An Unscented Trace

Yana meets my eyes then, and I see a passionate light in her eyes that I haven’t seen before. Slowly, she takes my hands and puts them on her shoulders. My palms graze her skin, sending shockwaves of pleasure through every cell of my body. “What are you doing?” I ask in a low voice. “Making sure it’s real.” She meets my eyes, letting my hands roam to her arms and to her waist. “I don’t repel you, like you said. It’s meant to be. And for that I need you to touch me.” The heat between us is getting more and more intense. She puts her hands on top of mine and let my touch wander to her hips. I trace her hip bones with my thumbs, watching as the light in her eyes dim into something more mature. Darker and more primitive. Lust. Desire. “Does it feel like I’m repelling you?” she asks. “No.” I pull her closer to me. “It feels like you’re inviting me, telling me to make you mine.” *** Desperate times call for desperate measures. And a desperate measure is what Yana Allard is seeking to save her small jewelry business. When she gets a chance to get an audience with one of the biggest holdings companies in Los Angeles, she grabs it by the neck and refuses to let go. Only to end up at the mercy of the cruel bachelor CEO, Mikhail Sartori, who has an offer she couldn't resist. But what happens if she discovers that he's not just the leader of an empire, but a King to a race of Lycans? And what happens when he finds out that she can command and control his destructive, monstrous side aimed to harm humans like her?

Alpha Karl Baron 30 years old leaves his Pack with no trace after he was set to marry a woman whom his family had chosen from birth. They had both been betrothed but never met in real life although gifts were being sent to the female renowned family. Karl is considered one of the ruthless and arrogant Alphas after the reign of his father who passed on two years ago. Naya/Avery a 26-year-old woman betrothed to the Beowulf Alpha goes out to have a clear mind because she had to come to terms with the da t that she had to marry a man she had never met before. Instead of resting, she ends up in a mysterious part of the forest which leads her to have Amnesia as she couldn't remember when or how she got to this place. She couldn't remember her name. Karl also wakes up by her side and becomes smitten with her beautiful features he tends to her wounds and when she wakes she couldn't remember her name hence he begins to call her Avery for the time being. His Pack elders send out a search party and once he is found, he tells them if they didn't take Avery with him he wasn't going anywhere. Of course, he knew he was needed at the Pack hence they had no choice but to let him have his way and bring her back to the Pack until she regains her memory to return home to her people. Unfortunately when they return the betrothed girl couldn't be found so the next substitute was a female from another renowned family even after Karl lets the elders know he wanted Naya they couldn't accept because her background wasn't known and commoners could not be associated with the pack family.

TRIGGER WARNING 🔞 This novel contains mature themes intended for ADULT READERS ONLY. Future chapters will include explicit sexual content, graphic erotic scenes, and explicit dialogue that may not be suitable for all audiences. Lights off. Masks on. Rules carved in stone. In a world where love is nothing two broken souls make a pact of pleasure only. No love allowed. Purple Hearts has learned the hard way that love destroys everything it touches. Echo Reid knows love is a lie. Scarred by a past he can’t outrun, For him, intimacy is just a game—a way to numb the pain that never truly fades. “Spread your legs, my sweet Purple,” he groans against her skin, his voice dark “Please…” she begs, her nails digging into his back as pride dissolving “Please what?” he teases, dark and dangerous. “I want you inside me,” she rasps, sweat beading on her forehead as she surrenders to the stranger who makes her feel more alive. His lips trace paths of fire across her body, sending jolts of unfamiliar ecstasy through her veins. But when her hands fly to his face, almost tearing away the mask that hides him from her, he pulls back—cold, sharp, unforgiving. “Sweet Purple,” he says, a smile playing at his lips, “remember the rules.” Before she can apologize, he’s gone—vanishing into the shadows as if he was never there at all, leaving her alone in the silence. “Until we meet again.” But what happens when the masks start to slip? When the lines between pleasure and pain blur? When two people who swore they’d never love again find themselves craving more than just a moment in the dark? Is love truly a tragedy… or could it be the only thing that can save them both?

