Lovesick Fool Short Stories & Novels

I was the daughter of the Blackwood Pack's Alpha, and my mate, Damien, was the Alpha heir of the neighboring Pack. We grew up together, and when we turned eighteen, our wolves recognized each other as mates. I thought I would be happy forever, until Damien rescued an Omega named Sarah at the border. She was beautiful, appearing as fragile and innocent as a doe. Two months later, Damien finally made his decision. "Elena, let's break the mate bond. My wolf might have chosen you, but that's just instinct. I’ve never actually loved you, Elena. You've always just been like a sister to me." In my past life, I cried until I fainted. My father, heartbroken for me, personally pressured the Shadowcrest elders. Ultimately, Damien was thrown into the dungeon and Sarah was exiled. However, Sarah was killed by rogue wolves on her way out of our territory. Damien remained despondent for six months. Eventually, through my patient companionship and care, he pulled himself together and marked me. But fifteen years later, as I lay in bed suffering from silver poisoning, Damien appeared before me holding Sarah’s hand. He personally injected the final dose of silver into my body, watching me struggle and die in agony. But when I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the year I turned eighteen. After my rebirth, I severed all ties with my Alpha mate, Damien. In my previous life, I had spent six months pushing myself through combat training I wasn't suited for just to attend the Alpha Academy with him, leaving my body covered in scars. This time, I tore up the admission offer and headed to the Royal Lycan Academy of Healing in Europe. Years later, I returned to the pack house for my marking ceremony with my second chance mate—the Alpha King, the most powerful werewolf in existence. Damien knelt outside the pack house, his eyes bloodshot. "Please, just give me another chance to love you..."

One of Ethan Sterling's closest friends got drunk and humiliated me. Called me a nobody orphan who married above her station, said I'd never be accepted by the Sterlings, that I wasn't fit to sit at their table. Ethan smashed a bottle over the man's head. He announced in front of everyone that if anyone ever disrespected me again, he'd make them pay. When I was pregnant and the morning sickness was so brutal I couldn't keep anything down, he went and scheduled a vasectomy. He didn't want me to suffer through another pregnancy. This was a man who loved me like I was his whole world. And yet — when I was lying on the operating table about to give birth, he was standing right in front of me with his arms around Iris, putting on a show for anyone watching. Iris was the daughter of another old-money family and she'd donated bone marrow to save Ethan's mother's life. The night before her own engagement, her fiance betrayed her, and the trauma wiped her memory clean. Now the only thing she knew for certain was that Ethan Sterling was her husband. In her world, I was the homewrecker — the scheming woman using the bastard in her belly to force her husband into a divorce. Ethan promised me it was all an act. Just repaying the debt for his mother's life. Once Iris recovered, he'd walk away from her immediately. But when I picked up the surgical consent form for him to sign, and his first instinct was to pull Iris behind him — to shield her — I knew. His heart had already drifted off course. The fairy tale of a Cinderella marrying into high society was over. Time to wake up.

The night before graduation, my best friend Sophie talked me into confessing to Lucas Sterling, the boy I'd secretly loved for three years. She said Lucas was at the basketball court, wearing a white T-shirt. I gathered every ounce of courage I had, grabbed the bouquet of roses, and rushed over. I came up behind a boy and covered his eyes with my hands. "Lucas, I've liked you for so long!" I felt his body go rigid. He turned around — and the face staring back at me was dangerously handsome, with a wild edge to his gaze. It was Dominic Blackwood. The one person at Westfield High that nobody dared to cross. I spun around to run, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me against his chest. He dipped his head, breathing in the scent of my hair, his voice rough and low. "What did you just say? That you like me?" "Say it again." "If you don't, I'll kiss you right here in front of the whole school."

