40 Days Through The Bible

The Lycan King's summons reached all fifty-six packs across the Northern Territories — he was choosing a Luna for his heir. The heir's reputation for brutality preceded him. So my mother swapped my sister Freya's name for mine. Her voice left no room for argument. "Elsa, your sister's wolf spirit hasn't fully awakened yet. She can't survive the journey. Go in her place — enter the Luna Trials for her." She gripped my hand, tears sliding down her cheeks at just the right moment. "When it's over, your brother will come for you. I swear it on the Moon Goddess." In my past life, I believed that oath. I traveled to the Lycan King's fortress, only to be singled out by the heir himself. I barely escaped his stronghold alive, fleeing through blizzards for seven days and nights before I finally lost my pursuers. After two years as a rogue, I made it back to the Frostfang Pack — just in time to witness Freya's Marking Ceremony with the Alpha. My mother stood at the center of the celebration and looked straight through me. "Rogue. There is no place for you here." Cast out a second time, I lost all hope. I died in a blizzard, alone. When consciousness returned, I found myself standing in the stone hall again. She wore the same expression, watching me with those calculating eyes. "Elsa, would you take Freya's place in the Luna Trials?"

" It's a contract. You will be my groom, just for sixty days… ", her loud but annoying voice echoed in his ear. She sat at the edge of the table, " I will hire you to be my groom, and I'll pay you immediately after the contract is over. Don't ever refer to me as your wife, because nothing is binding the both of us together." " No sex. No love. No kisses. No feelings. You are just a hired groom for sixty days. Live your life the way you want it, but not for these sixty days ", she narrated further.

Far from the world of Earth lies a vast realm of ancient kingdoms, each striving for power, stability, and survival amid ever-shifting alliances and rivalries. Bound by tradition, these kingdoms practice a unique marriage ritual that determines political ties and future heirs. When alliances are to be strengthened, princes from friendly realms gather in a grand ceremonial arena, where a chosen princess demonstrates her abilities—speed, strength, magic, or flight—while the princes pursue. Her eventual capture symbolizes destiny, unity, and the merging of two royal bloodlines. For two days, the princess and her chosen prince remain secluded, honoring the sacred customs that seal their kingdom’s bond. Afterward, she returns to her homeland to undergo traditional examinations confirming whether the alliance has borne fruit. If so, she journeys to her prince’s kingdom to complete the remaining steps of the ritual and prepare for the future of both realms. Through these time-honored customs, kingdoms rise or fall, heirs are shaped, and political landscapes shift—each marriage carrying the power to redraw borders, forge unity, or ignite new conflicts in a world that forever hungers for expansion.

The operation had just gone dark when the chatter started in the comms. “Easy, Zane. Don’t burn through another mattress.” A low laugh came through the headset. Relaxed. Careless. “I’ve been deployed for six months. I needed the release. And don’t let my wife hear that.” More laughter. “Right. Take care of the little mistress first, then call home and play devoted husband?” My phone rang. His voice when I answered was warm. Intimate. Soft in a way it never was on the field. He said he missed me. Said he counted the days until he could come home. I watched the live drone feed while he said it. What he didn’t know was that three months ago, I had quietly transferred into the family’s Strategic Intelligence division. Every operation his crew ran, I was the one behind the monitors—tracking shipments, rerouting safehouses, intercepting rival signals, listening to every word spoken over secured lines. The first night he slept with her, I logged the timestamp. 00:43 hours. When the call ended, I dialed another number—encrypted, family internal. “I’ll accept your offer,” I said calmly. “After this job, I’m stepping away.” The voice on the other end was steady. Controlled. Powerful. “You’ll leave after the Palermo Capture,” he replied. “I’ll personally see to your relocation.” A pause. “Three days.”

When I'm on the verge of dying, the kidnapper who has kidnapped me calls my fiance, Connor Weston, who's also the youngest patrol officer in the pack. The call goes through, only for us to hear Connor's voice, which is filled with suppressed rage. "Sylvia Kline, I'll give you three seconds to stop bothering me. Vivian's initiation ceremony will take place at night three days later. If you dare pull off another one of your tricks again—" "Connor…" Blood gushes out of my mouth as soon as I open it. My voice is so hoarse that I don't sound like myself at all. "Save… me…" "Your acting's pretty good," Connor cuts me off, his tone filled with disdain. "Listen, if you dare skip out on the ceremony and embarrass me in front of the entire pack, you can forget about going home." After that, the line goes dead. In the end, I die from mutilation. It's fine, Connor. I can't go home for real this time.

