he was looking right at her.
Even from across the room, she could see his eyes. Amber eyes are sharp and intense.
Something jolted through Katya's chest. Recognition, maybe or Something she couldn't explain.
The man's gaze held on to her for a long moment. The noise of the gala faded. The people around her blurred. There was only him and those burning amber eyes.
Then someone stepped between them, blocking her view. When the person moved, the man was gone.
Katya shook her head. The champagne. It had to be the champagne.
But the fuzzy feeling in her head was getting worse. Her skin felt too hot, like she was standing too close to a fire. The room spun slowly, a lazy rotation that made her stomach lurch.
She pressed a hand to her forehead. Sweat dampened her palm.
Something was wrong.
Katya turned and pushed through the crowd, aiming for the doors. She needed air. I needed space. I needed to get away from all these people and their staring eyes.
A few wolves glanced at her as she stumbled past. She heard whispers.
"Is she drunk?"
"Poor thing. Probably nervous."
"Where's Baranov? Shouldn't he be with her?"
Katya ignored them. She focused on putting one foot in front of the other, on not falling in these ridiculous heels.
The doors seemed a mile away.
Finally, she burst through them into the cold night air. Snow was falling in thick, soft flakes. It landed on her bare shoulders and melted instantly, leaving cold trails down her skin.
Katya gasped, sucking in freezing air. It helped a little. The spinning slowed.
But the heat inside her didn't fade. If anything, it got worse. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Her hands trembled.
What was happening to her?
She stumbled forward, away from the doors, away from the light and music. Her heels sank into the snow with each step. The monastery grounds stretched out around her old stone buildings, frozen gardens, paths lit by flickering lanterns.
In the distance, she saw the bell tower. Old and Abandoned fully Dark.
Safe.
Katya didn't know why that word came to her, but it did. The tower felt like shelter.
She forced her legs to move, one step, then another. The snow soaked through her dress. Her teeth chattered. But she couldn't stop.
Behind her, she heard voices. Male voices. Laughing.
"Hey. Where are you going, sweetheart?"
"She's alone. No escort."
"Must be looking for company."
Footsteps crunched in the snow, Getting closer.
Katya's heart lurched. She tried to move faster, but her legs wouldn't cooperate. Everything felt heavy Slow.
The voices were right behind her now.
"Don't run, beautiful. We just want to talk."
A hand grabbed her arm.
Katya tried to scream, but no sound came out. She yanked free and stumbled forward, falling to her knees in the snow.
The bell tower was right there. So close.
She crawled forward, her hands numb, her vision blurring.
The footsteps stopped.
A low, deep growl cut through the night. Not playful, it's a roar ,growl of authority.
Pure Alpha.
The drunk wolves scattered, cursing, crashing through the snow in their hurry to get away.
Katya collapsed against a stone pillar at the base of the tower. Through the haze in her vision, she saw a figure approaching. Tall and Dark but Familiar with those Amber eyes.
"You," she whispered.
Then everything went black.
Continue Reading
CLAIMED BY MY ENEMY ALPHA of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels

8.0
When gifted cellist Vivienne Aurel inherits her late father's catastrophic $4.2 million debt, she expects to lose everything. She doesn't expect the debt to be bought by Caspian Vane, the most feared private equity magnate in New York. Caspian doesn't want to ruin her; he wants her to work exclusively for him as the artistic director of his new cultural foundation for eighteen months. Forced into his world under a binding agreement, Vivienne prepares to fight against a cold, transactional cage. But as the intense, quiet proximity between them begins to blur the lines of their contract, she discovers a terrifying truth: the man who now owns her future has been watching her from the shadows long before she ever knew his name.

9.1
Julian Laurent was known as the most notorious playboy in Rivermont, changing girlfriends as often as he changed his clothes and treating marriage like a joke.
Clara Sterling, on the other hand, had always been the most quiet and obedient daughter of the Sterling family. Raised as the heir since childhood, she had been flawless in every word and every gesture.
A family-arranged marriage forced these two complete opposites into the same life.
On their wedding night, Julian openly made out with a young model at a nightclub.
For the first time, Clara cast aside her propriety, slapping him and demanding a divorce on the spot.
But before the next day was over, their families had forced them to remarry.
This time, Julian managed to stay faithful for a month before he cheated again.
Clara filed for divorce once more, cutting ties with him completely.
However, that very same day, it was revealed that Clara was not the real daughter of the Sterling family, and she was thrown out.
At her lowest point, Julian found her and solemnly promised to protect her from then on.
They remarried again, and from that day forward, the scandals surrounding Julian ceased.
Everyone said Clara was lucky. Even her best friend insisted that Julian had truly settled down, and Clara believed it.
Until she saw him in a hospital corridor, holding her best friend's hand, his voice strained with deep emotion, "I never liked her. You're the one I've always loved!"
It turned out all of his tenderness had been a lie.
This time, she walked away and never looked back.
And the man who had once treated her as disposable only realized after she was gone that he had long since drowned in her quiet love, unable to escape.

