Rewired Soul, Broken Alpha Heart
After months of tearing the continent apart, I finally found her. Covered in mud and blood, raw from the river, I was a monster, a ghost. Across the street, June looked peaceful, utterly unaware.
Then, a man stepped out, shielding her with an umbrella, his arm a casual, possessive claim. My heart stopped.
I unleashed my Alpha aura; June shivered, thinking it a cold snap. Frankie turned, a mocking smile in his eyes. He knew.
Marcus broke ribs restraining my rage as June and Frankie drove away, taking the only light in my miserable world.
The 'Tabula Rasa' spell hadn't just erased her memory; it rewired her soul, making her immune to our mate bond. She saw an ordinary stranger. Her scent gone, preferences changed. Agony shredded my mind; my power useless.
My magic failed, but I had other weapons. "Buy the street. Buy the shop. Buy every property within five miles. Suffocate them with cash," I commanded. Tomorrow, I'd be Bren, a bankrupt man seeking solace, ready to reclaim what was mine.
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Chapter 3
Brendan POV:
The next morning, I stood outside the heavy oak door of the antique shop. I wore the cheap, faded jacket. I had purposely messed up my hair, trying to scrub away any trace of the ruthless predator I used to be.
I stood there for ten full minutes. I just stared through the glass window, my eyes greedily drinking in the sight of June. She was standing behind the counter, carefully dusting a porcelain vase. She looked healthy. She looked calm. She looked perfectly fine without me.
I took a deep breath that rattled in my chest and pushed the door open.
The brass bell above the door chimed. To me, it sounded like an executioner’s bell.
June stopped wiping the vase. She turned around. The morning sunlight hit the side of her face, highlighting her smooth skin. There were no scars on her face.
My lungs stopped working. I shoved my hands deep into my jacket pockets, balling them into tight fists to stop myself from sprinting across the room and pulling her into my arms.
June looked at me. Her lips curved into a flawless, polite, and completely empty professional smile. It was the exact same fake smile she used to give the corrupt politicians she despised.
"Welcome, sir. Feel free to look around. Let me know if you need anything." Her voice was clear, melodic, and completely devoid of any recognition.
My heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice. I forced a bitter, pathetic smile onto my face. I wanted her to show fear. I wanted her to show disgust. Anything was better than this blank politeness.
I cleared my throat. My voice came out raspy. "Hi. My name is Bren. I just moved to town."
June nodded slightly and went back to dusting the vase. "It's a quiet town. Good for fresh starts. Are you interested in any particular era?" She didn't care who I was.
I looked around the shop. It was filled with Victorian silverware and old pocket watches. Her taste hadn't changed at all.
I walked up to the counter, locking my eyes onto hers. "I... I went through some terrible things. I went bankrupt. I just need something to distract myself." I fed her the lie, shamelessly using pity to force my way in.
June stopped dusting. A flicker of genuine human sympathy crossed her eyes. The spell hadn't erased her kind heart.
I caught that look, and a twisted, sick sense of joy bloomed in my chest. If playing the victim got her attention, I would gladly crawl on the floor.
"The wind is harsh today. If you don't mind, have a cup of hot tea to warm up, Mr. Bren," June said, pointing to the steaming teapot behind the counter.
My eyes lit up like a starving dog being offered a bone. I nodded eagerly. "Thank you. Thank you so much."
June turned her back to pour the tea. My eyes traced the line of her spine, my wolf locking onto his mate.
I inhaled deeply, waiting for the familiar, crisp scent of cedarwood tea. It was the only tea I used to drink. She used to brew it for me every single day to cure my stress headaches. I was so sure she would keep that habit.
June turned back around and handed me a plain white ceramic cup.
I reached for it instantly. I intentionally let my fingertips brush against her fingernails as I took the cup.
Nothing. No spark. No static shock of the mate bond. June pulled her hand back naturally, completely unaffected.
I swallowed the massive lump of disappointment in my throat and looked down at the cup. I took a large gulp, desperate to find comfort in the taste.
