LOGINShe was the temptation they prayed against—and the salvation they didn’t see coming. The story centers on a woman who’s done playing nice. After a betrayal that shattered everything she thought she knew—marriage, motherhood, self-worth—she sheds her shame, steps into her desire, and discovers power in places she was once told were sinful. Her past doesn’t define her. Her pleasure doesn’t shame her. And she’s not asking for permission anymore.
View MoreFull moon of October 2023, at some point in the Tierra de Pinares forest, time: 03:00 in the morning...
The air thickened with a silence heavy with tragedy as Selene watched the scene before her in horror. Her beloved's body lay lifeless on the ground, surrounded by the darkness of the night and the cruelty of the rogues. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but her heart refused to believe what she saw. It couldn't be true. She couldn't accept that the man she was destined to spend eternity with, the one who had marked her soul under the moonlight, now lay cold and lifeless in front of her.
"Dexter, please, wake up. You can't leave me like this!" Selene pleaded, her voice breaking with anguish, but there was no response.
It was too late; Dexter was dead, and Selene's heart was shattered. From her mark, a watery red liquid, much like blood, began to ooze. Her body trembled terribly, and her heartbeats slowed to the point where she believed she too might die.
"Please..." she whispered again, taking her beloved's face in both hands before pressing her lips to his in one last fleeting kiss.
There was absolutely nothing that could be done. A harrowing scream escaped her lips, filling the forest with her pain. Denial seized her, wrapping her in a dark cloak of despair. Despite the overwhelming evidence, Selene clung to the fragile hope that it was all a nightmare from which she would soon awaken. She refused to accept that her destiny had been so cruelly snatched away, that the love she had found was as fleeting as a flash in the night. In her heart, the flame of resistance burned fiercely, challenging fate itself to take away what she loved most. No! The Moon Goddess could not have been so cruel to her.
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This is a work of fiction about werewolves.
All characters and events described in this novel are fictitious or used fictitiously for entertainment purposes. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental. All kinds of events are depicted here, so I recommend reading responsibly. If you are a fan of these kinds of stories, I invite you to stay and enjoy.Hello everyone, dear readers, thank you for being here again, sharing with me a new story. Here we will read about Selene Shadowfang, the daughter of Ragnar Shadowfang and Katrina Grimlore from the novel "Return of the Betrayed MATE". If you haven't read that novel yet, I recommend you go and do it before reading this one so you can understand many of the actions of the protagonists and events that will influence this plot.
With nothing else to add, I hope you enjoy it a lot, here you will find drama, romance, unexpected events, second chances, revenge, and lots of love.
Don't forget to leave your comments, it's always good to read them in order to improve every day.
Sending you lots of love and good vibes, LibethCa.
Callum lay awake in the dark, the ceiling above him a cold, blank canvas. The house breathed softly around him—faint creaks, the hum of the furnace, the occasional sigh of wind scraping along the eaves. But his mind was anything but still.He thought about Eden.About the way she had looked last night, curled on the couch, cardigan wrapped tight around her like armor. About the tremor in her voice when she pointed out the crow’s feather on the porch. About the message scrawled in the condensation on her car window. See you soon.That wasn’t just a threat. It was a promise.He pushed the blankets off, swung his legs to the floor, and stood. Outside, the world was silent, but his gut tightened as he stepped into the kitchen and flicked on the light. The glow illuminated a stack of papers Eden had left on the table — court documents, maps, and a worn folder with tabs labeled in Eden’s neat handwriting.He ran his fingers over the edge of the folder, but his thoughts were already outside,
The sound of rain woke her.Not the soft kind that lulled you back to sleep — this was sharp, needling against the windows, the gutters rattling with the rush. A branch scraped somewhere near the bedroom, an insistent fingernail dragging down the siding.Eden lay still, holding her breath. Sometimes she swore she could hear more than the weather — little changes in the air, like someone had stepped too close. She listened harder until her own heartbeat filled her ears.Beside her, the space was empty; Callum had stayed downstairs again. She rolled out of bed, pulling a sweatshirt over her tank top, bare feet whispering against the hall rug.The glow from the kitchen spilled into the hallway. Callum was at the table, laptop open, a legal pad covered in his tight handwriting. His shoulders hunched forward, his focus absolute.“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.“Didn’t want to.” His voice was rough from hours awake. He gestured toward the papers. “Security quotes. Cameras. Motion lights.”She
The house wouldn’t sleep.It breathed and creaked the way all old houses do, but tonight every sound felt sharper, like it was cutting through the dark to find her. The wind scraped along the siding, sighed through the eaves, and made the loose screen on the back porch door thrum like a heartbeat.Eden sat on the couch, cardigan pulled tight, one knee tucked under her. Callum was across from her in the armchair, still in jeans and boots, as if undressing for bed meant letting his guard down. His head was tipped back, eyes closed, but she knew he wasn’t asleep.Upstairs, a soft cough. Katie Faith.Eden pushed herself up and padded down the hall, careful to avoid the board that groaned when stepped on. She found Katie tangled in her blankets, hair sticking to her cheek. Eden smoothed it back and kissed her warm forehead. The little girl stirred but didn’t wake.“Go back to sleep, baby,” Eden whispered. She stayed there a moment longer, hand resting on that small rise and fall, grounding
The wind clawed at the house, rattling loose shingles and whispering through the cracks like it carried secrets.Eden sat at the kitchen table, court papers and maps spread before her like a battle plan. A half-full mug of coffee sat cooling by her elbow, untouched. The house wasn’t silent—it breathed, creaked, whispered—but every sound felt like a question she didn’t have an answer for.She stared at the manila folder in front of her. Not the one from the lawyer—no. This one was older. Worn edges. Tabs labeled in her neat, obsessive handwriting.It still smelled faintly of candle wax and old hymnals.August.She could see herself as she was then—his cologne on her pillow, his voicemail in her ear, and the heat of a Tennessee summer pressing against the windows like it wanted to listen in.“You’re such a good girl for me, baby. I wish she touched me like you do.”The words hadn’t detonated that day. They’d settled—slow and smoky—until her ribs felt like cinders and her stomach like so
EdenIt was quiet.Not just in the suite, but in her chest. Her bones. The way her breath moved in and out without catching anymore. It had been six days since the knock. Six days since Dusty. Six days since Callum stepped through her front door like a damn storm in a tailored suit and put himself
Eden didn’t knock.The driver opened the door to the private dining suite, and she walked in like she’d done it a hundred times—heels clicking against polished concrete, blazer dress hugging her like a second skin.It was black. Clean-cut. A satin lapel ran down the sharp neckline, open just enough
The boxes were loaded. The closet was empty. And yet Eden stood in the driveway staring at the front door like it still had something to say.The sun was just starting to set—casting a warm, honey-colored light over everything she wasn’t taking with her.She’d left the ring in the junk drawer.The
The drive felt longer than she remembered.Maybe because she wasn’t racing home anymore. There was no urgency in her chest, no voice reminding her to smile before walking through the front door. Just the hum of tires on asphalt, her hand loose on the wheel, and the steady ache in her shoulders that












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