THE ALPHA'S OBSESSIONs
Rejected by her mate. Bound by a blood tie. And barely alive.
Lara Wolfhart should have been free... but the bond tying her to a monster won't let her go. When Alpha Kael the most feared wolf in Moonshine Pack finds her on the brink of death, he doesn't just save her. He claims her.
But protection comes at a cost. Her past isn't finished with her. Her enemies are closer than she thinks. And the man who once rejected her refuses to let her go... even in death.
One Alpha. One broken girl. One forbidden bond.
Will Lara survive... or will the pack world break her completely?
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Chapter 4
"You need to have a doctor check that."
"It's... it always heals. Eventually." Liora's voice fades when she notices the anger tightening across my face. My eyes travel over the bruises littering her arms, the fading marks around her throat, the wound on her stomach she's trying to hide with that thin dress. My jaw tightens. "Did Trey do this?" I mutter through clenched teeth, gesturing toward her injuries. Her blue eyes drop instantly. "Liora?" Silence. "Cassius then? That idiot that trails behind Trey like a shadow? Or the other two mutts with him?" She pulls the dress tighter around herself and gives a small nod. Her fingers brush her cheek, wiping away a tear that slips out before she can stop it. "Anyone else?" I press.
"The pack," she whispers so quietly it's almost swallowed by the room. A low growl rumbles in my chest. I'm going to kill them all, Aero snarls inside my head. He'll have to get in line. "Because of what they think you did to your parents?" I ask. She nods again. "I don't believe you were responsible." That makes her finally look up. Confusion twists across her face as her brows pull together.
"Because of... Blood of Wolfsbane?" she murmurs. I blink. "Liora." "I... I don't know what Blood of Wolfsbane is," she says quietly. I frown. "Your brother said you knew plants. Said you could tell the difference between them."
"I... I can't remember everything," she admits, her voice barely above a breath. "Not properly." I rub a hand over my jaw. "Blood of Wolfsbane is wolfsbane fed with our blood. The leaves turn red. It's rare and dangerous. Packs don't grow it openly because of what it can do." I pause, watching her reaction.
"No child would know what it is unless someone taught them." Her eyes drop again. "Your brother's story doesn't add up," I mutter. "Someone lied." "Oh." The small word leaves her lips like she doesn't know what else to say. I push myself off the desk, staring down at her. "I won't stop until I find out who really did this to you, Liora," I tell her quietly, my crimson eyes narrowing. "And when I do, they'll pay for every second of suffering you endured." She stays silent, but I can see the thoughts racing behind her eyes.
"Right now though," I add, gesturing toward her stomach, "you need to see the pack doctor before that infection spreads." She presses her lips together and nods. "Come," I say, turning toward the door. "I'll show you our bedroom. You can shower first." She freezes instantly. I glance back over my shoulder. "Our bedroom?" she repeats softly like she isn't sure she heard me correctly.
Yes. Our.
The realization clearly hits her all at once. Her shoulders tense, a shiver running down her spine. She probably thinks I expect sex whenever I want because she's my contract bride. I pretend not to notice. Adjusting her dress to cover herself, she steps into the hallway behind me. The corridors are quiet, empty. Our footsteps echo softly against the polished floors. I point out a few rooms as we walk. "Training room. Library. Council room."
But honestly, I'm more focused on getting her cleaned up before that wound gets worse. When we reach my bedroom, she stops again. The room is massive, windows stretching from floor to ceiling, letting in pale light. The bed sits against the far wall, surrounded by thin drapes hanging from the ceiling and tied back loosely at each post. Her gaze drifts toward the bathroom area and she stiffens. The bath and shower sit openly within the room itself. Only the toilet is hidden behind a small door. No privacy. Not that I care. I step closer, leaning slightly toward her ear and she jumps when my breath brushes her skin.
"You don't need to be afraid," I murmur. Even if I couldn't smell another male on her, I'd still feel the shift in her emotions through the bond forming between us. Crossing the room, I pull open the glass shower door and turn the water on. Steam begins to fog the glass almost instantly. When I turn back, she's still standing exactly where I left her, staring like she's waiting for the trap to spring. I tilt her chin up with two fingers. "Hey," I say quietly. "It's just you and me." Her eyes widen slightly.
