
Once Rejected: A Slave To My Alpha Stepbrothers
I thought running from the mate who used me as a pawn and rejected me would be the end of my cruel fate.
I was wrong.
I ran straight into a pack that didn't just hate me, but also wanted me dead.
My alpha stepbrothers: Quin, Rio, and Hunter.
They're called the Three Devils: dangerous, wild, and untamed.
Quin wants to claim my rut. Rio wants to mark me. And Hunter? He's ready to burn the world just to make me his.
But the Moon Goddess doesn't play fair. Pack laws don't bend...not even for Alphas.
And now we're trapped in a web of fate that will either bind us together or tear us apart completely.
This is a dangerous game, and I dread who the winner will be: the feral alpha, the biker president, or the sex god?
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Chapter 6
Veil.
Tears rush down my face in a frenzy.
There's nothing gentle about the way he's taking me.
His thrusts are deep, brutal. It severs my grip on control, and I'm left a wailing mess.
Quin's beast is lost in the throes of pleasure. It's evident in the powerful slam of his hips on mine, the lengthening of his phallus with each dip he takes in my pussy.
He's stretching me impossibly wide, the slimy saliva dripping from his mouth drops in the point we're connected, making his thrusts easy but painful nonetheless.
I'm ripped off of any thought except what's currently happening to me, I'm having sex with the man I once hated, no, his beast, which hated me just as much.
He's the last man I'd ever willingly be with.
The boy who showed me hell.
The boy who drove me to the edge of insanity.
Every groan that spills from his beast's mouth is a reminder of his taunting words back in high school.
A reminder of his voice that spat nothing but venom at me.
My nails bite hard into the stone floor. I scrape the ground, feeling the pains I'm inflicting on myself, but I don't care. I just want to get away.
I hate him so much.
I want to get out and run as far away from him as possible, to run as far away from this hell as possible.
Hence, I try to scramble away, but he moves every inch with me, lodging himself inside me with a purr.
Like, disconnecting from me will make him drown.
He's holding onto me like I'm his lifeline.
"I hate you! I hate you so much!!" I cry out, forcing my body to move away.
It's so painful.
At this point, I don't know if the pain is coming from his brutal thrusts or from the memories of our past.
All I know is that I can't stand this. I can't stand him.
Another feline purr comes from him. Louder this time, it shakes my core.
The moment he let out that purr, my belly flips.
There's a strange undertone to it, but I can't seem to decipher it, not while my mind is messed up.
Tears blur my vision even as I still attempt to put some distance between us. I've read about people sleeping with their mates in their beast forms, but I never once thought I'd experience it.
Strangely, I'm not doing it with my mate but with my enemy.
Rio sentenced me to the worst death possible.
The pain worsens as he stretches me wider, dominating my walls and leaving me open.
For the past three years, I've not had sex at all. I never imagined the first sex I'd have would be something this savage.
Our kind is not meant to stay that long away from sexual intercourse, especially women. It closes our walls and pleasure glands, which prevents our rut. Our heat.
Pleasure becomes extinct; it'll no longer be felt. Getting wet becomes impossible.
Right now, I'm so dry. My cunt isn't gushing any fluid.
Ryder gave me no choice, and I lived with my fate.
That's why this is nothing but cruelty to me.
My belly burns when I feel him slam into me again and again.
I weep, chanting the goddess's name like a prayer.
Please, somebody, help me.
I move again.
This time, I managed to get away.
I scramble to the wall and curl in on myself, my hair damp and matted to my forehead.
My body is shaking terribly hard as I look into his amber eyes.
He bares his maw, fangs filling my view. He growls both in pain and frustration. His paw-hand swishes through the air, trying to reach out for me.
"No...please..." I wail, shooting out my hands to block the attack.
My heart is drumming insanely fast against my ribcage. This is horror.
"I can't do this. You're my worst enemy. You can't get what you want from me." Jumbled words rush out of my mouth.
He snarls into my face, his face now at my eye level.
I flinch when he lifts his paw-hand to my face.
Oh, seven seas, he wants to crush me now?
The panic sets in, increasing the rate of the terror I feel. The shake of my body.
I brace myself for death, eyes closed.
A minute passes. Two minutes while the song of death is on repeat in my mind, and yet the pain that comes from being crushed doesn't overwhelm me.
What I feel is a feather-light touch on my cheek, wiping the waters away slowly. Gently.