Vampires only ever took one mate in their lifetime. And yet, my vampire husband refused to acknowledge me—his human wife, bound to him through an arranged marriage. On the night of our tenth wedding anniversary, Jason brought another woman into my bed. She was wearing my nightgown. She was carrying his child. And in my hand, I held a pregnancy test I'd just had confirmed. "Be reasonable, Elena. Jessica just conceived my child. She needs me." "Go sleep in the guest room. I'm sorry for the inconvenience." My husband shielded the other woman, his smile polished and gentlemanly, though his eyes held the same icy indifference they always did. When he saw me frozen in the doorway, Jason assumed I was going to do what I always did. Scream. Cry. Demand to know why he kept doing this to me. But he didn't know—this time was different. The ten-year contract had come due, and I was finally leaving him for good.

Three years of contract marriage, and Silas has been the picture of icy restraint — buttoning his shirts all the way to the top. Knowing he doesn't love me, I decide to stop lying to myself. But just as I'm about to flee with the divorce papers, I stumble upon a forum called Mischief & Mayhem. The pinned post screams in red letters: "URGENT! I'm actually an incubus. I've spent three years pretending to be cold and celibate so I won't scare my wife. But she just asked for a divorce and I can't hide it anymore... HELP: How do I win her back in 30 days without revealing what I am?" In the attached photo, a black heart-tipped tail is shamefully coiled around a suit trouser leg, its tip hooked around a tie. That tie — I bolt upright in bed. That's the limited-edition tie I gave Silas. My iceberg husband is secretly a lovesick male incubus?

Three days after my father’s death, I was home, planning his funeral. A woman and a group of bodyguards stormed in. She shoved me, hard. "Who the hell do you think you are?" she screamed. "Get out of my house! Now!" I froze, stunned. A new housekeeper? Maybe my brother Liam hired her. I kept my voice calm. "This house is mine. Liam knows that. If you have a problem, take it up with him." Her face twisted into a mask of rage. Then she slapped me. "Yours?" She scoffed, looking me up and down with disgust. "This is my boyfriend Liam's house. And you look like you don't belong here. I don't know if you're the new maid or the cook, but I don't care. Get the hell out. Now." My blood ran cold. I pulled out my phone and texted my assistant. [Tell Liam to get home and handle his girlfriend. Now. Or he won't see a dime of the family money.]

My daughter Mia's congenital heart condition had worsened. She desperately needed the one-of-a-kind miniature artificial heart I'd spent five years developing. The night before surgery, my wife Victoria stole it from the cold storage unit. I rushed to the hospital like a madman, only to find her at the bedside of her first love Dominic Forsythe's son, prepping him for surgery. "Mia can hold on for another six months. Dominic's son can't wait." "What kind of father are you, being this selfish?" Victoria stood there, righteous indignation written all over her face. I looked at my daughter lying in her hospital bed, barely clinging to life, and dialed the overseas number I'd refused a dozen times before. "Professor Ellsworth, this is Nathan Hartley." "I'll accept your offer. But I need you to arrange a medical transport—immediately—to bring my daughter to your facility. Her heart needs emergency intervention." I spent five years developing a life-saving heart for my daughter. Victoria stole it overnight and gave it to Dominic Forsythe’s son. “Mia can hold on for another six months. Dominic's son can't wait.” She had no idea I held all the core patents for that heart. That same night, I took my daughter aboard a medical jet and fled the country. The next time we met, you would be on your knees begging me.

Eight years ago, she sent the most dangerous man in New York to prison. Eight years later, he sat in a Cadillac parked by the Brooklyn Bridge, a cold smile on his face as he said, “A woman like you deserves to be alone.” No one knew she was sick with Alzheimer’s. It had gotten so bad that she could not even remember the way home. Yet, she remembered his face. She remembered every word he had ever said to her. She even remembered the star named “Christine.” On the first page of her diary, the same sentence was written over and over again. “Vincent Medici is the most important person in this world. No matter who I forget, I must never forget Vincent Medici.” She waited for him for eight years, but in the end, what she got was his indifference, news of his wedding, and him saying to her that someone like her did not deserve to be loved. She didn’t argue. Instead, on the last page of her diary, she quietly wrote, “That’s okay. I’m going to be with my mom now.” Amidst the five thousand streets in New York, he never found her again after that.

