MARKED BY HIS WOLF
Asha finds herself in the middle of the mating grounds where the mating night is supposed to take place. Confused, and trying to escape a crime she thinks she committed, she runs away from silver Crest pack.
Fate then leads her to a dying stranger at a river bank. Healing him of his wounds, a glitch occurs and now his wolf lives in her.
...
He is the Lycan Lord. But what is a Lycan without his wolf?
Auren is saved by a strange girl who in the process 'steals' his wolf. Because of this, a forced proximity arises between them.
He wants nothing but to get his wolf back.
She wants nothing but to be free, and finally experience what love feels like.
Maybe they could grant each other wishes, maybe.. maybe not.
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Chapter 3
Asha
New lands.
I don't know where I am or where I'm going, but I do know I've gotten away from that place called a pack. Away from a dead beta, and a cursed people.
I carry on through the twigs, the rustling leaves, some underground bushes. It's all chaos, but it's not the end of the world.
I sigh heavily when I get to an open space. The moon is now hiding behind clouds, casting just a faint glow on the lake ahead.
"Water," I mumble, taking some slow steps towards it.
"Oh my gosh," I fall to my butt, and place my legs in it.
The cold, sweet sensation sends a chill into my bones, making me shudder sweetly.
I'm finally enjoying some peace and quiet when something... or someone groans heavily.
I jerk my legs away from the water, my eyes darting around to see who it is.
"What the hell? Did someone follow me here?" I place my hands over my mouth.
I hold on for a few seconds, and the groans sound off again, this time heavier than the last time.
I stay still for a little while longer, trying to pay attention to whatever is moving that way.
The groans don't exactly sound like the object is in some sort of struggle, but it doesn't sound so threatening either.
It seems it's calling for help indirectly.
I slowly get to my feet to see who it might be, but something makes me pause.
Is it a trap?
Is someone out to get me and sell me as a slave?
But what if someone's actually in trouble?
I take in a deep breath, then move forward, in the direction of where I hear the groans coming from.
I walk steadily along the lake, until I get to some rock, where the groans have become even louder.
I heave heavily, then peek my head out to see what it is.
It's a person.
A person who-
I finally walk to the other side of the rock to see what's happening with him.
Ah yes. A person who is struggling to get a big-ass silver sword from his chest.
"Wow, I'm so sorry. How did this happen?" I blurt out, standing there in awe of his injury instead of helping.
Did I ever mention what a weird ass I was?
The man slightly tilts his head in my direction and says something I don't quite grasp.
I just stand there like a moron, still staring right at the sword that has been driven deep into his chest.
It's so... huge.
The man groans again, and my eyes snap to his. He weakly points to the sword, and that's when my head finally snaps.
"Oh right," I laugh nervously, and grab the butt of the sword.
"This will hurt, hold on a little," I say softly, and with all my might, I pull out the damned sword from his chest.
Whew, two years of hard labour paying off.
I throw the sword in another direction and look back at him.
He still looks all weak, worse, I think he might be dying.
I kneel at his side, and place my hands on his chest, "Hold on a little, I'll heal you."
The healing gift, which I think I got from my father, was awakened in me when I turned eighteen. Apart from my mother, no one else knew I had this gift.
It is unlikely wolves have powers like this. If ever in rare cases they do, someone exploits the hell out of it, or they're sold to the Alpha.
Mother was scared this would be my fate, hence she made sure I never told anyone.
I place my hands on his injured chest, feeling the faint thrum of his heartbeat. As my hands make contact with his wounds, a faint glowing light emits from my hands into his wounds.
Then boom, it hits me like lightning. A prickly feeling at first that graduates into an electric sensation. I feel a heavy weight tearing into my skin and forcing itself into my skin.
Suddenly, my pulse duplicates, I can hear a literal growl in my head. My body shifts, and my vision blurs for a fraction of a second before it temporarily goes black.
After what seems like eternity, my eyes go back to normal. I look down at the man who's now staring at me puzzled, his eyes widening with what I believe to be terror.
