Aromatic Flesh

"Betrayal is a sin, flower," He murmured near my ears, his arctic orbs whisking the warmth of my flesh against his. A course of harrowing singeing fire drifted down my body from the swell of my breasts to my heated core. My nerves screaming with torturous touch of his skin against mine, I couldn’t think for he had me confine in his arms. Brutally, he swept his tongue under the rim of my ear whilst my breath hitched and my tears become uncontrollable. The blood seeped through the cut I gifted him with as he inflated every bit of my scent I had to offer. His filthy tongue leapt across my lower lip with hellish slowness. The bond tempted me to submit to him. "I do not yearn to hear your cries, Katarina. Worship me with your moans." He commanded and I closed my eyes tightly not wishing to swim in those ocean pools of his. Their intimidating tone of his made me want to submit fully to him, to hand over the reins of my soul in his fists. Tears streamed down my face. "F-Forgive me, Xerxes." I stammer softly unable to face his wrath for I knew he was just playing with me, toying with my emotions before he punish me for deeds I've done. Xerxes cruelly grasped my wrists whilst locking them above my head so he could fully discern my naked flesh. "Forgive you?" He mocked, his eyes holding mine into a captivating grip as he licked his lips. "You let another male touch what belonged to me, tell me, flower, why must you test me like this.” I gulped unable to meet his gaze. He chuckled dryly. “Spread your legs, Katarina. The nectar I’m craving is between your legs.”

Six years of marriage. All passion at night, but never tenderness in the daylight. Amelia Sinclair loved Christopher Zephyr deeply, and she swallowed the bitterness as if it were sweet. Her own daughter wasn't allowed to call him father, yet the son of his first love sat on his lap, learning to say the word "dad". The entire family treated that adopted boy as a precious heir, while her own flesh and blood was treated like a shameful stain. It wasn't until Amelia and her daughter paid with their lives—until Christopher signed the cremation papers with his own hand and then took the boy to attend his first love's welcome banquet—that Amelia finally understood. Love couldn't win love. A heartless man had no heart to give. When Amelia was reborn, she swore she would never again cling to that cold and humiliating marriage. In her past life, she had foolishly given up her studies, content to be a housewife and devote herself to her family. In this one, she submitted the divorce papers without hesitation, took her daughter far from the mire, and rebuilt her career until she stood at the top again. In the first week after Amelia left, Christopher dismissed it as one of her tantrums. By the first month, he brushed it off completely. It didn't matter to him what she did, so it was fine to let her go. Later on, he saw her again, standing tall among the industry's elite! Amelia was focused only on her career, and her daughter was focused only on finding herself a new father. And Christopher finally realized that they really didn't want him anymore. The man lost all reason. The one who had always been cold, proud, untouchable, suddenly threw away his dignity. He blocked the mother and daughter pair in full view of everyone, his voice breaking as he pleaded, "Honey, I'll kneel here if I have to. Please... just love me one more time."

At nine months pregnant, I was in the final stretch of my term, and my body heavy with a baby due any day. But my husband, Vito Falcone, underboss of the family, had locked me away. He held me in a sterile underground medical room and injected me with a labor suppressant. As I screamed in agony, he coldly told me to endure it. Because his brother's widow, Scarlett, was expected to go into labor at the exact same time. A blood oath he'd made with his late brother declared that the firstborn son would inherit the family's lucrative West Coast territory. "That inheritance belongs to Scarlett's child," he said. "With Daemon gone, she is utterly alone and destitute. You have my love, Alessia. All of it. I just need her to deliver safely. Then it's your turn." The drug was a constant, agonizing torment. I begged him to take me to a hospital. He grabbed me by the throat, forcing me to meet his icy gaze. "Stop the act! I know you're fine. You’re just trying to steal the inheritance." "To get ahead of Scarlett, you'll stop at nothing." My face was ashen. My body convulsed as I managed a desperate whisper. "The baby's coming. I don't care about the inheritance. I just love you, and I want our child to be born safely!" He sneered. "If you were really that innocent, if you had an ounce of love for me, you wouldn't have forced Scarlett to sign that prenup, waiving her child's inheritance rights." "Don't worry, I'll be back for you after she's given birth. you're carrying my own flesh and blood, after all." He kept a vigil outside Scarlett's delivery room all night. It was only after seeing the newborn in her arms that he remembered me. He finally sent his second in command, Marco, to release me. But when Marco finally called, his voice was shaking. "Boss... the missus and the baby... they're gone." In that moment, Vito Falcone shattered.

My mate, Andrew Claude, is the Alpha of the Celestial Pack, the sworn rival of my father’s Venus Pack. For three years, we have hidden our bond, knowing that our union could either bring peace between the packs or ignite war. On Lunar Year's Eve, beneath the full moon’s silver glow, we stand on the castle terrace, whispering promises of our future. Tonight, we finally agree to perform our bonding ritual, sealing our fates before revealing our love to our parents. My wolf stirs in anticipation, her instincts urging me toward him. But then, Andrew leaps down into the grand fire-dance festival, his powerful wolf form shifting mid-air before landing in a flourish. The scent of burning pine and roasted venison fills the air, warriors howling in celebration. The pack’s bonfire crackles with enchanted flames, casting shadows of prowling wolves against the towering stone walls. I watch from above, heart pounding with joy—until my smile fades. In the heart of the revelry, Carol Sinclair, an Omega maid, clutches a bundle of enchanted fireworks. Andrew strides to her, a warm, easy grin on his face. With a flick of his fingers, golden flames dance from his palms, sparking the firework in her hands. "A little fire magic to help you, Carol," he chuckles. She gasps in admiration, giggling as the firework ignites—only for it to spiral out of control. It veers wildly, the enchanted embers lashing through the air. Searing pain blooms across my arm. The stench of burning flesh fills my nose. I barely react before Carol bursts into tears and flees into the crowd. Before I can speak, Andrew turns on me, his golden eyes flashing with rage. The onlookers fall silent, ears twitching to catch their Alpha’s words. “Did you bully her, Bella?” His growl rumbles deep in his chest. “Just because you’re an Alpha’s heir doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want!” The warriors glance at each other, their tails stiff with tension. I stagger back, stunned. He doesn’t even ask if I’m hurt.