Red Rising

He took her from a cult. He marked her as his possession. He never expected her silence to ruin him. Liana has lived her entire life inside a forbidden cult hidden in the mountains. Blind obedience. Sacred rituals. Absolute isolation. Until the night the world ends. A man they call The Blood King—feared mafia lord, known as The Red Serpent—slaughters the entire sect and takes her captive. Not for love. Not for ransom. But for the strange mark burned into her skin… a mark that can unlock a weapon older than the mafia itself. Liana becomes his prisoner, his leverage, his obsession. He is cold. He is merciless. He is everything she was raised to fear. But the more he breaks her world apart, the more he finds himself drawn to the girl who refuses to break. Because monsters don’t always kill you. Sometimes… they keep you.

“You’re a blank, John. A hollow shell. Do you really think I’d tie the future of the Card family to a man who can’t even manifest a drop of instinct?” Caleb’s voice was like a wire garrote, tightening around John’s throat. “Carl is the heir. You’re just the mistake we kept in the basement.” John Mark was the Syndicate’s golden prince—until his power never came. In a world where the Hale Mafia rules through raw, predatory instinct, being a "blank" is a death sentence. When his biological brother, Carl Cole, returns to claim his birthright, John isn't just pushed aside; he’s erased. His brothers look at him with loathing, his father treats him like a stain on the ledger, and his fiancé, Caleb Card, discards him for the new, powered heir. But the city is rotting. The Abyss King, Morcant, demands a soul to keep the shadows at bay. With nothing left to lose and fifteen days to live, John signs the Sacrifice Certificate in secret. He’ll give his life to save the family that hates him, paying back his debts in blood. He dons a red coat and a porcelain mask, becoming the nameless "Red Savior" the city worships—while by day, he is the "useless" son the Hales kick into the dirt. As the clock ticks toward the final jump, John discovers his power didn't vanish—it was stolen. Now, trapped in a house of vipers, John must decide: Does he reveal the truth and watch his family’s world burn, or does he leap into the dark to save the monsters who broke him? The Abyss is hungry. And the man they called a failure is the only one who can feed it.

War is coming, and this time it is more than personal. For generations, the Stormborn lineage has carried one story like a scar, the former Draconis destroyed their empire and left their bloodline in ruins. The Red Alpha grew up on that story. He was raised on it. Fed with it. Every lesson, every battle, every scar carved one belief into him, when the Draconis rises again, it must be put to death. But fate has a cruel sense of humor. Because the new Draconis is Lyra. She doesn’t fully understand what she is yet. She only knows she’s being hunted. Villages are being wiped out. Borders are closing. The wolf clan are preparing for open war. The vampire council is divided, each elder with their own hidden agenda. And somewhere deep within the forbidden forests lies a power that could either protect her or expose her. The Red Alpha knows more than he admits. He knows what the last Draconis did. He knows secrets about Lyra’s blood that even she doesn’t know. And he is not just preparing for battle. He is preparing revenge. As the Blood Eclipse approaches, alliances will begin to crack, previous betrayals will surface again, and the truth about the former Draconis will threaten everything. Because this isn’t just history repeating itself. This is unfinished hatred. And when Lyra finally steps into the fire, the world will learn whether she is their salvation... Or the final mistake.

She emerges from the ashes of her family and the pack's tragic demise... A beautiful, happy she-wolf who in an instant lost everything she has ever known, loved and cherished, trampled and killed by a devious enemy attack. From the blood and mangled flesh of her loved ones, a rage she has never known erupted and consumed her whole being allowing her to shift. The appearance of the supreme ferocious Red Wolf - the only one in existence! Shedding bloody tears, her heart in deep sorrow for she will be happy and content not being able to shift if it means she can have them back! When he learns what happened to her mate's pack, the emotionless Alpha King Lucian, the King of the Werewolves, for once feels devastation and fury he never felt before. He decided to come out from the shadows and leave everything behind to go to her. Boiling with uncontrollable jealousy, when some daring, bold wolves appear to covet what was always his, he informs her that she is his mate and the Luna of his pack. But will she acknowledge him when her soul and wolf are in tatters and clamoring for a bloodlust vengeance? He vowed to kill her adversaries and to keep her safe always from their enemies, but who would actually be doing the guarding? Let's check it out.

When Rowena Silverveil faints during her nuptial rite, Lord Darius Varian deems her weak and sells her to pay her father's debts. Shattered by betrayal and severed mate bond, she finds herself in the rugged fortress of the Western Clan, under the icy command of Thane Darkmoor. But as Rowena's touch begins to heal the wounded, and her dreams become evermore vivid, she soon discovers that she is the lost heir of an ancient clan in Eldoria. But certain powers do not want this truth to get out. With each step toward her true power, Rowena must decide either to hide in the shadows forever, or reclaim her birthright and mete vengeance upon those who wronged her, even if it costs her life and the lives of those she loves. The Red Luna rises. Her reckoning begins.

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.