'What is she? A witch?'
I retract my hands from his chest and look around, wondering who said that.
'I'm having a weird feeling about her. I don't know why, but I know something left me the minute she touched me.'
The voice comes again, louder.
Excuse me? Who is saying all that?
The voice seems to be talking in my head. A shrill voice. Too shrill to be considered that of the moon goddess.
'But my wounds are healed. Is she a good or bad sign?'
Wounds... healed-hold the fuck on!
I whip my head towards the man now sitting in front of me, his right eye twitching.
I can... I can hear his thoughts! No, wait, I mean I can actually hear what he's saying inside loud and clear, like he's having a conversation in my head!
Is that something to be worried about?
'Wait... my wolf... I can't feel my wolf!'
I gasp, placing my hands over my mouth, my eyes wide with confusion.
What's happening? Why's his voice inside my head?
"Who are you? What the hell did you do to me?" He asks in a deep, silky voice, which is surprisingly different from the shrill voice I hear his thoughts in.
I blink back at him, still registering the fact that I can hear his thoughts.
'Is she some sort of moron? Why isn't she saying anything?'
I grimace at his thoughts and cross my hands over my chest, "I saved your life, the least you could do is at least appreciate me. Hmph," I raise my nose in the air.
He feels his chest-which has been healed, of course. He looks back at me again, his pupils now dilating with each passing second.
"You stole my wolf?"
I pull my head backward, "No I didn't. Why would I do that?"
He points a finger at me, "I can't feel my wolf!" He snaps angrily at me.
I snort, "Then feel him? What has that got to do with me?"
He holds his head, his veins popping up all over his neck.
'Now she's pretending to be innocent? What exactly is this creature before me?'
"I'm Asha, thank you very much. I didn't steal your wolf, but I did save your life–"
A different voice, different from Serena's, calmly replies in my head.
Mine.
I shake my head and hurriedly get to my feet, my heart pounding in my chest.
The voice comes again, louder.
Mine.
This doesn't sound like the man in front of me, but it sure is masculine-
The realization hits me like a bullet.
I look back at a fuming man who looks like he'd explode any minute.
"I- I don't know how this happened!" I shake my head waving my hands frantically, "I'm not a witch, I promise you," I wave my hands trying to prove a point.
Mr. fuming face forces himself to stand up, and oh boy, that's a really tall creature.
'What is a Lycan supposed to do without his wolf?! I'm a nothing if I don't have Lucien inside of me.'
Lycan? Did he just call himself the Lycan king?
I'm about to say something when an arrow sticks itself in the ground, right in the middle of us.
My jaw drops. "An arrow?"
We both exchange puzzled glances for a fraction of a second.
Before I know what's happening, he sweeps me off my feet and dashes in the opposite direction.
"What's happening?"
More arrows rain in our direction. Most of them are sticking to the ground before they even get to us, but the attackers are relentless, and they keep the arrows coming.
One of the arrows whistles past, grazing my cheek.
I can't breathe.
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7.2
Title- A Name Without A Past
Author- Abraham Tejiri Onojighofia
Genre: Psychological Suspense Romance / Crime Thriller
Tagline: Memory lies. Danger doesn't..
Larry awakens in an abandoned hospital with no name, no past, and no memories-except one. A woman's face. Her voice. Her presence. The single image floating in the hollow wreckage of his mind is so sharp, so undeniable, that he knows she matters. He doesn't know who he is, but he knows he must find her.
Moments after he escapes the hospital, someone tries to kill him.
Driven by instinct and the one memory he trusts, Larry follows the fragment of recognition until it leads him to Ella Morgan, a composed and fiercely intelligent homicide detective. But instead of relief, he's met with confusion. Ella has never seen him before. According to her, he is a stranger.
But danger arrives before either of them can walk away.