The scalding liquid burned its way down my throat. It wasn't the clean, sharp taste of cedarwood. It was cheap, bitter, generic black tea.
I froze. I stared blankly at the dark red liquid in the cup. My existence had been completely scrubbed from her life. Not even my tea remained.
"Is something wrong? Not to your taste?" June tilted her head, asking out of basic courtesy.
My eyes burned. I gripped the cup tightly. "No... it's just, I thought it would be cedarwood flavored." I couldn't stop myself from testing the waters.
June let out a light laugh and shook her head. "I hate cedarwood. It's too pungent. I only ever drink this plain black tea."
Her words were a physical blade stabbing straight into my chest. My hand began to shake violently. She didn't just forget. The spell had rewired her to actively reject everything associated with me.
The hot tea almost spilled over the rim. I jerked my head back and downed the rest of the scalding liquid in one brutal swallow, letting the physical burn distract me from the tearing in my soul.
I slammed the empty cup down. My voice was a hoarse whisper.
"It doesn't matter. The tea is good. As long as it's from you, I'll drink it."
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8.5
Everyone knew Caroline loved Jacob, the frail man in a wheelchair, even giving up her chance at marrying into wealth for him.
She devoted everything to his recovery, enduring hardship and humiliation to help him stand again.
When he finally recovered, they were praised as perfect together-until danger came.
Faced with saving her or her sister, Jacob chose the latter without hesitation. Only in her final moments did Caroline realize his heart was never hers.
Reborn, she made a different choice, choosing power over love.
When Jacob later begged, she looked down coldly. "I have no interest in men who can't stand on their own."
7.5
For five years, I was locked away in the freezing royal dungeon, starved and used as a bloody plaything by the kingdom's sadistic Cabinet Minister, Brandt Fischer.
He tortured me daily for one twisted reason: I simply looked like someone else.
When he visited my cell to casually announce my father's execution and drag a silver dagger across my neck, he expected me to beg.
Instead, I laughed, sank my teeth directly into his carotid artery, and was violently thrown against a jagged stone wall to my death.
As my skull cracked and my blood stained the moss, I thought about my so-called family. The moment Brandt had demanded me, my father, the Duke, handed me over without a single hesitation to save his own political career.
I was nothing but a disposable pawn, left to rot in the dark while the monsters who ruined my life thrived.
I died suffocating on my own blood and absolute, destructive vengeance.
Then, I opened my eyes.
I was lying in my silk-sheeted bed, reborn as my fifteen-year-old self.
Today was the exact day Lord Daryl Langley, the God of War, would be ambushed and crippled—the event that allowed Brandt to seize ultimate power.
I immediately stole a horse, rode to the palace gates, and threw myself directly in front of Daryl's moving carriage.
"I just didn't want to see a hero die like a slaughtered pig."
I didn't care if I had to shatter my own ankle to hijack his convoy. This time, I was going to save the general, and he would become the blade I use to slaughter them all.
8.7
I woke up from a coma in the hospital, universally condemned as the vicious daughter who pushed the beloved fake heiress, Georgina, down the stairs.
My ruthless billionaire brother, Angelo, stood over my bed with cold eyes, ready to destroy me for hurting his precious sister.
But as I looked at him, a terrifying prophecy from my coma flooded my brain. Our entire family was doomed.
In the original timeline, Georgina would team up with corporate rivals to bankrupt the company, frame Angelo, and send him to federal prison, while our parents would abandon me to die miserably.
Lying there, I didn't dare speak. I just desperately cursed my idiot brother in my head.
"This stupid brother is still yelling at me for that fake heiress. He doesn't even know he's going to be framed and sent to prison next month!"
I just wanted to stay quiet, let them ruin themselves, and run away from this toxic family.
But strangely, Angelo didn't strangle me. Instead, his attitude took a shocking turn.
He abruptly fired the driver plotting to kill him, destroyed the abusive fiancé of a family ally, and publicly humiliated Georgina at a high-society gala.
