The Rose Luna
I thought I was just a broke college girl with a traumatic past and too many cigarettes. I didn't know I was born to lead a pack. I didn't know I was being hunted.
On the night of my twenty-fourth birthday, everything changed. One second I was at a club, pretending life didn't suck. The next, I was being dragged out by a stranger with ocean-blue eyes, thrown into a black SUV, and told I was a werewolf.
Apparently, I'm not just any werewolf-I'm the heir to a powerful bloodline, the only survivor of a massacre, and the center of a prophecy that could bring down one of the darkest witches in history.
Now I'm stuck in a mansion full of secrets, locked behind doors I didn't ask for, and shadowed by an Alpha who looks at me like I'm everything he's ever wanted-and everything he's not allowed to have.
They say I belong here.
They say I have power.
But I didn't ask for a bond I don't understand, a fate I don't believe in, or a love that might just break me.
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Chapter 4
I've been standing here for nearly an hour, waiting for this ridiculous party to start. The surrounding humans are oblivious, buzzing with excitement as they line up outside the club. But I could feel her voice in my head, cold and commanding.
Get me that heart.
Her words echo through my mind, and a knot tightens in my chest. Being an underling for this arrogant but powerful witch is a small price to pay for my freedom. I'll do what she asks. I always do.
I watched as a couple bypassed the long line and strolled inside. I could feel them - they were wolves, or at least one of them was. But they weren't my concern. Nothing will stop me tonight.
Impatience thrummed through me as the bouncer lazily let people in, one by one. It felt like an eternity, but finally, I slipped past the threshold and into the club's pulsing chaos. The air inside was thick with the stench of sweat, alcohol, and smoke - the things these humans seemed to revel in. I moved through the crowd, barely noticing the crush of bodies and flashing lights. My mind focused on my task.
I was here for one thing: a witch's heart - a virgin witch, no less, from her bloodline. As I weaved through the crowd of dancers, I felt a strong presence, a powerful aura. I glanced toward one of the VIP areas and spotted an Alpha, a dangerous one. His energy was like a beacon, hard to miss. I made a mental note to keep my distance. Getting tangled up with wolves tonight wasn't part of the plan. I moved to the farthest place from him and searched for this witch.
I pushed farther into the crowd, and then I sensed her. It was like a shift in the air, subtle but unmistakable. My eyes zeroed in on her immediately. There she is.
She was young, not even 20 years old, and slim, with dark hair cascading over her shoulders. Her skin had a warm, deep tone, and her eyes... her eyes gave her away. A soft lilac hue glowed faintly in the club's dim light, betraying her nature. She's a witch. She looked delicate, almost innocent.
It's a shame, really.
I forced a smile, masking my true intentions, and made my way toward her. She noticed me, her lips curving into a coy grin. "Hey," I said, slipping into the smooth, seductive voice I've perfected over centuries. "I saw you dancing, and I couldn't help but notice... you're probably the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. Mind if I join you?"
Her smile widened, a feline glint in her eyes. She was interested. I could feel it - her desire rolling off her in waves. She nodded, and I stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her waist as we moved in sync with the music.
"Your accent is sexy," she whispered, her voice soft against my ear. "Where are you from?"
"Czech," I answered flatly, keeping it brief. There was no need for more conversation. She started babbling about how romantic Europe is and how she's always dreamed of visiting. She did not know her dream would die with her tonight.
We kept dancing, her body pressed eagerly against mine, but I knew I was running out of time. I needed to get her alone. She was panting already, barely able to keep still, and I knew it wouldn't take much more. Her desperation is obvious - written in every sway of her hips, every moan she lets slip as my hand grips her ass like I own it. She's just another girl who wants to feel wanted.
I leaned in, my lips brushing against hers, giving her exactly what she wanted - soft, slow, teasing. She melted immediately, lips parting, body arching into me like a fucking invitation. I took control, biting her lower lip, deepening the kiss with a roughness that made her gasp.
I grabbed her hip hard, fingers digging in, and murmured, "Let's get out of here."
She nodded fast, breathless and needy, and I didn't give her a second to rethink it. I guided her through the writhing bodies toward the back of the club. Down the hall, past the stinking bathrooms, into the dark corridor where the music faded and shadows eat the light. It was secluded here - perfect. She followed without hesitation, clearly desperate for touch, for attention. I almost pitied her. Almost.
I pushed her against the wall the second we were alone, my mouth at her throat, biting, licking, tasting the salt of her sweat. She moaned, loud and shameless, and I laughed under my breath. My hand slid up her thigh, lifting her skirt without ceremony. Her thong's already soaked. I yanked it aside and shoved two fingers inside her without warning. She cried out, more surprised than hurt, her hands clutching my shoulders as she spread her legs wider for me.