A sudden attack convinces Ella that Larry is not lying-someone wants him dead. And the attempt on his life mirrors the recent string of unsolved murders she is investigating. Against policy and against her better judgment, Ella takes him under temporary protection. Immediately, unsettling cracks begin to appear in her certainty.
Larry recognizes places connected to the case.
He reacts to threats with a trained instinct he can't explain.
And his fragmented flashbacks seem tied to secrets Ella wasn't supposed to uncover.
As they race to piece together his missing identity, a darker truth begins to emerge. Larry's amnesia is no accident. Evidence points to a covert operation, a covered-up crime, and powerful enemies determined to bury the truth permanently. His erased memory may hold the key to a conspiracy that reaches into the police force, the city's elite-and Ella's own past.
With each step closer to the truth, the connection between them deepens. Larry feels drawn to her with an unshakable certainty that defies logic, while Ella fights the pull of a man who may be the missing link to her most dangerous case yet.
But as Larry's memories begin to return, so does a chilling realization:
Ella wasn't just a face in his mind. She was the last person he tried to protect before everything went dark.
Now, the enemies hunting Larry have turned their sights on her.
In a deadly race against a faceless adversary, Larry and Ella must unravel the past he's forgotten before it destroys them both. Because the silence Larry woke up with isn't empty-it's hiding a witness, a secret, and a truth someone is willing to kill to keep buried.
And the closer the truth gets, the more dangerous remembering becomes.
7.8
Detective's Dripping Domination is a darkly sensual erotic thriller set in the fog-choked shadows of Victorian London, where Detective Liora Kane, a 28-year-old vixen with raven hair, storm-gray eyes, and a body that craves forbidden pleasure, hunts a thief stealing lust-inducing artifacts. Her own secret stash of vibrating phalluses and aphrodisiac oils used to finger herself to shuddering org**ms becomes the target of a crimson-sealed summons, scented with musk and laced with her pubic hair, luring her to Blackthorn Manor. There, masked rogue Thorne Blackwood, a chiseled predator with a throbbing, veined cock, ambushes her with brutal domination: pinning her to ravage her dripping pussy, throat-fucking her until drool coats her heaving breasts, and pounding her a*s to squirting climaxes. As clues unravel her husband's death tied to voyeuristic betrayal and a s*x cult's plot to enslave London with cursed relics Liora's investigation becomes a descent into wet, submissive ecstasy. Betrayed by allies, edged by vibrating toys, and reamed in every hole, she faces an impossible choice: expose the conspiracy or surrender to Thorne's relentless shaft, joining his illicit empire. Packed with raw, cum-soaked encounters and suspenseful twists, this tale leaves readers throbbing and drenched, craving more of Liora's gushing surrender.
9.7
Sienna woke up in a hospital room, her body screaming from a severe car accident. Through the glass, a man paced with violent rage, a dark shadow she felt absolutely nothing for.
Her friend Julia burst in, eyes bloodshot, dropping a bomb: "He didn't even try to help you." Dante, Sienna's fiancé, had protected another woman, Valeria, in the crash, leaving Sienna to burn alive.
Her past life unspooled – seven years sacrificed, an architecture degree abandoned, all to serve Dante. Her phone was a shrine to him: his photos, his "taboos," and even "Valeria's preferences," with no trace of Sienna herself.
But amnesia brought no heartbreak, only a cold, calculating fury. She felt disgust for the "idiot" she'd been, stripped of dignity. The memory loss was a release, a blank slate.
With chilling resolve, Sienna deleted every trace of Dante. Ripping out her IV, she declared, "The wedding proceeds." Not for love, but as a weapon: "I need to take back everything that belongs to me before I disappear."
7.3
On our third anniversary, I found out I was pregnant with Alpha Graves's heir, a miracle for my wolfless body.
But when I went to the Grand Hall to share the news, I found him tenderly holding his "dead" first love, Davina. He declared I was just a useless placeholder to appease his grandmother and prepared to sever our mate bond.
