
My Obsession
Power. Desire. Blood.
Lauretta Owens has everything-money, beauty, and power that makes even Alphas step back. As CEO of LuneArt Studios, she rules her world with poise and precision. But beneath her confidence lies a secret hunger-to have a little baby of her own though she doesn't care about men or relationships.
One wild night in Manhattan changes everything when she meets Savior Hunt-a devastatingly handsome stranger whose aura screams danger and dominance. Neither of them knows that their encounter will awaken an ancient feud buried in blood.
Lauretta is the daughter of a banished wolf family. Savior is the only heir of the pack that destroyed them.
When passion turns to obsession, and obsession turns to destiny, both must face the truth: they were never meant to love each other... yet they can't stay away.
Torn between duty and desire, loyalty and love, they risk everything to be together-even if it means defying the moon itself.
My Obsession is a dark, seductive werewolf romance filled with explosive chemistry, pack politics, and forbidden passion.
Two powerful souls. One cursed bond.
And a love so dangerous, it could start a war.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 1
Manhattan pulsed with life.
Neon lights shimmered on rain-slick streets, and the hum of the city thrummed through the glass walls of The Velvet Fang, one of those rooftop clubs where money and mystery mingled under the scent of whiskey and perfume.
Lauretta Owens sat at the bar like she owned it - calm, commanding, wrapped in a red silk dress that moved like liquid fire. Every detail about her was intentional - the smoky eyes, the gold cuff that glinted when she lifted her glass, the quiet confidence that made people look twice.
She wasn't here for a drink.
She was here with purpose.
She wanted a child.
Not love. Not commitment.
Just a child that would be hers - strong, beautiful, born of power.
And if she was going to do this, she would choose carefully.
The man needed to be more than handsome. He needed to have strength in his blood, the kind that made her wolf stir.
Tonight, her instincts would decide.
She glanced around. Manhattan's elite wolves mingled with unsuspecting humans, laughter spilling over the music. None of them caught her attention - not until the air shifted.
Something alpha stepped into the room.
The sound faded, the crowd parted almost unconsciously, and Lauretta's gaze locked on him.
Tall. Broad shoulders under a perfectly tailored black suit. Dark hair slightly tousled like he'd run a hand through it one too many times. And those eyes - storm-gray, sharp, scanning the crowd until they landed on her.
Their gazes collided.
He didn't look away. Neither did she.
The corner of his mouth curved, dangerous and slow, as he walked toward her - every movement precise, predatory, deliberate.
When he stopped beside her, she could feel the hum of his energy before he even spoke.
"Interesting choice of drink," he said, nodding toward her glass.
Lauretta smirked, swirling the liquid. "It's bourbon. Smooth, strong, a little dangerous. I like it that way."
"I can tell." His voice was low, textured like velvet and smoke. "You look like trouble."
"Only if you ask for it," she replied, meeting his gaze over the rim of her glass.
He chuckled softly. "Then I might be asking for it."
Her lips curved, slow and confident. "Careful what you wish for, stranger."
He leaned an elbow on the bar, turning slightly toward her. "Savior Hunt."
"Is that a warning or an introduction?"
"Both."
She smiled - genuinely this time. "Lauretta Owens."
For a fleeting second, something flickered in his expression - a faint recognition, maybe instinct. But then it was gone.
"Well, Lauretta Owens," he said smoothly, "what brings a woman like you to a place like this?"
She tilted her head, her gaze steady. "You really want to know?"
"Desperately."
She let the silence hang for a beat too long, watching him squirm just slightly under her calm scrutiny. "I'm hunting."
He raised an eyebrow. "Hunting?"
"Something rare." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Something worth keeping."
He smiled, but there was curiosity behind it. "And how will you know when you've found it?"
"I'll feel it."
Their eyes locked again - predator recognizing predator.
The bartender slid fresh drinks their way. Savior lifted his glass. "To feeling it, then."
"To finding it," she corrected, clinking her glass softly against his.
The bass shifted, the music deepened. A slow, haunting rhythm pulsed through the club, wrapping around them like a spell.
Savior extended a hand. "Dance with me."
Lauretta arched a brow. "You assume I dance."
"I assume you lead."
That earned him a quiet laugh. "Smart man."
She took his hand, the contact electric - warmth spreading up her arm, her heartbeat quickening despite herself. He pulled her gently onto the dance floor, and for the first time that night, Lauretta let herself feel.
The crowd faded away. The world narrowed to heat, breath, rhythm.
He moved like he'd been born for it - confident, grounded, every touch deliberate but restrained, testing her reactions.
Lauretta matched him move for move, a silent challenge passing between them with every shift of her hips, every brush of her fingertips across his chest.
"You're dangerous," he murmured against her ear.
"You keep saying that," she replied, her voice a quiet tease. "But you're still here."
"I'm starting to think I like danger."
"Good," she whispered. "Because I don't do safe."
When the song ended, they didn't step apart immediately. His breath was warm against her temple. Her hand lingered on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
Savior finally spoke, voice husky. "You're not like anyone I've met before."
"Get used to disappointment," she said, though her tone softened.
He smiled faintly. "Something tells me I'll see you again."
"You think so?"
"I know so."
"Let me show you something, you will like it "
Lauretta squints her eyes, "I wonder what it is "
Savior holds her hand and leads her to a terrace and shows her a the little shiny stars in the sky.
The shiny night sky reflects on Lauretta's grey eyes.
Savior stares. Intrigued.
"Stared enough?" Lauretta returns her gaze to Savior.
"I might need to do more than staring" he smirks.
"Oh really?"
Savior puts his arm around her waist and draws her closer, their chest hitting each other. Gazes hot.
The silence is loud enough for their hearts to twirl in excitement.
Savior puts his face closer and kisses her.
Soft, gentle at first and later, fast , hungry with a strong desire.
"Mmm" she moans.
"We should take this somewhere nice and quiet right?" Savior said.
"Sure" desire written all over her eyes.
They went back to Savior's hotel room and in no time starts kissing each other hungrily.
Savior stops.
"Don't stop Tiger, show me you're a man"
Savior smirks devilishly, "Hope you won't regret it later "
Before Lauretta could reply, Savior snaps out her dress and starts kissing her neck hungrily like his life is dependent on it.
"Mmmm" she moans.
He stops and moves down to her breast and leaves hot kisses on it.
Lauretta's closes her eyes in pleasure.
Savior stops and removes his shirt, while Lauretta snaps out his trousers.
And the night went on with her loud moans and grunts of Savior's climax.
You may also like