I pull my phone from my pocket and set an alarm before placing it on the bedside table. "Ten minutes," I tell her. "I'll come back then with clothes for you. Stay in the towel until I return. Understand?" She nods. No words. Just that small, nervous nod again. I move toward the door but pause with my hand resting on the knob. Glancing back at her, I sigh softly. "I really wish you'd talk more, Liora." Then I leave her alone. The moment the door closes, she rushes for the shower like she's escaping into another world. Maybe for her, it is. Warm water pours over her body as she scrubs away dirt and sweat. The scent of soap fills the room as she washes her hair, her skin, everything like she's trying to erase years of misery. The wound on her stomach burns under the hot water, but she doesn't stop. A simple shower must feel like heaven compared to whatever she had before.
Minutes pass. I return and clear my throat loudly. She freezes behind the fogged glass. "Liora," I call out. "The alarm went off five minutes ago." Silence. "Are you done?" "Coming," she mutters quickly. The water shuts off and a towel wraps tightly around her body before she steps out. Her torn dress, old underwear, and worn sandals are gone from the floor. I'm sitting at the edge of the bed holding folded clothes and a pair of trainers.
"It's not much," I say, handing them over. "We don't exactly have anyone with a waist as small as yours." The outfit is simple navy joggers and a matching sweatshirt. "And the underwear will arrive tomorrow morning," I add casually. "You'll have to survive without it tonight." I raise an eyebrow as she dresses quickly. Joggers first. Sweatshirt second. Then the towel drops and she tosses it aside without hesitation. No teasing, no flirting, no attempt to impress me. She refuses to even look at me. Interesting. Most women would be parading around naked right now if they were alone in my bedroom. Liora just looks like she wants to disappear.
"Let's go," I say, standing. This time she follows immediately. The pack hospital isn't far from the main house. The doctor working tonight is young, nothing like the ancient coward from her old pack. She looks up when we walk in, quickly tying her dark hair into a bun. "Raven," I say, gesturing to the girl beside me. "This is Liora." Liora keeps her eyes lowered.
"Alpha Dane," Raven greets with a friendly smile before glancing curiously at Liora. "What seems to be the problem... aside from the strange scent she brought with her?" The comment isn't cruel. Just curious.
"She'll tell you herself when she finds her tongue," I reply dryly.
"I have a wound," Liora whispers finally. Raven's brows knit together. "And you're not healing?"
"I... don't have my wolf." The words sound like a confession. Like shame.
"Her wolf was bound when she was a child," I explain calmly. "That's why her scent is strange. The wolf is still there... locked away and waiting to be freed." Liora's eyes flicker up at me in shock. She'd always believed her wolf was gone. Not trapped. Raven stares at her for a moment, clearly fascinated. "Wow... okay," she says softly before grabbing Liora's hand. "Come with me. Let's take a look at that wound of yours."
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8.3
My cousin Hailey paid a dock worker to assault me just to ruin my engagement.
To survive the military-grade aphrodisiac she poisoned me with, I stumbled into a walk-in freezer and threw myself onto the only source of cold I could find-a man paralyzed by unnatural hypothermia.
It was a desperate, primal exchange of my heat for his ice just to keep my heart from stopping.
But when Hailey threw open the heavy iron door, leading my fiancé and the entire Bolton family to witness my "shame," her triumphant grin instantly vanished.
She hadn't caught me with a low-life thug.
She had caught me straddling Demetrius Maddox, the ruthless Iron King of Chicago.
The air in the room dropped to absolute zero. My grandmother screamed in horror, and my father turned the color of ash.
Hailey, blinded by jealousy, tried to double down. She pointed a manicured finger at the deadliest man in the city and called him a "nameless muscle" I picked up to defile the family name.
She didn't realize she had just signed her own death warrant.
I didn't cower. I realized this was the only chance to survive the family that wanted me dead.
I walked up to the Devil himself, my body still humming with the poison, and looked him in the eye.
"Kill me, and the cold inside you wins," I whispered, knowing he was dying from the inverse of my own poison. "I am the only doctor who knows how to cure you."
Demetrius tightened his hand around my throat, his dark eyes assessing my worth.
"Prove it," he growled.
I turned back to my trembling cousin and signaled the enforcer to hand me the whip.
8.0
For Claire, Christmas has always been about survival. She only wanted to keep life steady for her daughter Emma after heartbreak and loss. Moving to a quiet snowy town was meant to be a fresh start, not the beginning of something new for her heart.
Jack, a widowed single father, has built his world around his children. He has hidden his own longing for love beneath duty and routine. But when Claire and Emma step into his life, the walls he carefully built begin to melt away like snow under the winter sun.
As festive lights glow and snow falls gently around them, Claire and Jack discover laughter, warmth, and the kind of connection they never thought they would feel again. Their children bond, their hearts open, and slowly, a friendship begins to grow into something far deeper.
