Awakening Earth Novels & Stories

In my last life, I loved my brother’s best friend longer than I loved myself. I was the princess of the De Luca family, a New York political dynasty. A good girl, through and through. He was Orion Corvo. The king of Chicago's underworld. A ruthless, brutal man. No one thought we belonged together. I never dared to confess. Not until I was kidnapped. That cold-blooded, savage Don took a bullet for me. He shielded me with his body as I bled out. We died together. Only then, seeing the desperation in his eyes, did I understand. He loved me too. Now, I'm back. 18 again. I ditched my life in Europe to stay by his side. For five years, I was his most trusted art appraiser. In private, he’d lose himself inside me. He fucked me like he wanted to own my soul. I became his favorite fuck. His biggest secret. But now, he’s getting married. And the bride isn't me.

Everyone knew Elio Carbone, Don of the Carbone family, was a cold-hearted womanizer. He had one rule: never sleep with the same woman twice. But for me, he broke it. The first day after our breakup, he stood outside the old Bianchi estate for a day and a night, his entire security detail in tow, just to win me back. The second day, he flew to Sicily and bought the deed to my family's ancestral estate at auction for triple its value, and had it delivered to me. The third day, he tattooed my favorite flower, the lily, over his heart. The tattoo artist said he refused any anesthetic and didn't make a sound. Later, at a banquet for the Five Families, in front of all the other Dons, he sliced his palm and made a blood oath. He swore loyalty only to Eleonora Bianchi for the rest of his life; if he broke his vow, he would pay with his life. After a year of his relentless pursuit, his devotion finally wore me down, and I agreed to take him back. I truly believed him then. That Elio truly loved me. Until one night. He took me to an underground racetrack to broker a deal with an ally. But in the roaring crowd, I saw a girl, trembling and crying, her clothes in tatters. Ava was shoved to the starting line. She was the wager for the death race. One look was all it took for Elio's face to darken. The next second, he dropped his hand from my waist and, without a word, walked toward the track entrance. I stood frozen, watching his back as he disappeared into the driver's seat of a modified sports car. I used to wake up crying, terrified he would lose his life in one of these reckless races. He had smashed his trophies, burned his marker for the illegal track, and sworn to God he would never again enter such a life-or-death gamble. My hand drifted to my stomach, covering the secret I hadn't yet had the chance to share. His blood oath was broken. And so was I.

Blaire Presley goes to the Carter residence, battered and bruised after being tormented by the three Carter brothers for three days. "Mr. and Mrs. Carter Senior, I've decided to marry Matthew Carter." Olivia Barrymore is surprised. "Are you sure you have the right guy, Blaire? Matt is those three brats' uncle!" Blaire isn't sure, but she has no other choice.

I was in a temporary shock from an allergic reaction. The two guys I had grown up with didn't even look my way. One of them was busy helping Vivian Byrd carry a pile of gifts, while the other was snapping pictures of her at some popular social media spot. It was a stranger passing by who called an ambulance and got me to the hospital, saving my life. The next day, Vivian called, her tone almost smug. "Trish, Zeke and Hendrick were so exhausted after shopping with me yesterday. I heard you threw a tantrum and ended up in the hospital. Should I come visit you?" I simply replied, "No need." Zeke Benson and Hendrick Peay were my childhood friends. They once treated me like I was everything to them—promising to pluck the moon and stars from the sky and to protect me forever. But ever since Vivian came into the picture, their world no longer revolved around me. I thought for a moment and then dialed my mother's number. "Mom, I'll accept the marriage arrangement."

I was a violin prodigy. But to pay my mother’s debts, I was forced to give up everything. That’s when I met the man who would own me: Dante Moretti. He was the king of New York's underworld. The Don of the Moretti family. With a single phone call, fortunes were made. With a single glance, blood was spilled. The world didn't just bend to his will—it broke. And on that day… what he wanted was me. He gave me a five-year contract. A penthouse in a skyscraper overlooking all of New York. More jewels and gowns than I could count. Every night he needed me, I’d put on whatever lacy thing he picked out. We’d have sex. Five years. 999 times. There were moments—his sweat dripping on my forehead, his soft breaths inside me, the way he’d look at me—when I let myself dream he loved me. Then the video dropped. Him. On the street. Kissing another woman. I knew the truth. He was my keeper, not my lover. Everyone laughed. They couldn't wait to see me lose my mind, begging him to keep me. Instead, I turned my back on him. And married another man.

I was performing the hundredth "restoration" surgery on my mafia husband's latest mistress when I finally decided to leave him. For five years, I, Isabella Rossi, have lived a double life: the respected wife of a powerful Don, and the personal physician tasked with "purifying" the women he discards. Vincent's twisted religious conviction is his law: only a wife untouched by any other man can bear his legitimate heir. I was that pure wife, yet he treated me as his most unclean possession. My love for him died a slow death. A thousand empty nights. It was killed by the cold steel of my own operating table. By the sounds of other women boasting about his touch. The five-year prenuptial agreement that bound me to this hell was set to expire at midnight. I had already called my grandfather, the only man Vincent truly fears. My escape was hours away. By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late.

