Seven Miscarriages For My Mate
For ten years, I was bound to Julian, my heart tied to a wolf who promised me forever. Seven miscarriages scarred me, each loss cutting deeper. Pregnant again, I trusted Julian-until I saw him with my sister Chloe, cradling their secret pup. Betrayed by him and my family, I survived a fire meant to kill me, saved by healer Lucas. With him, I reclaimed my dance and found true love. Facing Julian's regret and Chloe's vengeance, I built a new life, holding my child, my scars finally healing.
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Chapter 3
I didn't just give up my room-I called Martha over to clear out my stuff. She moved fast, wiping away every trace of me like I'd never been there. In no time, Chloe's belongings filled the space, her scent marking what used to be mine. Within half an hour, a shiny new pup's room stood ready, decked out with care.
I watched Chloe eagerly settle in with her pup, my eyes lingering on the room. That crib alone, shipped from other packs, must've taken months to arrange. They'd been planning this for a while, hadn't they? My heart sank, and I lowered my gaze.
I dragged my suitcase to the smallest room in the den, tucked away in a corner. I didn't bother unpacking. What was the point? I'd ride out these last days and leave for good, never bothering their perfect little pack again.
But that night, the quiet shattered. After dinner, Chloe knocked and barged in without waiting for my okay.
"Sophia, thanks for being so big-hearted," she said, her face still infuriatingly radiant. "Me and Alex have a place to call home because of you. I got you a little something to show my gratitude."
I stepped back, wary. "No need. Letting you stay was their call. Just focus on healing up so they can stop worrying."
She didn't back off. Instead, she closed the distance. "Don't be scared, Sophia. I've changed. I've spent years regretting what I did. I'd never hurt you again."
Before I could protest, she shoved a fancy-wrapped box into my arms. "Mom and Dad want us to get along. I picked this out special. If you turn it down, it'll break their hearts."
I had no choice but to take it. I glanced down, and my blood ran cold. It was a photo-a face I'd never forget. That wolf, leering, dragging me into an alley years ago, his rough hands tearing at my clothes, his foul breath hot on my neck. If Julian hadn't shown up, I might've never walked out of there. That moment became my recurring nightmare.
My hands shook, and I flung the box and photo away. It hit Chloe's arm, and she let out a dramatic yelp. "Sophia, no-!"
Footsteps thundered downstairs. Julian yanked me back, rushing to Chloe's side. "What happened? You okay?"
Her voice quivered with fake tears. "Sophia let us stay, no grudges, and I was so grateful. I got her a gift to bury the hatchet. But. I guess she still hates me. She threw it at me."
My back throbbed from where I'd hit the railing, but I gritted my teeth and stood. "She gave me a photo of the wolf who attacked me," I said, shaking my head. "I was scared and dropped it. It wasn't on purpose!"
Julian frowned. "That old lone wolf's still locked up. No kin, no nothing. Where'd a photo of him come from? Sophia, there's a limit to how far you can push this."
My eyes burned. I pointed at the photo on the floor. "Look for yourself! I'm not lying!"
He picked it up, his brow furrowing after a glance. My stomach dropped. I snatched it from him, forcing myself to look despite the fear clawing at me.
The photo had changed. The snarling, meaty face was gone, replaced by some kindly old wolf I didn't know.
"How.?" I stammered, shaking my head, my voice barely a whisper.
Chloe's expression crumpled, her voice breaking. "That's. my birth father. When I found out I wasn't Mom and Dad's true pup, it tore me up. I wanted to track down my real parents, ask why they abandoned me, why they switched me with you and left me to carry this guilt." She paused, tears welling. "I had this photo taken after I found them. I must've put it in the wrong box. I never thought you'd think that of me."
Her voice broke into sobs. Julian's throat bobbed, his eyes softening with pity. "Chloe."
She wiped her tears, shaking her head. "I'm fine. Sophia's been under so much stress. Maybe she saw it wrong."
"No!" I pleaded, turning to Julian, Mom, and Dad. "It was him, I swear! I don't know how it changed!"