7.3
She was sent to destroy him.
A man feared in the shadows, a mafia lord whose name alone commanded power and blood. Serafina Dunes had one mission: send Rapheal Dekoms to hell.
Murdered by her husband's mistress, Yuanita Serra was ripped from life before her time-only to be reborn as a missionier, and her first task was to kill Rapheal Dekoms. But fate had other plans. What was meant to be a deadly mission became a dangerous game of desire and hate, where every glance and every touch ignited a fire she couldn't control-and threatened to unravel everything he had ever built.

8.6
Found you
8.6
Naomi Nelson thought her life was ordinary.
A quiet high school student trying to survive exams, friendships, and the confusing emotions of teenage love. But everything changes the night she receives a mysterious message attached to a bracelet she doesn't remember owning.
"I found you."
Soon Naomi discovers that the bracelet belonged to her late father-and it holds the key to a powerful company he helped create before his mysterious death.
With the help of Ethan Cole, the intelligent and determined boy who has always stood quietly beside her, Naomi begins uncovering secrets buried deep in her father's past. But the closer they get to the truth, the more dangerous things become.
Strangers begin watching them.
Hidden enemies emerge.
And someone is willing to do anything to claim what Naomi unknowingly inherited.
As trust is tested and feelings grow stronger between Naomi and Ethan, one question begins to haunt her:
Is Ethan protecting her... or hiding something from her?
In a story filled with mystery, betrayal, and love, Naomi must uncover the truth about her father before the past catches up with her.
Because someone out there has been waiting years to find her.
And now...
they finally have.

