Plot Twists Short Stories & Childhood Sweethearts Love after Marriage Novels

The news spread quickly—my mate, David Jonson, had been promoted to Tactical Analyst and was heading to Texline to take on a new assignment. He proudly shared the news with every member of the pack—everyone except me, his mate. I was the only one he hid the truth from. Why? Because in his eyes, I wasn't a smart mate. My wolf had been badly damaged in the past, so I had a poor memory and I tended to be clingy constantly, something he looked down on with disdain. "I'm really grateful to my best friend, Commander Johnson, who governs in Texas, for recommending me so I could get this promotion." I overheard him say to someone. "As for Pearl? That clingy she-wolf who follows me everywhere—there's no need to tell her. She'll come to Texline looking for me anyway." Hearing his words, I was excited—finally, a chance to prove I had a sharp memory after all. I stormed to my room and began packing my clothes. David had always made decisions without me, often leaving me behind. But this time, I would leave first. I would get to Texline before him, and when he arrived to find me already there, he'd be shocked at how clever I could be. But the next day, when I arrived at the airport, my confidence crumbled. I stood at the counter, suddenly blank. I couldn't remember where I was supposed to go—Texline, Texas, or Tennessee? My damaged memory failed me again. The last flight to Texas was about to depart, and the impatient airport staff didn't want to wait for me. She rolled her eyes and was about to close the gate. Worried I might miss the flight, I gave her a pleading smile and said, "Texas, Miss. I'm going to Texas."

After my parents died in battle saving the Alpha, Theron Blackwood, the Blackmane Pack took me in as an orphan. To repay them for saving his life, Alpha Theron laid down a rule: whoever became my mate would be the next Alpha. Growing up, I always believed that person would be Damian Blackwood. He was Alpha Theron's chosen heir and the man who had pulled me away from Redfang's silver blades twelve years earlier. I loved him, loved him enough to believe him without question, no matter what he said or did. But on the night of the blood moon, when the groom who looked exactly like Damian pushed back his hood, I instinctively reached for the mole at the corner of his eye. The ink wasn't dry yet. The mole smeared. I froze, realizing that the man at the altar, the man who had just exchanged vows with me, was not Damian. He was Damian's youngest uncle, Adrian Blackwood, identical to him except for the missing mole at the corner of his eye. Damian had thrown our mating contract, and me, to someone else. He was certain I loved him more than life itself, certain he could switch everything back before long. But this time, I was done bending to his will. So the first thing I did that night was wipe away the painted mole, along with twelve years of love.

The night before the bride-selection ceremony, my best friend was having sex with my childhood friend in the most sacred underground chapel. "You're getting married tomorrow... and I'm just a stray from the slums. How could I ever be worthy of you?" Chloe said, her voice thick with tears. Victor Moretti pulled her closer into his arms. "Isn't what we're doing here proof enough of how I feel? Relax. I've already rigged tomorrow's draw. God will choose you, and only you." "But will your family accept me? Everyone knows Elia is your fiancee. Tomorrow's ceremony is just a formality..." "A formality?" He scoffed. "She doesn't even deserve the effort of me going through the motions. My wife is whoever I say she is." I stood behind the door, my nails digging deep into my palms until the sharp sting kept me alert. I used to think we were each other's rock. But from the beginning, I had been the only one who felt that way. Victor, if tomorrow's ceremony is nothing but a show you can rig however you please, I'm done playing my part. Seven days later, I walked toward the wedding car in my gown. Victor charged toward me like a man possessed, clinging to the car door as he screamed, "Elia, don't marry him! I love you..." I slapped him hard across the face and enunciated every word. "From now on, call me Aunt Elia."