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Him And These Three Goddesses

Author: Emarc
last update publish date: 2026-09-13 00:57:39
He stays away completely after our last exchange days back. He's vanished entirely from my classes, no longer trailing me through hallways or lurking along sidewalks.

I find myself feeling oddly anxious about it. My eyes keep involuntarily scanning campus, searching for any trace of him. Occasionally I sense his intense stare fixed on me somewhere. Sometimes that heavy, electric tension crackles through the air and I just know he's nearby, requiring genuine willpower not to glance around despe
Emarc

Drop comments and Reviews. Also for more information about the other Lycans Read Rejected by my mate, captured by a dominating Lycan King

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  • From Pack Slave to Lycan Princess   A Lost Pack

    My heart flips and my stomach twists when Julian strolls in with Caspian and Darius. The air crackles just from his presence. He's stealing the breath right out of my lungs. The pull between us is getting so strong I have to grip the edge of my seat to keep from launching myself into his arms. He looks fresh out of the shower, clean shaven, his shiny golden hair combed neatly back. He's wearing a cream shirt with a black striped tie and a russet vest under a black double-breasted peacoat, plus black designer jeans and dark brown leather boots. God, he's breathtaking. His eyes lock onto me instantly, and he crosses the room straight to me without a moment's hesitation. He doesn't spare a glance for anyone else, like the entitled, spoiled prince he is. He drags a chair right up beside mine and folds himself into it, his long leg pressed against mine. He takes my hand in his, and every nerve in my body lights up. His eyes are the green of fresh grass on a spring morning. I get lo

  • From Pack Slave to Lycan Princess   I'm a Monster Now

    "Where are the men?" I ask them. I've been wondering where Julian disappeared to. "They're with Lord Grayson in the conference room. Your cousins are in there too," Aurelia answers. "My cousins? You mean..." "Yeah, Corbin and Caleb are here," Livana says. "Caleb came with us from California. Corbin came back to the hotel with us last night. They were both worried about you." Worried about me? I was worried about them. I haven't seen Caleb in ages, and I'm glad both brothers made it here. "So what's happening today?" I ask. "Today we're heading back to Night Shade Pack," Aurelia answers grimly, and the other two nod along. "You don't have to go back there if you don't want to. We'd understand," Serena says, resting her hand over mine. "It must be hard for you." "No, I want to be there," I tell her. "Then we'll go as soon as the men are ready and we finish breakfast," Aurelia says, stealing yet more fries off my plate. "Are you okay?" Livana asks after a while. That'

  • From Pack Slave to Lycan Princess   A Marking Bet

    My chest ignites the second his scent reaches me on the wind. It floods through me, leaving me shivering with heat and anticipation. Old Mr. Thorne is close. Earlier, Lord Grayson had ordered the children and Corbin taken away. Corbin wasn't thrilled about it, but I'm grateful he isn't here to see this. Some people stayed behind while others retreated to the pack house. When they wheel the old man into the clearing, I can barely hold myself together. This vile man killed my Nana for his twisted agenda and sick pleasure. Because of him, I lost her. Everything turns the color of scarlet. He looks good in red, better than in any other color. Blood red suits him best. His body looks frail, but I know his mind is sharp and fully aware. Fear crosses his face as I stalk closer, dragging my tongue over my sharpened teeth and elongated canines. Footsteps scatter somewhere around me. The man pushing his wheelchair has already vanished. Thud, thud, thud... his heartbeat hammers harder. The

  • From Pack Slave to Lycan Princess   A Festival of Execution

    "Owww, watch the hand, buddy!" I complain as the guard hauls me roughly by the upper arm, up the squeaky steps out of the dungeon, er, holding cell, I mean. "You really need to learn to keep your hands to yourself," I tell him. I swear I felt his hand on my ass at some point back there. "Jerk!" I mutter. Corbin's shaking his head at me. I notice his guard isn't having nearly as rough a time as mine.Sure, I'm cranky, starving honestly, but that doesn't mean they need to manhandle me like this. "Trust me, I don't want to be down here either," I grumble. Really, all they'd need to do is unlock the doors, look away for two seconds, and I'd be gone before anyone noticed. Win-win, easiest job in the world.The guard pretends he can't hear me, still dragging me toward the basement door leading out to the pack house's massive backyard.He throws the door open with a loud bang, and suddenly everything's too much. Too much light, sound, smell, everything all at once, almost painful. My knees b

  • From Pack Slave to Lycan Princess   A Battle with Hunger

    Light streams in from outside as the door swings open, wooden stairs creaking under heavy footsteps. Alpha Thorne descends the stairs, trailed by Delta Roche and a burly guard. He walks straight to my cell without sparing Corbin a glance. Cold eyes locked entirely on me. Danger. Whatever this newly awakened part of me is, it's wide awake now, fully alert. Alpha Thorne's in his late twenties. Looks nothing like his father except for the hard eyes and that same cruel way of ruling the pack. His father used to look at me with lust; Alpha Thorne's expression usually sits somewhere between mild irritation on his better days and something closer to hatred on the rest. I think he despises how badly I fail at following orders, how I'm apparently too stupid to feel proper submission toward his authority like everyone else in this pack manages. Love definitely isn't what's radiating off him right now. He's furious. His eyes flash like he's a hair's breadth from phasing to tear me apart. But

  • From Pack Slave to Lycan Princess   A Podunk Town

    It seems like the whole house has erupted into chaos. The old man's at my feet, writhing, screaming in agony. Blood froths from his mouth, pours from his nose and ears. Every so often the screaming cuts into violent coughing, more blood sputtering out.Outside, footsteps pound, frantic voices demanding the door open, fists hammering against it relentlessly.The bleeding from my neck has stopped, but my white gown is soaked crimson now. I look like I just walked straight out of a horror movie.Honestly, I don't fully get it. One second I was screaming in agony because the old fool was tearing into my neck trying to mark me, hurt so badly I saw pure red. The next, he's the one on the floor, bringing the house down with his own screaming. Shouldn't I be the one doing that? Such a diva.Outside, the pounding intensifies, the yelling growing louder, demanding entry. Yeah, no thanks. I'd much rather keep watching him thrash and claw at his own throat like he's trying to rip it open himself.

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