He immediately moved Davina into our estate and ordered our marriage portrait torn down. He treated me with absolute cruelty, forcing a toxic herbal brew down my throat that could kill my unborn pup, and even watched coldly as a rival Alpha physically harassed me at a dinner. The entire Pack mocked me as a soon-to-be Rogue, while Graves used his Alpha Command to trap me.
"If you dare leave before I officially complete the Rejection, I will make your home Pack pay."
I gave up my entire life and my design empire to be his devoted wife, only to be thrown out like garbage the moment his true love returned. If he ever found out about the Lycan heir growing inside me, he would surely lock me away and tear my child from my arms.
I won't let him destroy us. I secretly destroyed the pregnancy report and called my best friend. I am accepting his Rejection, taking my baby, and returning to the top of the fashion world as Sloane Todd.
9.8
I traced the floral patterns on the silver candlestick, my fingertips numb from the cold of the penthouse. It was our fifth anniversary, and the Wellington steak I’d spent four hours preparing sat soggy and defeated under the dim chandelier.
Fielding finally walked in at 1:00 AM, smelling of scotch and tuberose—a scent I didn't own. When I tried to touch him, he recoiled as if my fingers were acid, then disappeared into the bathroom where I heard him moan his ex-girlfriend's name with a desperate, guttural longing.
The betrayal didn't end there. The next day, I found him at a luxury restaurant, watching him slide a massive pink diamond onto Corinna’s finger—the same ring he’d told me was a "business investment."
I stood hidden behind a frosted glass partition as his friends laughed, calling me a "lame duck" and a "depressed millstone" around his neck. Fielding didn't defend me; he calmly told them our marriage was just a "debt" he had to pay because I’d saved his life in the crash that ended my ballet career.
"She's a millstone, Fielding. How long are you going to play nursemaid?"
"I owe her. It's a debt. I pay my debts."
When I finally confronted him, he didn't show remorse. Instead, he threatened to use his power to declare me mentally unstable and freeze my grandmother’s trust fund so I’d be left "crippled and penniless" on the street.
I realized then that Fielding didn't want a wife; he wanted a martyr to ease his survivor's guilt, as long as I stayed broken and dependent. He thought he’d clipped my wings for good, but he didn't know I’d been secretly studying for the Sorbonne while he was out with his mistress.
As I put on my designer gown for the charity gala, I wasn't preparing for a party. I was liquidating my jewelry for untraceable cash and planning the ultimate exit.
He thinks I’m his prisoner, but the countdown to my final act has already begun.
8.2
I returned to the city for the only person who ever truly loved me-my dying grandfather. As the "forgettable" daughter of the wealthy Clemons family, I had spent years hiding my true identity as a world-class elite behind oversized hoodies and a silent, exhausted demeanor.
But the welcome home was a nightmare. My family made it clear I was nothing more than a parasite, unaware that I had just saved a powerful stranger's life on the train or that I was the silent partner of the very club they were visiting.
While they sipped champagne in a VIP penthouse I had secretly upgraded for them, they left me standing outside in a freezing downpour for hours. My cousin Belle recorded me, laughing as she called me a "drowned rat" for her social media followers. My father, Glyn, even sent me a formal notice revoking my access to the family trust, thinking he was cutting off my only means of survival. He had no idea my private bank account held eighty-five million dollars. The betrayal cut even deeper when I discovered the darkest truth: they were swapping my grandfather's life-saving medication for cheap generics just to pocket the extra cash.
I stood in the mud, watching the people who shared my DNA celebrate their greed while they slowly killed the man who raised me. How could they be so blind? How could they treat me like trash while they lived off the crumbs of my secret success?
"Enjoy it while it lasts," I whispered against the cold glass. I was done playing the victim and done hiding in the shadows to protect their fragile egos.
I pulled out my encrypted phone and dialed my head of security. As an armored Range Rover pulled up to the curb and the city's most dangerous man watched me from the shadows, I realized I was done being the "charity case." It was time to show the Clemons family who really owned this city.