The tempo of my heart increases instead of reducing.
What's this?
Gentleness?
Quin can never be associated with gentleness. Impulsive, yes. Brutal and savage, even, but never this.
I pop my right eye open when his hand falls from my face and meet the emotionless eyes of the feral beast staring into my face.
My lips part, and I exhale through them, watching him.
He purrs in my face, looking at me.
'Why...did you stop?' My mouth moves, but the question doesn't come out. It's stuck in my throat as I hold his stare.
His hand comes up again, to my hair this time. He grabs some strands and flicks his fingers through them as if he's studying them.
Even though he doesn't need to bring it to his nose to perceive my scent, he does it anyway, inhaling my scent. The sound of his intake of breath breaches the silence of the cellar.
Suddenly, he drops my hair. He looks me in my face, fangs bared as if ready to tear into my flesh right away.
He steps backward, eyes still on me.
I'm still shaking. Confusion marring my features.
Did...he recognize me?
Is that...possible?
His loud roar snaps through my brain, interrupting my thought process. My hands cover my ears.
Something is wrong with him, and I don't know what it is.
But if this is what I think it is, if Quin has recognized me, then this will turn worse than it already is. My death won't be quick. It'll be agonizing. The kind that'll haunt me even on the other side.
I prepare for his next action, waiting for him to stop roaring.
When I notice he's stopped, I remove my hands from my ears and look back up at him.
His dick is still hard and red at the tip, beading with his precum.
It bobs as he whirls around to face me, danger glimmering in his eyes. A silent promise of agony.
My throat tightens when he begins to take a step toward me, his tail's poise lethal.
"No...no..." I whimper, shaking my head as he closes the gap between us. Blood rushing through me, cinching my lungs.
Then I feel it.
Two powerful paw-hands haul me up. The breath in my lungs whooshes out in a sharp rush.
I expect him to throw me against the walls. I'm mentally prepared for it, not physically.
But on the contrary, the beast pulls me into his broad chest, closing his powerful arms around my frame.
His feet thump like boulders on the floor as he carries me through the cell into his inner chamber, a small, dim space with an oblong stone stool that can as well serve as a bed.
He lays me on it nicely, the movement a contrast to the roar he'd let out, the hard gaze he gave me, and the way he'd fucked me.
Of course, my heart is still beating hard, adrenaline racing through my blood.
Confusion, that's what I feel.
What is he doing?
Why did he bring me here? To butcher me?
To make a meal out of me?
I watch him pace like a beast protecting his territory, eyes still on me.
What in seven seas is going on here?
There's this struggle between deciphering his actions and closing my eyes to sleep going on inside me.
I choose to stay awake, watch him pace, and unravel his actions and thoughts.
In the first few minutes, it works.
But the ache I feel in my body, the hard throbbing of my cunt from his earlier torture, draws sleep faster to my eyes.
I try to fight it. I do.
Yet nature wins, dragging me under before I know it.
Even though I'm fast asleep, I can feel the beast's eyes on me.
He's watching, pacing, purring all for a reason I don't know yet, but I know I'm not safe.
Not with Quin, not with his beast.
I can never be safe until...
Tbc
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8.7
I make my living binding monsters to their promises. But Silas Malphas is the one monster I never should have touched.
As a Thread-Binder, I can see the glowing, invisible strings of loyalty, debt, and lies connecting everyone in the city's supernatural underworld. It makes me the ultimate contract lawyer-and the perfect infiltrator.
My mission is simple: secure a job in the inner circle of the House of Malphas, the city's most ruthless monster syndicate, and steal the Primal Ledger from their lethal heir.
Silas Malphas commands the shadows themselves. He is arrogant, dominant, and terrifyingly elegant. But the most dangerous thing about him isn't his power-it's that when I look at him, I see *nothing*. He is a void in the magical spectrum. No debts. No loyalties. He is completely unreadable.
I was supposed to betray him. But as I am dragged deeper into his golden cage of high-stakes negotiations and blood-soaked boardroom politics, the lines between my mission and my dark attraction to the Beast begin to blur.
When a rival faction launches a deadly coup and my cover is blown, I am left with a terrifying choice. To survive the night, I must forge a blood-oath contract with the very monster I was sent to destroy.
I'm no longer just his lawyer. I'm bound to the Beast.

