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 4
Brendan POV:
The empty teacup hit the wooden counter with a loud, heavy thud. I had tried to set it down gently, but the violent storm of pain in my chest made my muscles jerk.
June frowned. She immediately reached out and pulled the cup away, placing it safely in the sink. She had always been fiercely protective of her belongings, hating when anyone treated things with disrespect.
I realized my mistake instantly. Panic flared in my gut. I wiped my sweaty palms on my cheap jeans, suddenly terrified. I was a man who used to flip massive mahogany tables when I was angry, and now a single frown from her made my blood run cold.
I took a deep breath and leaned over the glass counter, pretending to examine a tarnished brass pocket watch. I needed to get closer. The visual and taste tests had broken me, but my wolf was screaming for her scent. I needed the smell of my mate to calm the raging beast under my skin.
As the distance between us closed, my nostrils flared. I pushed my werewolf senses to the maximum. I waited for the sweet, intoxicating scent of moonflowers that always clung to her skin.
But the smell that hit my nose was wrong. I smelled the old wood of the shop, the metallic tang of the silver, and a heavy, cheap, artificial vanilla body wash.
The spell hadn't just erased her memory. It had completely mutated her pheromones.
My body locked up. The giant wolf inside my mind let out a long, agonizing howl of pure grief. To a werewolf, losing the scent of your mate was like having half of your soul surgically removed without anesthesia.
I couldn't accept it. I leaned in further, my chest almost brushing against her shoulder as I desperately chased a ghost of her scent.
June sensed the aggressive intrusion. Her human survival instincts kicked in. She took a large, quick step backward, putting distance between us.
Her eyes turned hard and guarded. "Mr. Bren, please maintain a proper social distance." Her voice was a wall of cold, modern civility.
I looked at the suspicion in her eyes, and my heart twisted. I realized how I looked. I looked like a creeping predator.
I immediately threw my hands up in a gesture of surrender, forcing a pathetic, self-deprecating smile. "I'm sorry. I'm just... I haven't been this close to another person in a very long time."
The harsh edge in June’s eyes softened slightly at my pathetic excuse, but she stayed firmly out of my reach. She didn't hate me, but she definitely didn't trust me.
The awkward silence in the shop was suffocating. Then, the brass bell above the door chimed merrily.
I snapped my head toward the door, a flash of pure, murderous rage crossing my face. Whoever dared to interrupt my time with her was going to die.
Frankie walked in. He was holding a brown paper bag, bringing a gust of cold autumn wind with him. He looked like the perfect, wholesome savior.
The moment June saw Frankie, the tension melted from her shoulders. A bright, genuine, beautiful smile broke across her face.
Seeing her smile at him was a slow, torturous execution. The golden light of my wolf threatened to bleed into my eyes. My jealousy was a physical fire burning my veins.
"Frankie, don't you have classes today?" June’s voice was light and happy. There was zero defense in her tone.
Frankie walked straight to the counter and set the paper bag down. "Lunch break. I brought you your favorite tuna sandwich." He was marking his territory with domestic garbage.
Then, Frankie reached out and casually tucked a stray strand of hair behind June’s ear.
My breathing turned into heavy, ragged pants. My fingernails sliced through the skin of my palms. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to rip his throat out right there.
Frankie slowly turned his head, acting as if he had just noticed me standing there. His acting was flawless. He pretended the rainy alley last night had never happened.
He offered me a polite smile, but his eyes behind the gold-rimmed glasses were dead and cold. "And who is this?"
"A new neighbor, Mr. Bren," June said casually. "Bren, this is Frankie, my... good friend."
*Good friend.* The words sounded like a death sentence.
Frankie extended his right hand toward me. "Hello, Mr. Bren. I'm the history teacher at the elementary school."
I stared at his long, pale hand. My eyes darkened with absolute hatred.
I slowly reached out my own scarred, calloused hand and gripped his. The second our skin touched, the temperature in the room plummeted.
A cruel, violent smirk pulled at the corner of my mouth. I was going to crush this human's hand into powder.
"Nice to meet you, 'teacher'."
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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.