I fingered her hard, fast, curling my digits just right until she was squirming, panting, her hips bucking against my hand like she was chasing something. I slammed my mouth over hers to shut her up, silencing her cries as my thumb circled her clit with brutal precision. She was soaking, dripping into my palm, her body jerking with every thrust of my hand. It was almost laughable how easily she succumbed.
Her moans filled the narrow space as I moved faster, hitting the right spots with practiced precision. She was lost in the pleasure, utterly oblivious to the real danger she was in. When she finally screamed in ecstasy, I let her ride the wave of her release, her body sagging against mine, spent and vulnerable. Her panties were still shoved to the side, her skirt bunched up around her waist.
She gazed up at me, her eyes dazed. "What's your name, sexy stranger?" she breathed.
I remain silent, staring down at her with an expression she's too far gone to decipher.
"Don't be shy," she pressed, her voice playful.
"Unfortunately, it doesn't matter to you," I said, my voice dripping with venom.
I smiled coldly, removing my hand from her pussy and taking it to her chest.
"Why wouldn't it," her sentence was cut short in the middle as she screamed in pain.
My hand shot, and I plunged it into her ribcage with one swift motion. Her scream was short-lived as I grabbed her heart, the warmth of her blood spreading over my skin. Her eyes went wide with shock, and a gurgling sound escaped her throat as blood dripped from the corner of her mouth. I kissed her one last time, savoring the taste of her final breath.
"Dear, didn't your mother ever tell you not to talk to strangers?" I whispered mockingly as she choked on her own blood.
With one final pull, I ripped her heart from her chest, the life draining from her eyes as her body crumpled to the floor. I stared at the still-beating organ in my hand, feeling nothing but satisfaction.
It's been too long since she screamed. The wolves will be here soon. No matter. I clicked my fingers, and in an instant, I vanished into thin air.
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7.1
The captain is dead to the world. And I'm the only one holding the kill switch.
Ethan Carter, the "Glacier of Silvercrest," was the most feared Alpha to ever step onto the ice. Now, he's nothing but a shell-a broken, comatose legend trapped in his own body.
My life? It was supposed to be simple. Graduate, survive the pack's bottom-tier status, and pay off my father's ruinous blood-debts. Instead, the pack elders handed me a contract soaked in cold, hard malice: I am the designated "Stabilizer." My only job is to touch him, scent him, and keep his wolf from flatlining.
I thought I was just a glorified nurse. I didn't realize the Alpha was listening.
When Ethan finally wakes, he isn't the hero the Kingdom of Valeria remembers. He's a starving predator with amber eyes that burn holes through my defenses and a temperament that makes the frost in the mansion seem warm. He hates the bargain, he hates the pack, and-most dangerously-he hates the way his scent turns wild whenever I'm near.
He wants me out of his sight. I want to be out of his reach.
But in a pack built on secrets, someone is still trying to finish the job they started on his life. Now, the man who wants me gone is the only one who can protect me. And as the rink turns into a battlefield, I'm realizing the most dangerous thing about the Alpha isn't his temper... it's the fact that once he claims a mate, he doesn't know how to let go.
Frozen hearts are meant to shatter. But in the fire of this pack, we're both going to burn.
7.2
I woke up in a lavish bedroom, only to find a man built like a god of war chained to my wall, glaring at me with pure, unadulterated hatred.
A glowing apparition appeared and told me I had died in a car crash and transmigrated into the body of Elara, a tyrant Luna. Worse, the chained man was Ryker, one of my six fated mates whom the original Elara had brutally tortured.
Because of her sadistic crimes-starving them, exiling them, and sending two of them on a suicide mission-my affinity with them was at negative five hundred. The apparition delivered my terrifying death sentence.
"In three days, at the Marking Ceremony, you will be killed by your six mates."
No matter what I did-freeing Ryker, sharing my food, or lifting their brother's exile-they viewed every act of kindness as a sick, twisted trap. They were just waiting for the punchline to my cruel joke, ready to expose me and end my life.
I was just a librarian who organized book clubs and paid my taxes. Why did the Goddess throw me into this doomed vessel to pay for a psychopath's blood debts? How was I supposed to survive when the men destined to love me were actively plotting to rip my throat out?
Cornered by their righteous fury, I realized playing defense wouldn't work. I grabbed a dagger, sliced my own palm over the ceremonial stone, and swore a blood oath to bring their missing brothers home-or initiate a soul-shattering Rejection Ceremony myself.
9.0
Isolde woke up in a freezing, ruined stone house with a splitting headache and only five percent of her life signs remaining.
Before she could even process the mechanical system voice in her head, a flood of violent memories slammed into her.
She had transmigrated into the body of a cruel noblewoman who mercilessly tortured her beastmen husbands with a barbed whip.