The day of our Mating Ceremony finally arrived. As the Elder stood before the pack, his voice booming as he announced the exchange of our soul-binding rings, Julian—the man standing across from me—suddenly spoke. "Actually," he said, his voice cutting through the sacred silence. "I’ve been fucking Chloe." I froze. He didn't even blink as he watched the color drain from my face. "While you were busy trying on your ceremonial gown, we were in the dressing room right next to yours," he continued, his tone chillingly conversational. "She couldn't help but scream when she climaxed. You actually thought she was falling ill; you spent ten minutes checking on her through the door, worried sick." "Later, while she stood by your side helping you pick out jewelry, her legs were shaking so hard she could barely stand." In that instant, I felt the blood turn to ice in my veins. Stiffly, I turned my head toward the woman standing in the front row, wearing a radiant smile. Chloe. She was waving her bouquet, cheering my name at the top of her lungs. Just an hour ago, she had been brushing tears from her eyes as she straightened the train of my dress, squeezing my hands and telling me I deserved all the happiness in the world. "Even just now, while you were preparing for the ritual, she was riding me," Julian added, his voice dropping to a low, rough growl. "She got so worked up her claws shredded the skin on my back." He looked down at the silver band in his hand—the ring he had yet to slide onto my finger—with total indifference. "I’m laying it all out there, Elara," he said. "Whether you still want the title of Luna is entirely up to you."

The day my husband, Eric Johnson, brought his foster sister home from overseas, he gave her our master bedroom. "Yvonne just lost her husband. She's heartbroken, so I want her to feel comfortable," he said. I nodded obediently. "Okay." The next day was my birthday. Yvonne said she was feeling down and wanted her brother, Eric, to go stargazing with her. Eric turned to me and said, "She really needs me right now. I'll celebrate your birthday with you later." Still, I smiled and nodded. "Okay." Ten years of marriage and I was ready to walk away from it all… Because I have lived this life once already. In my previous life, I made the mistake of asking Eric to stay with me on my birthday. I did not let him go stargazing with Yvonne. She ended up falling into the water in her sorrow and was rushed to the hospital. After that, Eric shoved my head into a bathtub and held me there until I drowned. In this second life, when Eric handed me the divorce papers and said, "I’m only marrying Yvonne to help her revoke her foreign citizenship and restore her citizenship here. Once it's done, we'll remarry." I did not hesitate. I signed my name without a second thought. By the time he came looking for me again, I was already sitting on his archenemy's lap, smiling like a flower in full bloom.

I'd been married to Joshua Merck for five years, but we still didn't have kids. To stay healthy, I took those pricey custom vitamins he ordered from overseas—never missed a dose. Then my cousin came back from studying abroad, took one look at the bottle, and was like, "That brand doesn't even make custom vitamins." I sent them to the hospital for testing. The lab report hit me like a truck—birth control pills. Powerful ones. Suddenly, all those mornings with Joshua hovering over me, acting so concerned while I took my "vitamins," made sense. The whole thing had been a lie. Five years of lies. Just as I was gearing up to confront him, my phone buzzed—a group chat notification. Shirley Hoare had tagged Joshua. [Honey, I had a prenatal checkup today, and the doctor said I'm carrying twins! Your family's about to get two grandchildren at once—excited?] My heart turned to ash. Everything clicked. Fine. We were done. I pulled out my phone and replied to my childhood sweetheart's message from three days ago: [After watching the northern lights, I still wanted to see penguins in Antarctica.]

My mate, Alpha Alex, had a wolf cursed at birth by a witch—unable to catch the scent of any she-wolf, doomed never to find his true mate. He spent five long years searching for her, only to be met with nothing but disappointment. In the end, broken and exhausted, he gave up. That was when he claimed me. On the night of our bonding, he told me the truth. "Fiona," he said quietly, "I had no choice. If the pack knew their Alpha couldn't even find his true mate, I'd become a disgrace in their eyes. So I chose you. You are my selected mate—but I swear, no one will ever take your title. You are my Luna. Even if I one day find my true mate… that will never change." But then he added, his voice distant and heavy: "Even though I'm cursed… I must still try to find her. I need to search every corner of the pack." From that night onward, she-wolves began appearing at our den one after another—every day, without fail. Some were shy, some bold. Some came bearing gifts, others with longing in their eyes. But all of them came for one reason: to see if they were his mate. And I? I could only watch in silence—his Luna in name, but never truly in heart. Because I knew there was nothing I could do to change his behavior. I had lost count of how many times I cried and begged him to stop—but still, every night, he brought different young she-wolves into our den. I once thought he'd eventually grow tired of it, that he would stop one day. Until he brought home three young she-wolves from the werewolf club. He paid far more than other alphas for their first night. Why? Because a witch told him that only sharing a night with more than two virgin she-wolves from the same bloodline could awaken his wolf's dormant sense—and help him find his true mate. I let out a bitter smile because what he didn't know was— The true mate he had searched for all these years… was me. But I would never return to him again. And by the time he finally found out the truth— It was already too late.