"Enough!" Julian cut me off, helping Chloe up with a gentle tone. "Let's get you back to your room."
I stared at their retreating backs, his soft words to her echoing. "No more gifts. They won't appreciate it, and you're the one who ends up hurt."
I turned, meeting Mom and Dad's disappointed gazes.
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8.8
The Offering of the Blood Moon
In the savage and intoxicating kingdom of the Legion, the Blood Moon does not simply rise it awakens a hunger that demands to be satisfied... by flesh, by fire, by fate.
Kiana was raised to hate the beasts and fear the shadows, to believe that being taken meant losing everything. But when she is torn from her village and delivered into the arms of Silas, the Alpha King, she discovers the truth is far more dangerous
Her greatest threat is not death.
It's the way her body betrays her in his presence.
Silas is dominance carved into living form iron muscle, quiet authority, and a darkness that wraps around her like a slow, suffocating promise. He is a king who does not ask, He takes,He commands, He owns, Yet the one woman who should fall at his feet dares to meet his gaze, challenge his control, and ignite something wild beneath his carefully restrained power.
And Silas... does not walk away from what tempts him.
Their connection is immediate. Violent. Addictive.
Every clash of words burns hotter than the last. Every step closer feels like crossing a line neither of them can uncross. The tension between them coils tight, thick with heat and unspoken hunger, until even the air feels too heavy to breathe.
In the quiet shadows of the royal chambers, where the moonlight spills like liquid silver across bare skin, resistance begins to crack. The scent of cedar and rain clings to him as he closes in, his presence overwhelming, his touch slow and deliberate-like he already knows exactly how she'll respond.
And she does.
Every time.
His hands don't just touch they linger. Claim. Promise.
Every brush of his lips is not gentle... it's consuming.
And when his mouth finds the sensitive curve of her neck, Kiana's defiance falters, her breath catching as something deeper, darker, and far more dangerous rises to the surface an aching, restless need she cannot fight, no matter how hard she tries.
Because this is not just desire.
It is a bond that burns.
A pull that tightens.
A hunger that refuses to be denied.
Yet the closer they get, the more dangerous the line becomes.
Between control... and surrender.
Between hatred... and craving.
Between captor... and something far more consuming.
Because under the Blood Moon, nothing is ever halfway.
And once you're claimed...
There is no escape.
9.8
Aurora Vale was trained to be a weapon beautiful, precise, and disposable. Recruited as a teenager into a covert intelligence division that officially doesn't exist, Aurora has spent her life seducing secrets out of powerful men and destroying targets without ever pulling a trigger. Cold. Calculated. Untouchable. Inside the agency, she is known as The Steel Heart an operative who never fails and never feels.
Until her latest mission. Her target is Valerio Blackthorn, an untouchable crime lord feared even by governments brilliant, disciplined, and impossible to trap. Assigned as his personal bodyguard, Aurora is meant to get close, extract information, and deliver him to a massive takedown operation.
What she doesn't know is that Valerio has already seen the trap. Instead of exposing her, he lets her stay watching, testing, dismantling her carefully crafted tactics with unsettling calm. As the line between hunter and prey blurs, Aurora begins to realize the truth: Valerio is not the monster she was sent to destroy. And the government she serves is far more corrupt than the criminal world she was trained to infiltrate.
When Aurora discovers that the mission is not about justice but about silencing a former ally who refused to be controlled she makes an impossible choice. She betrays the agency. She saves the man she was meant to destroy.
Now branded a rogue agent with a kill on sight order, Aurora is forced into the shadows alongside Valerio. Hunted by her own government and by a ruthless international syndicate seeking revenge, the two must survive a war where trust is dangerous, love is lethal, and freedom comes at a devastating price.
As bullets fly and secrets explode onto the global stage, Aurora must decide who she truly is a weapon, a traitor, or a woman reclaiming her soul. In a world ruled by lies and power, love may be the most dangerous rebellion of all.
9.7
"How do I tell the world that my first orgasm came from my father's son-my brother, and he doesn't know yet?"
Annabel Green, who had caught her first ever lover, James, in bed with Stephanie, her best friend, went on a mission of revenge.