9.4
My husband, the ruthless Underboss of the Ewing crime family, was terrified of one thing: his dead fiancée’s memory.
Or rather, her living sister, Ivana, who used that memory to turn my life into a living hell.
To "apologize" for humiliating me at a gala, Corbett brought me a peace offering: a green macaron.
"Pistachio," he promised. "Your favorite."
I took one bite, and my throat instantly seized. It felt like barbed wire tightening around my windpipe.
It wasn't pistachio. It was almond paste.
Corbett knew I was deadly allergic. He used to carry my EpiPen on our first dates.
As I collapsed to the floor, wheezing and clawing at my neck, a scream ripped from the guest wing.
"Corbett! Help! They're posting mean comments about me again!"
Ivana.
Corbett looked down at me, his dying wife, and then looked toward the hallway where Ivana was crying over Instagram.
He hesitated for only a second.
Then he pulled his leg away from my grasping hand.
"I'll be right back," he said, turning his back on me. "Just... use your pen."
He ran to comfort a healthy woman while I crawled across the carpet, vision tunneling, forcing the needle into my own thigh to restart my heart.
As I lay there shaking, listening to him soothe her, the last thread of love snapped.
I didn't call an ambulance.
I pulled a burner phone from behind the vanity mirror and texted the one man Corbett feared more than death—his rival, Don Kain Solomon.
"I accept. Get me out."

9.5
Eight days after my c-section, my husband left me and our hungry, premature newborn alone.
He rushed to his manipulative ex-girlfriend, Cassidy, who was faking another one of her "panic attacks," just as he always did.
His obsession with "saving" her had already caused our son's premature birth. This time, it got him killed.
In a jealous rage, Cassidy slammed her car into us, and my baby was gone.
But when I woke up in the hospital, Kevin was protecting her, not me.
He told me it was an accident, that her diagnosed mental illness made her not responsible. He even had our son cremated without my consent, erasing all the evidence.
He begged me to forgive them, to let it all blow over so we could be a family again.
I looked at the man who had destroyed my life and smiled.
"I called the police, Kevin," I said, showing him my phone. "And that medical certificate you're holding? It's a fake."

8.6
Kim had thought she could live without Ari. Without the laughter, the late night talks, the quiet warmth of someone who felt like home. But Ari returned changed, apologetic and impossible to ignore. Loving her once nearly Kim. Loving her again might just heal her. Some loves never really end...they just wait.

7.6
I pulled the perfectly baked Beef Wellington from the oven, its rich scent filling our Manhattan penthouse. For five years, I’d crafted this perfect life, but tonight, I’d discover my entire existence was a cruel, silent lie. The man I loved had built it all on betrayal.
Preparing our anniversary dinner, I reflected on five years of building a flawless home for Blake, a dream I’d never known.
Searching for a pen, I found a hidden compartment in Blake’s desk containing a cheap black USB drive—a significant secret for a man who despised anything less than perfect.
His MacBook unlocked with his birthday, not ours. The USB, after a near-data-wipe, revealed "The Archives": hundreds of photos of Blake with his college girlfriend, Isabelle, passionate love letters, and a wardrobe chosen to mirror hers. My name yielded "0 results found," while millions were wired to Isabelle.
I was a meticulously funded stand-in, a ghost he dressed up to play house. My non-existence in his world and his financial betrayal ignited a cold, burning rage.
Blake returned, dismissive, offering a delayed anniversary gift. I confronted him; he ripped the USB, snapped it, and stated, "Nothing changes, as long as you know your place." My obedience shattered: "I want a divorce," I declared, then destroyed dinner and packed my own bag.