Secret Love Short Stories & Alpha Face Slapping Novels

After five years of being mates with Eric Wheeler, the Alpha of the Lightchaser pack, I'm finally expecting the long-awaited heir. I'm overflowing with joy as I head to the Werewolf Alliance, thinking it's time to give Eric both these surprises together. Just as I'm about to complete the final claiming ceremony, one of the Elders from the Alliance exclaims in shock, "Ms. Gardner, the mark on you is a temporary one! Unfortunately, the secret treasure left by your parents cannot be inherited by the two of you. He… isn't your mate at all!" How can this be? We're clearly fated mates! I request to check the Alliance's mate registry. The name next to Eric's is unmistakably his childhood sweetheart's—Ella Howell. She's the daughter of the former Beta and someone whom the entire pack had expected Eric to marry before I appeared. I laugh absentmindedly. How great. Now, Eric is going to lose two things that are crucial to his life.

During our marking ceremony, the patrol leader of my arranged mate, Alpha Cassian Locke, asks me to swear in the name of the Moon Goddess before all the other werewolves. First, I shall not enter the Alpha's room without permission. Second, I shall not kiss the Alpha on any part of his body without permission. Third, I shall not do anything that may cause the Alpha to feel uneasy. The list goes on. Suppressing my anger, I listen as he recites all 188 vows in the oath. Then, I turn to the werewolf sitting on the side with an upright posture. "Alpha Cassian, could you please explain the 99th vow? What do you mean, I must raise your heir no matter whose pup they are?"

My dad, Frank Stanford, was an Alpha. I, Lana Stanford, was his only daughter. The year I turned eighteen, he told me to choose a mate from the nine werewolf warriors he had taken in. I avoided Simon Eaton, the one I used to be obsessed with. In my previous life, I was kidnapped by rogues on the very day of my marking ceremony. When they drove silver nails soaked in wolfsbane through my palms, I endured the agony and sent a desperate plea through our mind link. “Simon, help me.” All I got back was his cold response. “Lana Stanford, are you done yet? Is this another lame trick of yours? “You actually hurt yourself just to get me to come see you? You're disgusting.” I closed my eyes in despair. As the silver cage sank into the frozen lake, icy water filled my lungs. My wolf let out a final, broken cry and died with me. When I woke up again, I'd returned to the day my dad asked me to choose a mate. This time, the very first thing I did was cross Simon’s name off the list. Later, he stood in front of me with tearful eyes and asked why I hadn’t chosen him. I didn’t answer. I just looked at him strangely. “Simon, this time, I did exactly what you wanted. Why are you crying again?”