It was our wedding anniversary when my husband's high school sweetheart posted a sonogram picture on her social media, with her captioning a public thank-you to my husband: [Thank you to the man who's been there for me for ten years, and for giving me a son.] The room spun, and anger surged through me as I quickly commented: [So, you're proud of being a homewrecker?] Almost immediately, my husband called, his voice full of rage. "How can you think such disgusting things? All I did was help her with IVF, fulfilling her dream of becoming a single mom. "And by the way, Ruby only needed one try to get pregnant, while you’ve been through three rounds with nothing. Your body is useless!" Just three days ago, he told me he was going abroad for business—ignoring my calls and messages the entire time. I thought he was just busy. However, it turned out he was with her, attending her prenatal checkup. Half an hour later, Ruby posted again, showing off a table full of delicious food. [I got tired of French food, so Ash made me all my favorite dishes. He’s the best!] I stared at the pregnancy test in my hand, the joy I had felt earlier now completely gone. After eight years of love and six years of swallowing my pride just to keep the marriage alive, I’m finally ready to let go.

Grey Monroe is given 60 days to pay back her debts. 60 days to free the only family she has. Desperately she turns to the quickest cash she knows; an underground gambling tournament. Harry Styles is constantly searching for the next cash grab. When he stumbles upon an underground gambling tournament, he knows he's found his newest scheme. That is until his path crosses with Grey. Despite their desperation to keep business and pleasure separate, they find themselves entangled with one another. A story of love, pain, tragedy, discovery, and deliverance.

The innocence and tenderness that Marylise transmitted through her beautiful blue orbs and her delicate body was too tempting and stormy for Styles' corrupted and tormented mind. There was something in that girl that made him go crazy. Although he knew perfectly well that it was not something right, his mind evoked the memory of him at every moment, turning with the passing of the days into a kind of dangerous and disturbing addiction. The age difference between the two of them was too much, but his desire and desire to have her was much greater. Her desire to make her hims was so intense that the mere fact that he couldn't do it was overwhelming. Until he came up with a magnificent idea. She needed money. He needed someone to teach him math. She was too skilled at solving operations. He was too good at other kinds of things. She will teach him mathematical formulas and universal calculus, while he will teach her how to be a woman. "You just have to accept" "Right, but what will I get in return?" "You teach me math, and I teach you other funnier things, little girl"

Three days before our wedding, my fiancé, Raphael Russo, was killed in a gang shootout. They didn't even find a body. As I was drowning in grief, comments suddenly flashed before my eyes: 【Wake up, girl! the coffin's empty! He faked his death! The scumbag ran off to be with that scheming bitch chloe, the one pretending to be sick!】 【While you're crying your eyes out at the funeral, Raphael is fucking Chloe’s brains out in a hotel bed.】 【When he comes back, he'll claim he has amnesia. You won't know a thing and you'll forgive him. You poor thing…】 A month later, news of my marriage to Mafia Don Marcello Falcone spread through New York. Raphael’s right-hand man cornered me, furious. “How could you betray the Boss?” I tightened my grip on Marcello’s arm and smiled. “A girl can’t mourn forever, can she? I’m sure Raphael, in spirit, would be happy for me.”

He died cold and forgotten in a boardroom, then woke up choking on palace bathwater while his stepsister tried to finish the job. Welcome to hell, new body. Jay is now Prince Jayvyn, the royal family’s shameful, “too soft” Omega. The one they expect to spread his legs beautifully and die quietly. Fuck that noise. Three days until the Mate Selection, Jay does the impossible: he forces open his first cultivation meridian in secret, howling through the white-hot pain like the rules of Omegas don’t apply to him anymore. Now the kingdom’s most terrifying Alpha—General Kael Thorne, all brutal muscle and centuries of restrained hunger is looking at him like he wants to devour him whole. Kael has never wanted an Omega. Until Jay shows up. Two Alphas think they can claim him. One rebellious body that’s starting to ache for more than just survival. He died powerless once. This time, he’s going to make them beg for every inch of him.