In the underground casino, my ex-fiancé Don Dante Castellano threw the card in my face. His arm was around Sabrina—his first love—and his eyes were ice as they shoved me toward the table. "Your father owed mine a life. The thing in your belly isn't mine." He pressed the card flat against my cheek. "The daughter pays the father's debt. Tonight you're the living chip on that table." The paternity test was fake. The child was his. I knew. He didn't believe me. That night, with a gun pointed at my head, I took off all my clothes in front of everyone. Two years passed. Two years later, in Vegas, he saw me again. I was in a red silk dress with a gold chain around my neck, the other end of the chain held by a yellow-toothed gambler. "This bitch is cheap. Bark for me, and all these chips are yours." I picked up the chips, practiced. "Woof. Woof." Sabrina pressed her face into his chest, covering her nose. "Dante. This is disgusting. Let's go." He didn't go. The veins rose along his temple. He was staring at the bruises on my knees. Then he kicked the gambler across the room. He bent down and took hold of my chin. Hard. "Sienna. Money, and you'll do anything at all?" He was close enough that I could smell him. Soap. Two years, and still the same soap. I closed my eyes, opened them, pulled my mouth into a smile for him. "That's right, boss. Pay up and I'll cooperate with whatever position you want. Care to buy a round?"

I was an ordinary mortal girl who lived at the foot of Mount Olympus. Caelum, King of the Gods, descended from the heavens for me once, transforming himself into a shower of gold. He took me to the peak of Olympus over every other god’s objection. He built a shrine on the mountain that belonged to me alone, every god on Olympus knew the same truth: I was the only mortal love of Caelum’s endless life. Then I gave birth to our daughter, Nia. The Fates declared her a cursed child whose existence would bring disaster to the gods, and Nia and I were sent back down to the small cottage at the foot of the mountain. Seraphina, Goddess of Flame, said she could help cleanse Nia of the curse, and with Caelum’s quiet consent she came every month and burned my daughter with divine fire. Nia screamed under that fire, sobbing for me . I ran into the temple to beg Caelum to stop it, and I found him in bed with Seraphina. The pure, holy Goddess of Flame was moaning beneath him. They threw me into the depths of Tartarus, where Seraphina handed me over to the Erinyes to be torn apart day after day. When Nia turned five, they finally let me out, but by then my Nia had been burned to ash. The day I was gathering her ashes, the message stone in my room suddenly lit up, and a projection flickered out of it: Caelum, as he had been five years ago. His eyes were full of joy and anticipation, and his voice was so gentle it almost made me believe time had folded back on itself. “Sweetheart, is it a boy or a girl? Did our child inherit my power?” In the projection his expression shifted, and the smile froze on his face. That was when the door of my room was pushed open, and the present-day Caelum, five years older than the man in the stone, strode inside. I turned the message stone around so the Caelum from five years ago could see Nia’s urn with his own eyes. “It’s a girl,” I said. “But she didn’t live long enough to inherit your power. She was burned to ash.”

I married my Don husband, Ethan Solas, because of a family arrangement. What he didn’t know was that I’d harbored a long crush on him. He, on the other hand, had never sparked any interest in me. Today marked our third anniversary. After our usual, mechanical lovemaking, Ethan rolled onto his back, leaving me staring at the ceiling. He always treated it like a duty, nothing more. Then a sudden, intrusive voice pierced my mind: “Did Vivian reach her climax? Did I do well? Is it too soon for a second round? Am I desperate? She smells so good…I just want to devour her.” I froze, eyes turned and locked on Ethan’s bare back. Had I imagined it? Or had my icy, distant husband just confessed his wild, obsessive desire for me?

