The Luna Princess: Ashes of Love
8.2 / 10.0
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Princess Nora Durkehn, a luna princess, was born with a rare treasure buried in her soul, that could save her entire world.
But one act of mercy destroyed everything.
At eighteen, Nora freed the boy she loved from her father's prison.
That night, he led the Shadow Fang pack in an attack that killed her father, enslaved her people, and left her with nothing but ashes and rage.
Now, years later in exile, Princess Nora carries the burden of the past tragedy that left her pack in ruins and her heart scarred, symbolized by the 'ashes of love'.
But a mysterious threat emerges and Nora is forced back into her world with the determination to set things right.
But her fate entangles again as she encounters Fredwinn, a dangerously charming Alpha from the very pack that destroyed her life (The Shadow Fang Pack).
Fated had it that Fredwinn was her mate that could help save her enslaved people.
But how can she trust him when everyone she's ever loved has betrayed her?
As Nora discovers the true extent of her powers and uncovers hidden truths, she must decide: Can she trust a fated bond forged in blood and betrayal?
Will her love destroy her again like it did before?
But one thing was certain.
Nora must rekindle the 'ashes of love' within her, embrace her true power, and lead her people, even if it means sacrificing her own happiness for the greater good.
A tale of fated mates, forbidden love, and a princess rising from the ashes of despair.
The Luna Princess: Ashes of Love Chapter 1
Prologue
The Weight of a Silver Crown
The silence of the northern peaks was a lie. To anyone else, it was the peaceful hush of nature, but to Nora Durkehn, it was a deafening scream of everything she had lost.
She sat on a jagged rock overlooking the mist-covered valley, her fingers tracing the rough bark of a fallen pine.
At eighteen, she should have been celebrating the completion of her Wolf Awakening.
As the granddaughter of the Great Priestess, Nora had been born with a rare, ancient power–a hum in her blood that felt like starlight and healing. She was meant to be the pride of the Durkehn line, a beacon of kindness and strength for her people.
Instead, she was a ghost.
"He's a spy, Nora. The boy is a cancer in our midst," her father's voice echoed in her mind.
Jones Durkehn had been a wise Alpha, a man who treated the powerless with the same dignity as the strongest warriors. He had been strict but loving, his eyes always softening when they landed on his daughter.
Nora closed her eyes, and the memory of that night hit her like a physical blow.
"They're wrong about you...," she had whispered that night, "Go. Run before they do something they regret."
But her "mercy" had been the blade that pierced the heart of her people.
Jones had whispered to Nora in his final moments.
"Inside you, Nora... it holds the treasure. You are the only one who can save us."
She hadn't saved them. She had watched from the shadows as the enemies tore through their village.
Her pack was being led away in chains.
A low, mournful vibration hummed in Nora's chest. Her wolf, Mega-sized and silver-furred, stirred in the depths of her soul.
It was a creature so massive that no building could hold it, a titan of fur and fang that Nora now kept tightly caged.
She felt useless, a princess of ashes who had traded her people's lives for a traitor's freedom.
She looked down at her hands. They were steady, but they felt heavy with the blood of her clan.
Somewhere beyond these mountains, her people were being treated as property, living in the shadow of a hidden war she had inadvertently started.
And now, all that remained was a power she could barely control... and a war that had only just begun.
This time, she swore not make the same mistake.
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The Luna Princess: Ashes of Love of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels
7.6
When the Pollard family kicked Alyssa out into the freezing rain, Walter threw a ten-thousand-dollar check into a dirty puddle.
"Take it and get out. Don't ever come back," he sneered.
Her adoptive mother and stepsister stood on the mansion's porch, mocking her as a worthless country girl who tarnished their wealthy name. They laughed, claiming she wouldn't even be able to afford community college and would be begging on the streets in a week.
They looked at her cheap clothes and worn backpack with absolute disgust.
They were completely unaware that for the past five years, Alyssa was the secret mastermind who had built their failing gallery into a multi-million-dollar investment empire.
Every key investment, every fortune they made, came from the anonymous notes she had slipped into their unread books. They genuinely believed they were business geniuses, while treating the true architect of their wealth like a stray dog.
Looking at their smug, arrogant faces, Alyssa didn't feel a shred of sadness, only a cold, sharp irony.
They actually believed they had raised her.
She stepped close, whispered the master code to Walter's most secret offshore account, and watched the blood completely drain from his face.
"I raised you," she said, turning her back on the mansion without hesitation.
Walking into the storm, she pulled out a heavily encrypted phone and gave a single, cold order.
"Initiate a full hostile takeover of the Pollard Group."
It was time to end this little game and step into her true life—as the world's most elusive medical genius, and the long-lost billionaire heiress of the Summers dynasty.
9.1
He postponed putting my name on the deed 18 times.