But love after loss is never simple. Can Claire trust her heart again. Can Jack embrace the future instead of living in the past.
This Christmas, two families are given a second chance to heal, to hope, and to find themselves forever in each other's arms.
Christmas in Your Arms is a heartwarming holiday romance filled with tender moments, snowy nights, and the magic of love that feels like coming home.
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.
7.1
I never should have let my mother hold my future hostage.
She paid my tuition with his father's money. Locked my birth certificate, my transcripts, every scrap of paper I need to survive in a safe I'll never open. And the one thing I had left of my dad, his old watch, she dangled like a noose.
Run, and I lose my education. Fight, and I lose the last piece of the man who actually loved me.
So I moved into the Hunters' mansion. Into the lair of the boy who spent years making my life hell.
Chase Hunter. Six-foot-five of pure venom wrapped in muscle and money. The senior who cornered me in empty hallways, who whispered filth in my ear just to watch me flinch, who smiled that sharp, cruel smile every time I broke a little more.
I thought graduation meant freedom from him.
I was wrong.
Now he's my stepbrother.
He hates that I'm here. Hates my mother for sinking her claws into his father. Hates me most of all, for breathing his air, for walking his halls, for daring to exist where he can reach me.
But hate isn't clean anymore.
It's tangled up in heat. In the way his grey eyes strip me bare every time they land on me. In the way his hand closes around my throat, not to hurt, but to own. In the way he punishes me over his lap, in his car, against walls, until I'm shaking and soaked and furious at myself for wanting more.
He calls me Little Lamb like it's poison on his tongue.
I call him every name I can think of under my breath.
How long until we stop fighting the deadly inferno raging between us and finally let it consume us both?
7.6
I was kneeling on the cold concrete of an abandoned warehouse, staring at a ticking timer while a masked man held a knife to my throat. My fiancé's nephew, Preston, finally burst through the door, but he wasn't alone. He was clutching my stepsister, Felicia, both of them looking frantic.
The kidnapper gave Preston a brutal choice: the bomb was rigged to the door, and he could only take one woman with him. The other would stay behind to burn.
Without a single second of hesitation, Preston grabbed Felicia's hand and turned his back on me.
"I'm sorry, Annelise," he said, his voice flat and devoid of any real regret.
He slammed the heavy iron door shut, leaving me to scream in the darkness as the flames began to roar. He didn't just leave me to die; he did it to protect his inheritance, treating me like a piece of trash that was finally being cleared from his path.
Later, in the hospital, he didn't even offer an apology. Instead, he raised his hand to strike me, threatening to finish what the fire started if I dared to speak a word about his cowardice. His stepsister laughed, trying to pour scalding coffee on my face while calling me a pathetic loser who should have stayed in the warehouse.
I sat there, cowering and shaking like a broken girl, letting them believe they had won. I watched their cruelty with wide, watery eyes, wondering how they could be so blind to the monster they were provoking.
What Preston didn't know was that the entire kidnapping was a performance I had choreographed myself, and every second of his betrayal was recorded in 4K.
Now, I've successfully moved into the manor of the real king-his uncle, Francesco Lancaster. He thinks he's rescued a wounded bird, but he's actually invited a world-class predator into his home. The game is no longer about survival; it's about total destruction.
7.0
Kael Draven died in the most humiliating way possible.
Run over... while trying to save a piece of fried chicken.
But death was not the end.
When he opens his eyes, Kael finds himself reborn in a world of magic, monsters, and powerful mages. There is only one problem.
He is the weakest mage in the academy.
No talent. No skills. No magic that actually works.
But just when everything seems hopeless, Kael discovers something strange.
His luck... is completely broken.
Spells miss him by accident. Enemies defeat themselves. Disasters turn into miracles. Every mistake somehow becomes a perfect victory.
People start to notice.
A genius. A hidden master. A terrifying prodigy.
The more Kael tries to explain, the worse the misunderstandings become.
"I tripped," Kael insists.
"They call it flawless execution."
As rumors spread and powerful enemies begin to watch him, Kael is pulled into conflicts far beyond his understanding. From academy duels to world-shaking wars, his so-called "luck" begins to reveal something far more dangerous.
Because this power is not random.
And Kael might not be its first owner.
Now hunted by those who fear him, trusted by those who believe in him, and followed by a mysterious silver-haired mage who refuses to look away...
Kael must survive a world that thinks he is a genius.
Even if he knows the truth.
"I am not strong," Kael says.
The world disagrees.