And right now, she was lying in a pool of her own blood, having been shoved against the stone floor by one of them.
Outside the rickety door, her husbands were coldly discussing her death.
"Just go in and finish her. One stab, and we're free."
"If she hit her head and died on her own, then it's an accident. We walk out of here as free males."
To test if she was faking her sudden amnesia, the snake beastman Dangelo even ground his heavy military boot into her injured hand, waiting for her to snap so he could legally end her.
She was poisoned, freezing, and entirely at the mercy of the men who deeply despised her.
She was bearing the deadly consequences of a monster she never was, with a red system warning of imminent death flashing in her mind.
But they didn't know the new Isolde had awakened a survival system and Life Magic.
She swore a blood oath to the Beast God to buy herself three months of time.
Then, she turned her sights to the dying wolf beastman chained in the shed, deciding to pull him back from hell to become her very first shield.
9.5
I woke up gasping from a nightmare of flames devouring Chandler Finch's estate, my body wrapped in burning curtains as I died alone.
But my eyes opened to silk sheets in his penthouse master bedroom. He was alive beside me, his cedarwood scent real. This was my second chance—I'd been reborn.
His phone buzzed: Eugenia Stewart's "emergency." Her security detail reported her refusing meals, unstable. Chandler bolted without a glance, rushing to her side.
I signed the brutal cohabitation contract binding me to him, but Temperance had planted birth control pills in the trash—a trap to frame me. Chandler found them, exploded in jealous rage, crushing the pills to dust. "No child unless it's mine," he growled, possessive fire in his eyes.
Brett, Eugenia's lapdog, stormed in later, accusing me of manipulation. I fired back: Chandler demanded my womb for his heir. Brett paled, fled to tattle.
Then the storm hit—power outage, locked on the terrace in pouring rain, freezing as Eugenia faked an asthma attack on Chandler's line, stealing his focus again. I hung up, huddled with a stray puppy, nearly dying from hypothermia.
He'd never believed me before—Eugenia's lies always won, dooming me to isolation and fire. Why did her every whimper trump my screams? How could he be so blind?
This time, reborn weeks before the inferno, I wouldn't beg. I'd play his game, shatter Eugenia's web, and make Chandler mine—before the flames returned.
9.4
I was lying in a sterile hospital room, dying of cancer, with only a fake infertility report to keep me company.
Right before my heart monitor flatlined, a stranger walked in and handed me a medical file.
He told me that my fiancé, Garret, had zero sperm viability. The baby my adoptive sister, Beryl, was carrying wasn't his.
When Beryl got pregnant years ago, my adoptive parents forced me to break my engagement and take the blame for being barren.
I was discarded by Garret, mocked by Beryl's triumphant smiles, and kicked out of the house.
I was left to rot alone in a hospital bed while they lived the perfect life stolen from me.
My entire existence had been a cage built on a single, disgusting lie.
The anger burned away my despair. Why was I the only one who didn't know?
Why did I let them use me as a maid and a shield for their filthy secrets?
As the darkness swallowed me, I prayed for just one more chance.
I opened my eyes to the sound of my adoptive mother yelling my name.
The calendar on the wall read March 15, 2019—the exact day they forced me to give up Garret.
This time, I didn't cry or beg.
"You want Beryl to have Garret? Fine," I told my shocked adoptive parents. "But I want a cash buyout, and we are legally severing this adoption."
Then, I set my sights on Douglass Ward—the stranger from the hospital room.
9.7
I am the Luna of the Blackwood Pack, but my Alpha mate, Ryker, has spent the last six years treating me like a placeholder while publicly pining for his ex, Faye.
When Faye's friends cornered my wolfless daughter and called her a defective embarrassment, I finally used my Luna authority to kick them out.
But instead of defending our child, Ryker stormed in and used his Alpha Command on me.
He forced me to my knees with his raw power, ordering me to apologize to the bullies who had just humiliated our daughter.
When I fought his crushing command and refused, his retaliation was swift and brutal.
He and his mother stripped me of my family's sacred heritage, the Moonpetal Grove, and gifted it to Faye as a reward.
They even tried to force a quack doctor on my daughter, telling me to just accept that she was broken.
The entire pack watched me lose everything, mocking me as the useless, rejected mate.
I had endured his coldness for years, but watching him sacrifice our daughter's safety and my family's legacy for his mistress was the final straw.
How could the Moon Goddess tie me to a man who would so easily destroy his own flesh and blood?
Instead of crying, I pulled out my mother's ancient grimoire and drafted a formal rejection of our mate bond.
And when a terrifyingly powerful, cloaked stranger suddenly appeared to save my daughter's life, carrying a familiar scent of ancient power, I knew my fate was changing.
This time, I wouldn't just walk away. I was going to burn their world to the ground.