Each time, his mentee Ciera had an “emergency.” Each time, he ran to her.
I watched him give her his prized Montblanc pen—the one he wouldn’t even let me borrow. I saw her post their late nights on Instagram. I ate anniversary dinners alone while he “mentored” her.
Then he bought me a necklace—identical to the one she just flaunted online.
That was when I stopped feeling anything.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t fight. I simply packed two suitcases, resigned from our firm, and booked a one-way ticket to London.
He thinks I’m coming back in a week.
He has no idea I’m gone for good.
Nineteen broken promises. One silent goodbye. And a new life waiting across the ocean.
9.0
Allegra woke up in a sterile alien hospital with no memory, no ID chip, and a terrifying snow leopard General claiming responsibility for her crash.
But a routine ID scan at a local boutique shattered her fragile cover.
The machine shrieked, flashing a fatal red warning: NO NEURAL LINK DETECTED.
She was a "Ghost"—an illegal, unregistered biological entity in a ruthless Hybrid Empire.
The boutique locked down instantly. Heavily armed police swarmed the plaza, laser sights painting her chest red.
She was dragged into a subterranean military black site, where a manic geneticist tested her blood and discovered the impossible truth.
She wasn't a Hybrid. She was a pure Homo Sapiens—an extinct race whose mere presence could cure the Hybrids' fatal Psyche collapse.
To keep her all to himself, the scientist lied to the General, branding her a toxic, mutating bio-weapon.
Forced by Imperial law, the General abandoned her to the scientist's cruel custody.
Allegra was locked inside a reinforced glass cage in the deepest isolation ward, waiting to be dissected.
She huddled on the floor, trembling in absolute despair.
She didn't belong in this nightmare world. Why was she being treated like a monster? Why did this madman look at her like a prize to be torn apart?
Watching the scientist's fox ears twitch in manic stress outside the glass, her human empathy momentarily overrode her terror.
She stood up and pressed her palm against the glass, perfectly aligning it with his.
"Don't be so nervous, Mr. Fox."
Instantly, an invisible wave of human resonance flooded his core, shattering his genetic madness.
The terrifying predator was reduced to a whimpering, devoted puppy, pressing himself against the window in absolute submission.
Allegra slowly pulled her hand back, her heart skipping a beat.
Well, she thought, that changes things.
8.3
On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news.
He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city.
The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.”
For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets.
My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me.
So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts.
He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked.
He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree.
He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies.
9.8
Erica Murphy had spent three years rotting in a freezing prison cell.
She thought she was serving time for a tragic accident, but the truth was much darker. Her husband, Colten, had framed her for his mistress's drunk hit-and-run, stolen her fortune, and left her to take the fall.
The day Erica was finally released, a speeding car intentionally slammed into her, shattering her spine. As she lay dying on the emergency room table, flatlining on the monitor, Colten and his pregnant mistress didn't come to save her. Instead, they tossed a stack of divorce papers onto her bloody hospital blanket. They wanted her to sign away her last remaining shares and take on thirty million dollars of toxic corporate debt.
"Sign it," Colten demanded coldly, looking at her crushed body with utter disgust. "Consider this the last bit of dignity I'm giving you."
The original Erica died right there, suffocating in despair and betrayal, unable to understand how the man she loved could be so monstrous.
But when the flatline on the monitor suddenly spiked and her eyes snapped open, the traumatized victim was gone.
Replaced by the cold, calculating consciousness of a future special ops commander. With microscopic nanobots rapidly fusing her shattered bones together, Erica picked up the pen, preparing to burn Colten's entire empire to ashes.
7.9
Cora Foster was a brilliant archaeologist, but a jagged burn scar across her face made the world treat her like a contagious monster.
During an elite excavation of a Gilded Age crypt, touching an ancient artifact triggered a terrifying memory. She remembered being Seraphina Beaumont, a socialite brutally buried alive by her vain, cruel sister, Isolde.
When the team pried open the crypt's pristine mahogany casket, they cheered, believing the mummified corpse inside was Seraphina. But Cora recognized the onyx hairpin and the angular jawline. It was Isolde. The sister who had stolen her life, mocked her agony, and left her to suffocate in the dark. Her colleagues scoffed at her forensic proof, dismissing her as a scarred, delusional liability.
Worse, the ruthless billionaire funding the expedition, Julian Montgomery, was the spitting image of Alistair—the man Seraphina had deeply loved. Why was Julian staring at her ruined face with such intense, inexplicable recognition? And why did Isolde take Seraphina's most precious silver ring to the grave?
Driven by a century of agonizing grief, Cora secretly pried the tarnished ring from the mummy's stiff, dead fingers and dropped it into her pocket.
"What are you looking at, Foster?"
Julian's deep voice vibrated inches from her ear, his cold, predatory eyes locked directly onto her half-open pocket.
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