Romans & histoires Across Five Aprils Full Text

Declan Callahan knew the instant he saw her at school: Evie McCarthy was his. He claimed her with a sick obsession, married her, had a daughter—until the day he lost her forever. Or so he thought. Six years later, in the middle of her wedding to another man, Declan storms into New York Cathedral, snatches the bride from the altar, and throws her over his shoulder. Evie doesn't remember him. She doesn't remember anything. To her, he's just a dangerous stranger. But Declan doesn't care. He'll take her back to Dublin. He'll imprison her. He'll mark her. He'll make her remember—even if he has to break her to do it. Across the ocean, Harvey Prescott, the man who kept her trapped in a lie for five years, declares war. Two obsessed monsters. One woman. Between fragmented memories, toxic desire, and an attraction she can't control, Evie discovers the darkest truth: she doesn't want to choose. She wants both.

After the evening study session, I was just about to return to the dorm when my first boyfriend, the school's valedictorian and undisputed top student, suddenly tore across the courtyard toward me. Before I could react, he grabbed my wrist and, in full view of a crowd of stunned students, dragged me into a frantic run toward the front gates. I exclaimed, "Julian, have you lost your mind? Graduation's six months away. Are you really trying to run off with me now?" I struggled the whole way, twisting and pulling against him, but his grip never loosened. "Autumn, don't ask any questions. Just come with me. Hurry!" he said, his voice trembling with panic. We fled the school, jumped into a taxi in the middle of the night, and rushed to another city, where we checked into a rundown budget motel. Arms folded and brow furrowed, I glared at him. "So you hauled me out of school like a lunatic just to hole up in a cheap motel?" His cheeks turned bright red. He flailed his hands in frantic denial, then thrust a phone into my hands. I barely had time to unlock the phone and start dialing my parents before a breaking news alert flashed across the screen. My eyes locked on the screen, and I went rigid with shock. The headline reported, 'Mass Death at Blackwood High: All 5,000 students and faculty found dead last night after experiencing catastrophic bleeding. Only two students who skipped the study session survived.' I looked up at Julian in horror. He was staring at the screen too, his face white as paper, cold sweat running down his forehead. "You knew, didn't you?" I asked. "What the hell is going on?"

Mara Ashfield has been strong for everyone else her entire life. Raising her younger sister, juggling two jobs, keeping everything afloat on her own — she doesn’t have a moment for fate, and she certainly doesn’t believe in it. But fate doesn't consider your timetable. When her car breaks down on a dark rural road, and she inadvertently wanders into the wrong woods while looking for phone signal, she encounters Damien Voss — tall, cold, disturbingly intense, and not fully human. He’s the Alpha of the Coldridge Pack, a man who hasn’t let anyone close in three years. The last thing he needs is a mortal female walking into his domain reeking of rain and something that makes every buried instinct he owns wake up at once. What begins as a warning about something dangerous in the forest becomes something neither of them could have expected and can outrun. Because the danger isn't random — it had come after Mara in particular. And the why of that goes back twenty-three years to a father she never met, to a secret he died protecting, and to a wolf pack so powerful, and ruthless, that they would do anything to make certain that secret stayed buried for all eternity. Damien has been telling himself for three years that he doesn’t need anyone. Mara has spent her life telling herself the same thing. But then he looks at her across a room full of wolves and says she’s mine like it’s already written in blood. Claimed by a Cold Alpha is a slow burn werewolf romance about two stubborn, wounded people falling into something bigger than both of them – full with tension, danger, loyalty, and the kind of love that doesn’t ask permission.

Five years down the drain! Clair Green stares at the divorce papers in her hand. Never did she think she would be in this position. Then she thinks back over the last few months of her life with Mike—all the secret phone calls, the whispers in the dark and eventually the pictures that she was not supposed to see. At last, she could put a name to it all. Sienna Whitfield. In pain and ready to forget all of her trouble, she walks tall into the Banquet Hall. It is where the charity event will take place. Then she sees him - a man with so much authority, handsome and older—a man no one can miss. A man who walks like he owns the world, full of confidence. He walks up to her and talks to her, but when he introduces himself, she knows her desire for this man can never be fulfilled. The man who ignited the Flames of Desire in her is no one else but Damon Withfield. He is the uncle of her enemy. He is related to the woman who stole her husband. He is Sienna Whitfield's uncle!