My wife, Jolene Stephens, and I both cheated. The difference was that she chose to betray me while I had been made to cheat. She got me blackout drunk the same night her affair with Leon Homes came to light. Then, she stripped me naked and left me in a hotel room with a stranger. She posed my unconscious body in degrading positions and took photos to create evidence of my "affair." Both our cheating photos were exposed consecutively, and the public outrage against her little lover was offset. A huge wave of nausea rolled over me, making me dry-heave over the sink. My body was covered in red marks. The thought of what the stranger had done to me drove me to fits of terror. My wife watched as I scrubbed my skin until it split and bled before saying quietly, "I didn't have a choice. Leon's from a conservative family. It would destroy him if word got out that he was a homewrecker." The internet tore me apart overnight. My grandfather, Bruce Tillman, the only kin I had left, suffered a heart attack after seeing the news and was rushed into the emergency room. I had to protect her just to protect myself. So, I repeated the lie she needed me to tell under a wall of flashing cameras and microphones. "Neither of us cheated. Ms. Stephens and I had already separated long ago."

In order to save up money for my marital home, I go to great lengths to book five surgeries in order to treat my array of ailments and illnesses on the same day just so I can save up on the money meant for my painkillers. Because of that, I become a living legend in the hospital. But one day, I see my girlfriend, Jayne Atkinson, who's a penniless nobody like me, chatting with someone else in the VIP area of the hospital. For some reason, I decide to trail behind Jayne secretly. Jayne and her friends keep chatting with each other without a care in the world. "Why is it that rich women like you love acting in a drama where you fall in love with the commoner? Both you and Bianca do the same thing! Seriously, Jayne, when are you telling that guy the truth?" Jayne merely shrugs back. "Honestly speaking, Bianca is the only one who's ever fallen for Edison. The reason why I decided to date him is that I was worried that Bianca would break my childhood friend's heart by seeking Edison out." The answer leaves me rooted to the spot. My mind begins buzzing loudly. Bianca Lambert is my ex-girlfriend who has dumped me all of a sudden. Back then, everyone mocked me for punching above my weight and called me a pathetic loser trying to climb the social ladder. Bianca kicked me out of her life by dumping a glass of red wine onto me. Since then, I just want to be with a regular woman, whom I can spend the rest of my life with. Who would've thought that I've gotten tricked by another woman instead?

When Yasmin Smith comes to the courthouse to pick me up from work, she suddenly hands me a copy of her marriage certificate. "To tell you the truth, our marriage certificate is forged. I was just messing with you when I told you that I wanted to remarry you." Before I can register the news, Yasmin produces a brand new—and certified—copy of her other marriage certificate. She's already smiling bashfully. "Last night, Zach embraced me and kissed me throughout the night. It felt so good that I couldn't resist him at all. So, we ended up getting our marriage registered for real." I feel nothing but chills seeping through my pores thanks to Yasmin's second betrayal. As I stare at her in disbelief, I feel my voice starting to quiver. "Why?" "Because you're dumb." Yasmin chuckles lightly as she taps a finger on my face, which is starting to go pale. "Previously, it took you three years to find out about my affair with Zach. That's why I made another bet with him to see how long it'd take you to realize that I'm cheating on you again." My gaze lands on the hickey decorating her neck, which has yet to fade away. Then, she shrugs at me. "Zach thought that it'd take you one year. That's why I slipped up many times purposefully over the year. But I've already grown tired of acting, and yet you never picked up a single clue. "Today is the last day of the bet. I want Zach to win, so I have no choice but to come clean to you."

It was near the end of May when I got off my night shift and got a call from my younger self, right before the SAT. "Eight years from now, am I happy? Am I living abroad, or working at Collins Corporation? "Charlotte said I don't need the SAT. She's taking me overseas." He sounded excited, already planning to spend the next few days doing whatever he wanted. I looked down at the grease on my uniform. Behind me was a cramped factory dorm, a cramped room packed with 12 beds. "Charlotte's getting married today," I said. "But you're not the groom." He sucked in a breath. "That's impossible. She said she'd marry me." Last night, Charlotte Collins texted me. [Don't come tomorrow. You work at a factory. You'll embarrass me.] His voice caught. "Who is it? Do I know him?" I said calmly, "Open the math worksheet in your bag. Finish it, and I'll tell you who she's marrying."