7.9
Rose was so naive that she didn't know Jonah, her ex-fiancé, was cheating on her even before her wedding day. On the night before her wedding, she caught him cheating on her with the last person she would ever expect him to be with, Rebecca.
Out of anger and spite, she cursed at them and left, then went and got herself drunk and made out with a mafia don, who, oblivious to her, was her fiancé's stepbrother and his boss.
On the day of the wedding, she stormed in and canceled it, calling Jonah out. After the embarrassment, Jonah vowed to make her life miserable. She tried to get a job, but it was almost impossible because of the influence Jonah had.
So she went to the greatest mafia don that her friend Lucy recommended to her. When she went to ask for his help, the don turned out to be the mysterious man who had been showing interest in her, but she had kept declining. Unbeknownst to her, he was her ex-fiancé's boss and stepbrother.
She asked for his help, and he offered it, of course, but on one condition.that she would be his mistress !.

8.1
One wardrobe malfunction.
Two people who don't belong together.
Three awful "Be my wife."
Everyone else is at this party to marry the host.
I'm only here until I can get a ride home.
When my dress rips in the world's worst-timed wardrobe malfunction,
I go find somewhere quiet to fix it.
So I'm standing there in nothing but my heels when,
As my luck would have it, the door opens...
And the man of the hour walks in.
I wish I could say I played it cool.
But it's been a looong time since anyone has seen me in my birthday suit...
Much less the hottest man I've ever laid eyes on.
All I want to do is fix my dress, click my heels three times, and be back on my couch in fuzzy slippers.
But Ivan has other ideas.
He's decided who he's taking to the altar...
And I don't have a choice but to say "I do."

8.1
Samira James has two weeks left.
Two weeks until she turns eighteen.
Two weeks until everything changes.
And a few months left trapped in high school with the boy she hates most.
Calvin Simms has been her enemy for as long as she can remember. Popular, untouchable, and the living reminder of a childhood misunderstanding neither of them ever corrected. Their interactions are sharp, heated, and carefully controlled.
Until they aren't.
As months pass, tension replaces silence.
Jealousy replaces indifference.
And lines blur where hatred once lived.
With rivals watching, secrets resurfacing, and temptation growing harder to ignore, Samira must decide if sticking to her rules is worth denying what her body and her heart are already choosing.
Because some mistakes feel too good to stop.
And sometimes...
you don't fall for the person you want.
You fall for the one you swore to hate.

8.7
I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella.
Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark.
But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved.
Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies.
When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel.
While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest.
The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella.
He ordered my father to punish me.
I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth.
That night, the love in my heart finally died.
On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape-the only proof that I was Seven.
Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney.
By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return.

8.9
I walked in on my fiancé sleeping with my maid of honor...
On the day of our wedding.
I did what anyone would do:
Threw my ring in his face and found somewhere quiet to cry.
But then something else happened.
Something unexpected.
In that quiet place...
Someone found me.
Anton Stepanov is like something out of a dream.
Scratch that: out of a nightmare.
He's rich as sin, arrogant as heck, and way too handsome for his own good.
He's also way too handsome for mine.
So when he offers me his hand and a way out of the worst day of my life, I do the only thing I can do:
I say yes.
That's how I ended up on his yacht.
That's how I ended up in his bed.
That's how I ended up pregnant with his baby.