The night before our wedding, my fiancee, Winona Yale, sleeps with her first love. He tells her he has cancer and wants to lose his virginity before he dies, and she agrees to fulfill his dying wish. Later that night, I, Liam Parker, receive photos of them together in bed. I laugh coldly and text back, "If she's that much of a saint, she's all yours." The next morning, I cancel the wedding and announce a party to celebrate staying single. Winona panics, showing up in her white dress with red-rimmed eyes. Her voice shakes as she sobs. "You don't want to marry me anymore?"

I, Darlene Cooley, have an ability. Whenever I touch an object, I can see the scenes it has experienced over the past day. I've been married for five years. Every time I help my husband, Bernard Hoffman, tidy up his suits or organize his briefcase, what I see are conference rooms, whiteboards, and workstations. Once in a while, I appear in those scenes. He'll be secretly reading my messages under his desk, the corners of his mouth lifting unconsciously. Bernard is so gentle that it feels almost unreal. In winter, he places my slippers by the heater to warm them up. No matter how busy his business trips are, he video calls me right on time. When I casually mention I feel like eating caramel popcorn, he drives halfway across the city to stand in line for it. My friends all say I'm blessed, and I feel the same way. That is, until yesterday, when he comes back from a trip. I go to help him unpack, and the moment I touch that gray cashmere sweater, a flood of images rushes in. Bernard is sitting across from a short-haired woman. Her eyes are bright, and a shallow dimple appears when she smiles. He listens to her speak, earnest and focused, with his head tilted slightly to one side. A faint smile lingers at the corner of his mouth. It's been a long time since he has listened to me speak like that. The vision ends. I crouch in front of the suitcase, my hand still resting on the cashmere sweater, unable to snap out of it for a long while. Then, I stand up and walk over to the cabinet, where I pull out my own suitcase.

I was halfway through a sad cafeteria lunch when a livestream popped up: [Ring toss—whoever lands it gets the dog.] Onscreen, Alverton University's rich-boy squad cracked up, betting on who'd "own" me. Adrian Locke, the student council golden boy, flicked his ring. It landed dead center on my nameplate. "One month. Let's see which owner the little bitch wags her tail for." I closed the stream. Right then, a text from my dad lit up my phone: [Sweetheart, have you chosen your fiancé candidate?] I smirked, snapped a screenshot of the stream, and sent it. [Evaluation complete. All four disqualified.]

Unmated. Wolfless. Orphan. A shame. That is what they call Elana Lancelot. On the night of her twenty-second birthday, beneath a full moon, she is humiliated and given an ultimatum by the Alpha. Seven days to find her mate. Or be given a fate worse than exile. She'd been rejected five times before,so she believed she didn't have a mate, just like she didn't have a wolf. On the night of the seventh day, her Fate is declared as the breeder of the Lord of Rogues, Cassian Thorne. But her fate changes thaf same night as a stranger walks in, and called her his mate. His name is Arden Atticus. But Arden is not what he seems. He is not from her world. He is from another realm, bound here by a curse. He trespassed in his realm so he was sentenced—He must love her. Not pretend. Not protect. Not guard. Love. And when the curse is fulfilled… he is free. But will she really escape her fate of being Cassian Thorne’s Breeder, especially when Arden killed Cassian's men just to prove a point?

I marry the comatose heir of Jebony's most affluent family for the ten million dollars in wedding gifts. In the year after the wedding, I undergo 12 rounds of IVF and finally give birth to the Larkin family's successor. When our son turns five, Jacob Larkin miraculously wakes up. The media goes wild, calling me the Larkin family's lucky star. They say I'll live a life of endless privilege. I merely smile—the first look Jacob gives me after waking up is one full of disdain. He even warns me icily, "You're nothing more than a woman my father paid to bear me an heir. Don't kid yourself that I'll ever fall for you! "I grew up with Angela. If not for that accident, you would never have become my wife." I hand him the divorce papers and say calmly, "I'll step aside, then. I'll give you and Ms. Lloyd what you want."

Through the bond that tied my wolf to his, I sent ninety-nine screams for help. The hundredth time, he answered—distant, distracted. "Seraphine, I'm occupied. Stop whining like a needy pup." I lay in an ice crevice, our pup suffocating in my womb, while he hunted beneath the full moon with another. Five days later, I woke in a healing den. Through the wall, I heard my mate—my Alpha—speaking of me like livestock. "Keep her under until Lysandra whelps," Leon growled to the shaman. "If she learns I drained our pup for that she-wolf's marrow, I'll have your tongue. And if you fail me—I'll burn your den to ash." I touched the mating mark burning on my throat and reached for the crystal. My voice didn't tremble. "Harris. Prepare the severance scroll. I want his signature before the moon wanes." The she-wolf who loved her Alpha died in that ravine. The one who clawed out will make him howl.