I fought my sister, Anna, for two lifetimes to become the Donna. In my first life, I got what I wanted. I became Lorenzo's woman. People said he loved me as if I were the air in his lungs. When he learned that I loved to dance, he bought an entire ballet company to keep me onstage. Then he broke my legs. He confined me to a wheelchair and displayed me like an ornament. One day, he brushed his fingers across my face and finally told me the truth. "I've seen enough dancing," he said. "And the one I truly love was never you." I died in that room, swallowed by despair. In my second life, I stepped aside and gave the Donna's seat to Anna. "You go," I told her. "The one Lorenzo really loves is you." I believed that choice would save us. I believed Anna would have the happy ending I never did. Five years later, they sent her back. Her legs were intact this time, but she couldn’t move them either. Lorenzo no longer treated her as a person. He had turned her into a ballerina statue, encased in plaster and posed at what he called her most beautiful moment, frozen in place. His men delivered the message without a trace of feeling. "He got tired of watching the younger sister dance," they said. "So he preserved her at her most beautiful." When I opened my eyes again, I found myself in my third life. Once more, the Don's men delivered a ballet invitation. Anna and I stared at it. The same question burned in both of us. If neither of us was the one he loved, then who was Lorenzo really watching?

"I thought I was his wife. To him, I was just a placeholder for the woman he actually loved." For three years, Evelyn lived as a ghost. To the world, she was the penniless orphan who hit the jackpot by marrying the cold, ruthless billionaire Caleb Knight. She played the part of the perfect, drab wallflower, cooking his favorite meals, enduring his family’s sneers, and secretly using her hidden Sterling Empire connections to save his company from the brink of bankruptcy. But on their third anniversary, the fairy tale shattered. Instead of a gift, Caleb handed her divorce papers. "Seraphina is back," he said, his voice as cold as ice Humiliated and discarded, Evelyn signs the papers and vanishes without a trace, leaving behind a positive pregnancy test in the trash, a secret Caleb wasn't worth knowing. Two years later, Caleb Knight’s "luck" has run out. His empire is bleeding, and his only hope is a merger with the mysterious, untouchable Sterling Global Group. Gone is the shy, plain girl in the $10 dress. Standing there in couture diamonds, flanked by three of the world's most powerful men, is his ex-wife. She is radiant, she is powerful, and she returns with a little boy who looks just like him and a girl who shares her aura. "Evelyn?" Caleb gasps, falling to his knees. "I... I’ve been looking for you. Please, come home." She steps over his hand as if he were a piece of trash. "I’m sorry, Mr. Knight,"she purrs, her voice dripping with lethal indifference. "The wallflower you threw away is dead. This is the Empress speaking and she finds you quite... boring." He broke her heart. Now, she’s going to break his empire!

Aria's life was chillingly quiet until a True Mate came along in the form of Relaz. He was noisy, extremely talkative, and especially annoying. Once allowed, there was no end to his gabbling. But when Aria realizes that Relaz is more than he seems, much more than just a carefree, always smiling and talkative man, he is something much more ruthless, will their relationship be put in jeopardy or will they try to work together irrespective of their misunderstandings and solve a puzzle, when they realize that the people around them are planning their destruction? Teaser... " You aren't my Relaz. That's right. I should get lost? Then no problem. All this while, you've been seeing me as nothing more than baggage, an extra load, right?" "I-i" Relaz stuttered. But he still didn't end up saying anything nor did he turn to look back at her. Aria laughed mockingly, "You're right. I'm so stupid. How could I have blamed the mood goddess all this while when she had given me such a treasure like Relaz as my mate. Now that he is no longer here, nor can I see the ghost of him, I've realized, how much the moon goddess had loved me. But it's a pity, I'm so stupid. Stupid, stupid..." She raised her hands and started slapping her cheeks with each 'stupid' she said and backed away slowly with tears on her face, desperately hoping that she could see the trace of the mate who once held, and loved her like no other. It was a pity she left too early and didn't manage to capture the tear that had managed to escape his tightly closed eyes, nor did she see the cold expression he wore all along, cracking and revealing immense grief. For what is love? Pain. Sacrifice.

