Contos e Romances com Mate e Marriage

Lorenzo Blackwood called off the mating ceremony. The reason was that I had smiled at another male werewolf at the bonfire party. For the Alpha of the Moonlight Pack, his version of the silent treatment was almost laughably childish. He stopped bringing me with him and deliberately took his assistant Anna Reed's hand instead. He deliberately bid one million dollars on a ruby for Anna at an Imperial auction, then fastened it around her neck himself. He made a point of guiding Anna through hand-to-hand combat drills on the training ground, lingering far too close as he corrected her stance. He made a point of answering every word Anna said with endless patience while ignoring every look I sent him. I had already written the apology letter. "Lorenzo, I was wrong. I swear you're the only one I love. Please don't be mad anymore, okay?" I was on my way to apologize when I heard Anna laughing outside the door of Lorenzo's study. "You gave me the pack's heirloom moonstone pendant just to get under your mate's skin. "I don't mind playing along. Chloe always caves first anyway." I looked at the pendant sitting against her throat. That was the symbol of the Moonlight Pack's Luna. Calmly, I turned and walked away. Then I canceled everything, one item at a time: the ceremony venue, the banquet, and the officiating priest.

My mate, Ryan Carter, and I took in a young rogue Omega named Nina Reed, and I raised her myself. But once she grew up, she tried every trick she could think of to seduce Ryan. He said he would send her to another pack and never let her come back. Nina threw a fit and ran out of the house. During the argument, she shoved me down the stairs even though I was seven months pregnant. The fall left me badly injured. I lost the baby and had to undergo a hysterectomy. Ryan hated her deeply. He forced her into the pack's lowest rank, making her clean up after everyone, and even tied her up in the basement to torment her day and night. But when she pressed a poisoned silver blade to her own throat and offered me a life for a life, he panicked. He grabbed the blade, blood streaming between his fingers, and said in a voice hoarse with fear, "You don't have the right to die until you've given me another child to make up for the one we lost!" She threw herself into his arms, and this time Ryan stroked her hair gently with his clean left hand. I leaned against the wall outside the door as a violent pain tore through my heart. Once it passed, I mind-linked my older brother, Lucian Bennett, the Alpha who led our pack. "I need a different mate."

I'm six months pregnant when my cousin Hallie Thorne's mate dies. Worried that she has no one to look after her, my mate, Ragnar Clairmont, suggests she move in with us. I don't think twice before agreeing. The moment Hallie walks through the door and sees my pregnant belly, she bursts into tears. Ragnar pulls me aside and says quietly, "Try not to walk around showing off your pregnancy in front of her. Her mate just died before they could even have a pup. Don't rub it in her face." I feel sorry for her, so I agree. That night, Hallie spills dish soap by the kitchen door, causing me to slip and nearly lose my pup. I suspect that she does it on purpose and tell Ragnar. But he just looks at me with frustration. "The three of us grew up together. She would never do something like that. Pregnancy can make you paranoid. Stop assuming the worst of her." But later, while we're camping, she suddenly pushes me into the river before jumping in after me. Ragnar comes running when he hears the splash and immediately dives in to save us. I beg him to save me and our pup, but he swims right past me and gets Hallie to shore first. "She's just a fragile Omega. I need to make sure she's safe first. You're an Alpha. You can handle yourself. I'll go get help," Ragnar says. Under normal circumstances, I could easily swim to shore. But now that I'm pregnant, my body feels heavy and sluggish. I try to shout for Ragnar, but weeds wrap around my legs, and water closes over my mouth and nose. I hear approaching footsteps in the distance, but it's already too late.

My mate, Alex, had a childhood friend named Emily who was a healer. When she discovered that I was a highly sensitive person, she volunteered to put me through what she called 'desensitization therapy.' The first time, she told me I needed to learn to control my emotions, so she locked me in a noisy bar's storage room for an entire night. The second time, she said I needed to overcome my tactile sensitivity. She drenched me in ice-cold water and forced me to stand in the freezing wind for three hours. Alex was present every single time. Each time, he told her, "Thank you for all your hard work, Emily. I know how much you're doing for her." Then came the banquet, where she poured an entire vial of wolfsbane-laced potion into my champagne and announced that this would be my final desensitization therapy session. I clutched my swollen throat and collapsed to the floor. I couldn't speak or catch my breath. Alex merely frowned and said coldly, "Elena, this is for your own good. Just get through this one last session." Lying among the shattered glass, I closed my eyes and pressed the beacon badge I had never used before. When Dad finally burst through the doors, tears I'd held back for three years streamed down my face. It was time to end this.