I was super clingy, always trailing after my boyfriend, Nate, like a lost puppy, constantly craving more of his attention. Tonight as I snuggled in his arms, pressing soft kisses to his lips as usual, I suddenly saw translucent comments fleshing across my vision, one after another. "Hasn't she noticed our Nate, the male lead, is trying his best to avoid her?" "Nate hates physical contact, especially with her. She can't seriously think he's with her because he loves her, right?” "Relax. Nate's true love, the heroine, is about to appear. Once she does, he's going to dump this stupid bitch so hard." My heart skipped a beat. The next second, I pulled away from Nate's chest. Nate glanced down at me. Something that looked suspiciously like irritation flickered across his face. “What’s wrong?" he asked.

The day I turned eighteen, my father picked my birthday dinner to drop his bombshell: he'd fallen for someone else, and he wanted a divorce. Mom was about to flip the table. Then a stream of comments scrolled across my vision. [Don't make a scene! He's just a cheater. We don't even want him.] [Your mom's gorgeous. Play the sweet, doting type, win him over, and she'll walk away with most of his fortune. We're talking billions!] [Take the billions and enjoy the rest of your life. Beats rotting at home as some bitter ex-wife, doesn't it?] Following the comments, I clapped a hand over Mom's mouth and whispered: "Mom, stop! Dad's worth billions, we have to watch what we say!"

I fell in love with a mysterious stranger online. Morpheus. For three months, I’ve fallen asleep blushing at his blunt, dirty texts. "Can you feel how much I crave you, sweetie?" "I saw you in my dreams again last night. Writhing beneath me, screaming my name." I was finally ready to ask him to meet. Then he sent a photo. Just a casual shot of his desk. But right in the center sat an ancient book. Stamped on the cover was a crest I knew all too well: the Ouroboros of the Valerius vampire clan. And I happened to work at the exact museum where the Valerius clan stores their immortal relics. For three whole months, I had been sexting an immortal predator. A vampire who was probably watching me from the shadows every single day. While my brain was spinning, trying to piece together his face, my eyes landed on it. The custom blood-garnet signet ring I had helped "Morpheus" design... was currently gleaming on the finger of my boss, Alistair.

Seven years after my cursed exile, Ethan—the man who swore an oath to me on the River Styx—returned to his estate at the foot of Mount Olympus. And he brought his new girl. The Fates had finally given their verdict: the "Wither" curse on me was incurable. I had no choice but to return to the mortal realm and wait for my soul to fade. I only had three days left to live. When he saw me leaning weakly against the porch pillar, supported by my mother, his lips curled into a cold, ruthless smirk—a smirk that truly belonged to the Lord of the Underworld. "Well, Elara," his voice was low. "It seems living in the sunlight hasn't exactly made you glow." I calmly pulled my cashmere shawl tighter. I needed to hide the black, branch-like veins spreading across my arms from the curse. "It's nothing. Just caught a chill. My body isn't really listening to me." He let out a scornful scoff and wrapped his arm around his companion's waist. "In that case, why don't you be the witness for my mating ceremony with Sierra? Come and see what a real divine couple looks like." I kept my smile and shook my head. "No, thanks. I'm going somewhere far away soon. For an eternal date." With that, I gently patted my mother's arm, signaling her to help me leave.

When the heatwave apocalypse hit, the world turned into a literal oven. It was 140 degrees outside. The water dried up, and the power grid went completely dead. We had no choice but to make a run for the underground bunkers. Luckily, my boyfriend, Hudson, awakened ice powers. He is a man of few words, but he caters to my every whim. One day, I was being my usual spoiled self, begging him to waste his precious energy to make me some ice cream, when a sudden memory flooded my brain. It was a plotline. I realized I was living in a romance novel, and I was nothing but the useless, high-maintenance side character. All beauty, zero survival skills, and a constant burden to Hudson. According to the plot, he would eventually leave me behind, and I would die a gruesome death at the hands of some wasteland raiders. Meanwhile, Hudson would meet the REAL female lead—a woman as strong and capable as him. Terrified, I decided to pull away and stop weighing him down. But I didn't expect that the moment I distanced myself, Hudson would snatch the back of my neck, kissing me with a vicious, uncharted possessiveness. "Are you bored of me? Trying to shake me off?" he growled against my lips. "I'll never let that happen."