“Your body belongs to me, Kitten.” He rasped out, cold index finger reaching out to trace over my fluttering pulse. I took an hesitant step backwards, but he took one forward, closing in on me even further and making my breath hitch. “Say it.” I gulped and averted my gaze instead, clutching on my towel harder. His grip on my chin was firm as he tipped my head upwards. I trembled in immense fear. “My b- body belongs to you.” I stuttered shakily, and a dark grin broke out on his face, making my blood run colder. “That’s right. Now, take this off. I don’t think we’ll be needing this tonight.” —— When an underboss’ territory gets raided and his wife and eldest son gets captured, what better way to rectify the situation than to seek help from the most popular Mafia Don in Italy and give his only daughter away in exchange for said help. Catherine has a deep rooted fear of men, and had secretly planned on eloping before she comes of age in which her hand would be given out in marriage, but when the unexpected happened and she had to be the sacrificial lamb, she knew her entire life was doomed. Damien’s was cold, ruthless and emotionless. He had no idea of what to do with his new wife who trembled around him like a lost kitten– but, he knew he could never let her go. Ever since he set his eyes on her and saw the tears running down her flushed cheeks, he knew he had to have her, protect her and keep her all to himself. That might just be hard to do, since danger was never, ever far away from him.

Eric Clapton never expected his ex-wife would move on overnight, and be living her best life. His friends have always mocked him for marrying such an ugly woman. When his mistress showed up, he couldn't exercise the smallest patience to stay married to Liana. "My mind is made up, Liana. Let's get a divorce. $90 million and the penthouse in Rochester will be compensation for your mental damage. Is that enough?" Eric put down the envelope and pen on the pillow beside her. Liana sat up, eyes glued to the man she has dedicated three years of her life to. "Is that all you have to say and offer?" She asked, her eyes holding a trace of detachment. Eric was stuck in thoughts. This was unlike the fragile and indecisive woman he married. Liana smiled as she gazed at his unreadable expression. "I can see you're really prepared for this, you know. This is obviously the first time in three years since you returned home before 11:00 pm, Eric." She added, her lips curling up into an enigmatic smile as she decisively scribbled her signature on the papers. The next morning at the courthouse, she held the divorce papers, her fragile heart tearing apart as she watched her ex husband smiling when he walked away, his hands carefully wrapped around another woman's waist while they strode to his car. Seeing him replace her so quickly was really heart wrenching, but right there, she saw another man who just got dumbed by his fiancee at the crucial hour, and without hesitation, she walked up to him and proposed to replace his fiancee. Now, what will Eric do when at the moment of his regret, he realised that she didn't only move on, but she's now his boss's wife?

"After hiding from me for three years, I've finally found you," I say to her, my eyes scanning her from head to toe. "I wasn't hiding. I was simply living my life without you," she scoffs at me, crossing her arms. "It doesn't matter anyway, because here you are now. You look beautiful." "Mr Partridge, I'd appreciate it if we kept things between us strictly professional." There she goes again, calling me by my last name, which was once her own. "We're not working right now. Let's just talk." "Mr Partridge, have a good evening." As she walks away, I'm so captivated by her confidence that I only stand in place and watch her the entire time. I see no trace of the vulnerable woman who was once my wife. Not only is she bold and beautiful, but she hates me. ~~~ Three months after her miscarriage, Layla is served divorce papers by her billionaire husband, Nathan. He wants her to leave because he's reconnected with the girl of his dreams. This leaves Layla shattered and no amount of begging can make him change his mind. Though she starts from scratch in a new town, they meet again three years later. He's now her new boss and this time, he's desperate to win her back With only a thirst for revenge in her heart and a new man in her life who's also a billionaire, is there even the slightest possibility of Nathan getting a second chance to make things right with her? Or is he too late and will live the rest of his life wishing he should've cherished her?

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.