After she found out that the man who she bumped into at the club that night she caught her ex cheating, is actually Stephanie's fiancé-Daniel stroke.
She planned on using him as a tool just to make James regret cheating on her and drive Stephanie insane.
But she had no idea that Daniel was her father's son. By the time she had gotten her revenge, only then did they realize how late it was, because they had both fallen hopelessly in love.
Now the question is who will let each other go? Will Daniel and Annabel agree to part ways just to see their parents happy. Or will their parents actually get a divorce in order to see their children live a happy life?
8.1
I died once. Betrayed, broken, and discarded by the most powerful man in New York.
Now, I'm back. Reborn on the very day my husband, Dante Moretti, handed me an expulsion agreement. But this time, I know his secret. The coldness in his eyes isn't cruelty; it's a slow-acting poison, a betrayal creeping through his veins, fed to him by those closest to him.
This time, I don't cower. I meet his icy command with a slap and an ultimatum: I carry his heir. To cast me out is to sentence his own bloodline to death.
He is the untouchable Don, a king on a poisoned throne, fighting a war within his own mind. I am the ghost of the queen he tried to break, armed with the memories of our enemies' every move.
I won't be a pawn in their game again. I will dismantle them all, from my treacherous sister to the viper he calls a mother. I will be the queen he needs, even if he fights me every step of the way.
It's a vendetta.
7.5
It took seven years for Ethan to convince me I was the center of his universe, and exactly seven weeks for his "business partner," Chloe, to prove I was just a placeholder.
I was the woman who ironed his shirts and managed his schedule, yet she was the one he comforted at 2 AM.
But the real end didn't come with a fight. It came with an explosion.
At a family gathering, a gas heater malfunctioned. Glass shattered, and fire erupted. In that split second of life or death, Ethan didn't look for me.
He threw his body over Chloe.
He shielded her from the flames, cocooning her in his arms, whispering frantically to her while I stood twenty feet away, watching my boyfriend of seven years act like I didn't exist.
When I confronted him later, he didn't apologize. Instead, he let Chloe carve her initials over ours on our anniversary tree.
When I tried to stop them, he shoved me into the dirt to comfort her over a broken nail.
"You are dead to me, Ava," he screamed. "Jealousy makes you ugly."
He thought I would beg. He thought I was an appliance he could unplug and plug back in whenever he wanted. He was arrogant enough to believe I would always be there, waiting for his scraps.
He was wrong.
While he was playing hero to his mistress, I didn't cry.
I booked a one-way ticket to Portland, snapped my SIM card in half, and vanished.
By the time he realized the silence in his apartment wasn't peace, but abandonment, I was already gone.
9.2
My husband, Roger Harvey, was a renowned top-tier lawyer in the industry, but he could never remember anything outside of his cases.
He never remembered my birthday or our wedding anniversary.
Every night he stood at the bedroom door and asked politely yet distantly, "Is this the one?"
He could not even remember my name or what I looked like.
To make him "remember" me, I hung our wedding photo on the wall with a label underneath. "Anniversary: May 20."
I put a nameplate on the bedroom door that read "Bedroom."
I even labeled everything in the house with sticky notes that explained in detail how to use each item and its background.
I thought it was a side effect of his high-pressure job, so I never complained.
That changed the day a multi-car pileup sent both me and his childhood friend, Sylvie Gordon, into the emergency room at the same time.
He rushed frantically to Sylvie's bedside and shouted in a clear, urgent voice, "She has tachycardia. She caught a cold last month but no fever."
The nurse handling the rescue grabbed him and asked, "Sir, your wife is also seriously injured. Does she have any medical history or allergies?"
He turned his head, looked at me covered in blood, and shook his head blankly. "I don't remember."
In that moment I finally understood. He was not forgetful. His memory was astonishingly sharp.
He simply reserved that precise, precious memory for someone else.
Everything about me he had never cared to keep in his heart.
This was a dramatic tug-of-war between love and betrayal.
It was a heart-wrenching journey of self-redemption.
Yet when I decided to leave, he was suddenly filled with panic...