PS You’re Intolerable

Gwen once believed love could change an Alpha’s heart but when betrayal almost cost her life while her mate ran to another’s side, something inside her died. Reborn as Astra Silverbane, she returns not as a Luna but as the Queen of Packs, with power that makes even Alphas tremble. When her former mate, Trent, faces her in the Supreme Capital, he finds no forgiveness only payback of every cruelty he once showed her as she becomes the storm that ends his reign and begins her own.

In a world where Alphas rule and Omegas obey, survival means staying unseen. Hagakure Sorahiko has mastered that art—quiet, careful, invisible. Until Miyamura Aronohai notices him. A powerful Alpha. A billion-yen empire. A man who gets what he wants. What starts as a simple secretarial job spirals into a dangerous game of dominance and desire. Each secret Sorahiko uncovers pulls him deeper into Aronohai’s orbit—where control feels like seduction, and surrender feels like fate. Because when an Alpha like Aronohai decides you’re his… there’s only one question left to ask: Will Sorahiko run, or will he burn? This is an MM omegaverse romance with dark themes such as; physical and mental abuse, torture, and dark thoughts…proceed with caution.

After Roman Archer and I broke up, he devoted himself to academic research. He had finally become successful. During a television interview, he looked just as confident and high-spirited as he had been back then. The host asked whom he most wanted to share this news with. After a brief silence, he called me. “Celeste, thank you for leaving me. My career is thriving now.” I smiled. “Congratulations, Mr. Roman.” He would never know that if I had not left, he would have died.

Two weeks before our wedding, Jonah Alston suddenly wants to postpone it. He says, "Sasha says she's having her first exhibition on that day. She'll be alone during the opening, and I'm worried she'll get stage fright. I have to help her. We're just going through the motions with the wedding, anyway. What does it matter whether it's a day earlier or later?" This isn't his first time postponing our wedding for Sasha Lester's sake, though. The first time he did it was because he claimed she missed having homecooked food after undergoing surgery. He'd flown abroad to care for her for two months. The second time was because he said she wanted to head into the mountains to get inspired. He'd gone with her out of concern for her safety. Now, this is the third time. I hang up and look at Austin Everett, my childhood sweetheart. He sits across from me, looking leisurely as he taps his emerald-embedded walking cane on the marble floor. I ask, "Do you need a wife?" On my wedding day, Sasha holds up her glass and waits for Jonah to clink it with his. However, his eyes are red as he watches a livestream—it's the wedding of the scion of Everett Group, the country's largest property development company.

“I promised to grab you closer to myself” Alex grabbed Vivian closer as he was talking, and Vivian placing her soft breast on his chest. “Kiss your soft and small lips” Alex kissed Vivian’s lower lips as he was talking; Vivian closed her eye and her heart breathing heavily. “Kiss you deeply still we feel that love between---“Vivian suddenly pushed him away with force and step back, looking at him and she didn’t really get herself. “What happened? Have you been lying to me all these while that you LOVE?” Alex said with loud voice. “No! No!! I love you and you know that” Vivian said with low voice and shaking. “Then this is the time to prove it to me, why don’t you want me to have that kiss that I have been waiting for so long----“ “I MARRIED TO YOUR BROTHER NOW” Vivian said with low voice as Alex was talking. ×××××××× Vivian and Alex had been an online lover for three years but all of a suddenly, Alex just disappeared from Vivian and turned to a ghost on social media. Five years later, two of them met each other physically and Alex turned out to be her husband’s brother. Alex wanted the love back and despite to take her from his brother at all cost.

My husband, Luca, had a childhood sweetheart named Sophia. Years ago, during a brutal gang shootout, Sophia shielded him from the worst of the bloodshed, and since then, she had suffered from severe PTSD. Because of that, Luca would push aside family business every year and fly to our estate on a secluded island off the coast of Sicily to spend three months “helping her recover.” “Victoria, she lost her mind because of me,” he told me. “I’m responsible for her. I hope you can be magnanimous.” So, I nodded. And eventually, I got used to the fact that every year, my husband would disappear for three months to fulfill what he called a moral obligation. That was until the day I flew in without warning to inspect the family’s money-laundering network on that island and saw him. In the town square, under the bright Mediterranean sun, Luca was standing there with a five-year-old boy by his side. “Papa, how long do we have to hide on this island?” the child asked. “I want to go to New York. I want to see the Empire State Building.” Luca laughed gently and scooped him up in his arms. With his other hand, he held Sophia’s. “Antonio, be good,” he said affectionately. “Papa’s position is… complicated. When you turn eighteen and pass the family’s initiation ceremony, I’ll kill that woman and her dead old man. Then, I’ll take you back to New York to inherit the entire Corleone family.” I stood in the shadows, unseen. Slowly, I lit a cigarette. The smoke curled around me as their voices drifted over, the conversation getting more vicious as it went. Sophia leaned into his chest, her tone sweet and coy. “Luca, I’ve been with you for seven years without a name or a title. How much longer are our son and I supposed to live like ghosts?” Luca sighed. “I don’t have a choice. The old man in the Corleone family is still alive. I married Victoria just to get her territory. Don’t worry. I’ve been adding something to her milk every day. She’ll never get pregnant in this lifetime. My family bloodline will only continue through you.” The last thread of reason in my mind snapped. In the six years of marriage we shared, I had been infertile. I’d taken countless hormone injections to stimulate ovulation. I’d knelt in church and prayed more times than I could count. Yet, all along, the devil poisoning me was my own husband. The initial shock faded quickly into rage. I crushed out my cigarette and pulled out my phone. Then, I dialed my uncle, the family’s clean-up man. “Uncle Rocco,” I said calmly, “Luca betrayed me. He betrayed the family. Order a coffin in the finest black walnut for me, and make it large, large enough to fit a family of three.”