He even shielded me from our abusive parents, declaring to the world that I was the only sister he would ever protect.
I was completely terrified and confused. Why was the tyrant brother suddenly acting like a protective beast?
It wasn't until he flawlessly crushed a massive corporate attack using the exact financial secrets I had just complained about in my mind that a horrifying realization hit me.
He could hear my inner thoughts!
8.1
Pretty Devil
8.1
Maddy worked at an exclusive underground club, always hidden behind a sleek black mask. One night, a wealthy client approached her with a filthy fantasy , he didn't want to just fuck her. He wanted to be her complete slave.
He took her to his luxury penthouse, while she shoved her soaked pussy onto his face and rode his tongue until she came, then mounted his cock and used him mercilessly, slapping and choking him while denying his orgasm until he begged like a broken whore. Even after she quit the club and started a new corporate job, she kept hooking up with him. One day, she walked into the CEO's office... and froze. Her new boss was the same man.
By day, in his luxurious office, he is the dominant, commanding CEO , barking orders, running the company with iron authority, and no one suspects a thing. By night, he becomes her secret pathetic slave: crawling, getting pegged over his own desk, licking her cum off his floor, and having his cock locked in chastity while she laughs at how easily she owns him.
Pretty Devil is a raw, extremely explicit erotic novel packed with intense femdom, heavy BDSM, humiliation, orgasm denial, pegging, face-sitting, and twisted power exchanges that blur the dangerous line between boss and secret slave.
This book is unapologetically nasty and graphic. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
7.9
For five years, April Gamble loved Julian Travis with everything she had, trusting him completely.
But on a stormy night, he casually tossed a liquidation agreement at her feet, single-handedly destroying her grandfather's company.
He coldly admitted he only dated her to steal Vance Group's internal financial data.
"You were convenient," Julian said, swirling his whiskey without a shred of guilt.
Before April could even process the brutal betrayal, a breaking news alert lit up her phone.
She watched in absolute horror as her grandfather jumped from the ledge of the Vance Tower on live television.
Julian looked at her writhing, screaming form with utter boredom and simply ordered his bodyguard to throw her out.
Blinded by grief and tears, April sped into the torrential rain, only to be completely crushed by a hydroplaning transport truck at an intersection.
As the shattered glass tore into her skin and the metal crushed her ribs, she died with a hatred so pure it made her teeth ache.
Why did five years of devotion mean absolutely nothing to him? Why did her family have to die just to feed his ruthless greed?
When she opened her eyes again, the harsh hospital lights blinded her, but the familiar burn scar on her arm was gone.
She wasn't the betrayed financial analyst April Gamble anymore.
She had woken up in the body of Altagracia Blanchard, the most notorious, obscenely wealthy heiress in New York.
Julian had taken everything from her, but now, armed with a billionaire's empire, she was going to bury him.
7.2
Christa discovered her adopted daughter Evelyn was sneaking around with a street thug named Dante.
When she furiously confronted her, Evelyn squeezed out a few tears and played the tragic, abused orphan.
"Mom is so cruel to me, I just want someone to love me," Evelyn cried to the men of the house, who instantly took her side.
Christa didn't realize her anger only gave the girl the perfect victim card. Evelyn manipulated the family's guilt to drain their wealth and orchestrate a massive corporate fraud.
When the authorities closed in, Evelyn let Christa's eldest daughter Julianna take the fall, sending her to federal prison.
The Stephenson family went completely bankrupt.
Christa's husband Grant, crushed by the betrayal and debt, jumped off a Manhattan skyscraper.
Until her family was entirely destroyed, Christa couldn't understand. They had given the orphan a home, a trust fund, and endless love.
Why did Evelyn treat them like easy marks? Why did she use their kindness as a weapon to tear them apart?
Opening her eyes again, Christa saw the heavy velvet drapes letting in the pale morning light.
She was back seven years ago, on the exact day she first caught Evelyn texting that thug.
This time, Christa wouldn't scream or fight. She would cut off the money, drop the rules, and watch the parasite dig her own grave.