7.3
I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder.
It was Clayton.
The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party.
"Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up.
Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock.
"Ivy? You're... we buried you."
They hadn't buried me.
They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability.
Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger.
He accused me of faking my death for attention.
He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain.
He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize.
"You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation."
But he made a fatal mistake.
He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees.
He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it.
Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist.
Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us.
"Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand."
I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face.
I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself.
I came back to bury them.

9.1
Waking up with a cold, scaly hand wrapped around my throat wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was realizing I'd transmigrated into the body of Terra Mason—the most despised woman in the entire Enclave. She drugged high-level beast-men and forced them into life-binding bio-contracts. She locked an aquatic warrior in a dry basement until his organs failed. She treated the most lethal males in the city like broken toys.
Zev, the Level 6 serpent who's currently choking me, would rather blow up his own heart than spend another day as my slave. His affection metric? Negative ninety. His trust? Zero.
Then my system activates: the Kore AI. It gives me exactly 500 credits, a medical nano-gel, and a recipe for neutralizing the radioactive poison in mutant meat. Real food. In this world, that's worth more than gold.
I save Rhys, the dying aquatic male everyone left for dead. I season a slab of purple mutant steak until Sam, a battle-scarred grizzly shifter, groans at the taste—and his trust points finally tick above zero. When my backstabbing ex-best friend tries to steal my males and destroy me, I don't scream or throw a tantrum like the old Terra. I dismantle her with the truth.
But earning their trust means more than grilling meat. A scorpion swarm ambushes us at midnight. Sam throws himself between me and a stinger the size of my arm. As he stands over the corpse, fur receding from his claws, he stares at me and whispers, "You were testing me."
Yes. I was. Because in this world, the weak don't survive. And I refuse to be weak again.
Four beast-men. Four contracts. One system. And a whole lot of steak. Let this dystopian wasteland know—I'm not the monster they remember. I'm worse. I'm the one who's going to feed them until they'd kill for me.

8.3
Ayleen Ramirez sat in the sterile Hope Hill Fertility Clinic, her heart shattering as Dr. Finch delivered the crushing news: her third IVF cycle had failed.
Eavesdropping outside a supply closet, she overheard her husband Don on the phone, laughing cruelly. "She's a defective incubator," he sneered to his mistress Alessandra. "I never used my sperm—just cheap bank donation. No trailer trash carries a Bradley heir."
Betrayed, Ayleen confronted him, but her adoptive family ambushed her at home. Her parents and brother sided with Alessandra, now pregnant by Don, demanding Ayleen sign divorce papers to secure family investments. "You're an embarrassment," her mother snapped, threatening to cut her trust fund. Ayleen tossed back their heirloom necklace and walked out.
She stormed the Bradley mansion, slapped divorce papers on Don, packed her bags amid his aunt's insults, and fled into the night.
Drunk in a trendy bar, she stumbled into a powerful stranger—Burdette Guerrero—spilling whiskey on his crotch, then accidentally grabbed a napkin to his trousers. He shoved her away in rage.
Worse, she mistook his penthouse suite for her hotel room, bursting in on his shower, smashing a mirror in panic. He pinned her to the wall, snarling accusations.
How did this arrogant man know her name? Why demand she sign a mysterious contract at 9 a.m.? Devastated and clueless she's actually pregnant—with his stolen heir—Ayleen sobbed alone, the world crumbling.
The next morning, she straightened her spine in the Grand Guerrero lobby, ready to face him and demand answers—no matter the cost.

8.9
I sold myself into a loveless marriage for $500,000 just to afford my little niece's life-saving surgery.
But my new husband, Kash, despised me, completely convinced I was a shameless gold-digger after his assets.
At 2:00 AM, he called to demand I fulfill my end of our twisted bargain: giving him an heir.
He forced me to sign a supplementary agreement surrendering all custody rights before I was even pregnant, treating me like a rented womb he bought at auction.
When my niece's condition suddenly worsened and I desperately begged him for a $50,000 advance, he hurled a black credit card directly at my face, leaving a stinging red welt.
"Take the money and get out," he sneered, his eyes filled with absolute disgust.
He immediately set up real-time transaction alerts to track my every purchase, waiting to catch me on a selfish shopping spree.
He thought I was a parasite, completely unaware that every single penny went straight to the pediatric intensive care unit.
Even my abusive former guardians cornered me at the fertility clinic, loudly mocking me for selling my body while my niece was dying.
I endured the degrading contracts, the cold IVF appointments, and Kash's relentless contempt, suffocating under the weight of his cruel assumptions.
Why did he have to strip away my dignity when he already owned my life on paper?
But as I clutched the hospital receipt that finally secured my niece's surgery, the fear inside me died.
With a new career starting tomorrow and a high-powered lawyer suddenly stepping in to audit my stolen inheritance, I was done playing the helpless victim.
I was going to show my arrogant husband exactly what happens when you push a desperate woman too far.











