LOGINMINTHEGood Actor* * * My lips collide with his, and the entire world vanishes under a wave of chaotic heat.I intended for it to be a quick, petty smash of mouth against mouth—a bitter “fuck you” directed straight at Pierre’s arrogant face.But the second my lips touch Hades’, I lose complete control of the script.Hades doesn’t just sit there like a passive target.His hand shoots up, gloved fingers tangling into the hair at the back of my head. He grips my scalp with rough, commanding force, tilting my chin back until my throat is exposed.Before I can even register the gasp escaping my lungs, Hades slams his tongue past my parted lips.It isn’t a gentle kiss. It’s aggressive, filthy, and thorough.His other arm wraps around my waist like a steel band, lifting me off his lap just enough to crush my chest against his. He tastes like bitter liquor, tobacco, and danger. He takes my mouth with a possessive hunger that makes my head spin and my knees go soft.My heart hammers ag
MINTHELet The Show Begin* * * His breath hits the side of my neck, warm against my freezing skin.The scent of tobacco and sandalwood wipes out the stench of crushed roses and spilled blood on the altar floor.I don’t pull away. I can’t. My legs feel like wet concrete, my pulse hammering in my throat.“Your Highness,” I whisper, my voice barely carrying over the murmurs spreading through the hall. “I didn’t think you’d bother coming down from your precious throne just to play along with my mess.”Hades doesn’t loosen his grip on my waist. His gloved hand presses firm against my side, pinning me against his chest.“I don’t particularly enjoy watching my future Queen stand in the dirt while another man lays his hands on her,” he rumbles, his voice vibrating through my ribs.I tilt my chin up, staring into his unreadable eyes. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You know the deal, Your Highness. This is a strictly business transaction. A few months of pretending to be your candidate t
MINTHELuna Minthe is Dead* * * Lyria sits in a ruined heap of white silk on the altar carpet, her heel twisted under her dress.Tears spill over her eyelashes, pooling on her cheeks.She looks up at Pierre, reaching out a hand, expecting him to drop to his knees and scoop her up.“Pierre . . .” Lyria whimpers. “Pierre, help me . . . please . . .”Pierre doesn’t reach for her.He doesn’t even step down to check if her ankle is broken.He stands frozen on the altar steps, his skin drained of color. His chest heaves under his coat, his hands trembling so hard he has to clench them into fists. His eyes dart from Lyria’s face to the High Priest, then to the pillars wrapped in dried vines.“Lyria?!” Pierre stammers. “What . . . what the fuck?!”He turns toward the High Priest, teeth bared. “Father, what the hell is this?! Why were you marrying me to her?!”The hall explodes into frantic whispers.The elders lean into each other, murmuring in shock.Pack warriors along the perimeter shift
MINTHEThe Bride* * *The massive oak doors grind open on rusted iron hinges.The crowd of border lords and pack warriors lets out a collective gasp.The ceremonial drums drop into a low, thunderous rhythm—the heavy beat of the Ashbourne mating ritual echoing off the vaulted stone ceiling.Lyria steps through the threshold into the light.She moves slowly, head held high beneath the black lace veil, hands folded over the white silk dress I hand-stitched for her.Beneath the hem, her platform heels click against the crimson carpet with careful, rehearsed balance.At the far end of the hall, standing on the altar steps beside the High Priest, Pierre stands straight.His leather coat is immaculate. His golden hair is brushed back.He watches the bride approach with an arrogant, satisfied smirk.He thinks the woman in white is me.He thinks I finally gave in. He thinks I swallowed my pride, put on the bridal dress, and marched down the aisle to play the dutiful Beta mate he spent three y
MINTHEEnd of the Gamble* * * If you give a man three years of your life and he trades you in for his ex, the least you can do is make his wedding a total fucking crime scene.The vanity mirror in the west wing dressing room is speckled with frost, reflecting two women sitting side by side under the dim tallow light.On the left sits Lyria, staring at her reflection like a woman who just won the lottery.On the right sits me—calm, quiet, and playing the role of the ruined, pathetic Beta woman so well that even the pack’s head makeup artist looks at me with pity.“You really have such delicate features, Lady Minthe,” Sarah, the Omega makeup artist, murmurs softly as she strokes a soft dusting of powder across my cheekbones.Her hands tremble slightly. “You’re going to make a breathtaking bride today. Alpha Pierre is a lucky man.”I don’t correct her.I don’t break character for a single second.I just let a tiny, sad smile touch my lips, keeping my voice low and gentle.“Thank
MINTHETomorrow* * *Three days in a doomed webnovel is a long fucking time to watch your ex-fiancé fall in love with someone else.I swirl the wine in my glass, watching it coat the crystal before bringing it to my lips.Across the hall, Lyria is vibrating with frantic energy, barking orders at three terrified Omegas carrying candelabras. Her golden curls are pinned back, cheeks flushed pink.She looks like the perfect, hardworking bride.Which is ironic, considering everyone in this packhouse thinks she’s just an innocent guest being worked to the bone by a bitter villainess.“Your knight is wide open, Minthe,” Cassian mutters from across the marble table, not looking up from the board between us. He’s dressed in his servant tunic, eyes fixed on his rooks like an assassin calculating a hit.“Let him take it,” I say softly, taking another sip. “I’m playing the long game.”A few yards away, two maidservants pretend to dust the pillars. Their whispers carry across the hall.“Loo
MINTHEDanger* * *I smile at Pierre one last time. Then I turn around and walk out of the room.“Minthe,” Pierre calls sharply behind me. “Don’t start this.”My heels strike hard against the stone floor as I keep walking, one step, then another. My pulse pounds so violently I can hear it inside m
MINTHEI'm Tired* * *The mirror tells me I’m trapped in this world forever five seconds after the man I love admits he never stopped loving somebody else.Well, that feels personal.I stare at my reflection while the silver letters disappear one by one, fading into the glass until there’s nothing
MINTHEThe Last Delusion* * *Pierre tilts his head slightly. “You ask all men to become your mate this way?”“I usually bring flowers first.”His thumb shifts against my waist.Tiny movement.Tiny.But my pulse absolutely humiliates me over it.“You’re nervous,” he says quietly.“Obviously.”
MINTHEModern 2026* * *"FUCK THAT VILLAINESS!"The comments under the chapter are what finally piss me off.“Oh my God, Pierre deserves better but the Alpha King and Lyria are soulmates”“I’d choose Hades too.”“Minthe deserved to die anyway! Good riddance.”I stare at my phone screen in the dark







