Calling Chica

In the empty villa, Celia Quinn sat motionless on the sofa. It wasn't until much later that the villa's front door swung open, and Lucas Shaw stepped inside. His gaze paused briefly on her, then his expression turned cold. "Yvonne is running a fever today. Why did you keep calling me?"

While exploring the wilderness, my younger sister—Charlotte Forrester—and I accidentally stumble onto the territory of supernatural beings. She grabs the hand of the noble, elegant male elf, her posture coy and intimate. Before I can react, a wolfman with a scar on his face wraps his arm around my waist and leads me away. Charlotte, who judges others by appearance, is unaware that the male elf—Elwin Duskwood—belongs to a tribe of half-elves. Half-elves are beautiful but possess no real capabilities. They are considered a marginalized group among elves and struggle to make ends meet every day. On the other hand, the wolfman—Morgan Nightshade—is a mid-tier wolf tribe's Highlord. After giving birth to an extremely rare silver wolf for him, I have become the Highlady of the tribe. I'm respected by everyone in the tribe and feast on delicacies every day. Meanwhile, Charlotte becomes emaciated after suffering from starvation for several months. When she sees how plump I am, she goes insane from jealousy. While the wolf tribe is entertaining guests at a banquet, she uses poison to kill me. The next time I open my eyes, Charlotte and I are back at the moment we first entered the supernatural beings' territory by mistake. Charlotte immediately hugs Morgan by the waist and kisses him. She showers him with flattery about his strength, calling him the man of her dreams. I can't help but laugh out loud. Silly Charlotte. As a wolfman, Morgan is ill-tempered, and he easily loses control of his emotions. He also becomes even more bloodthirsty after transforming. It's not all sunshine and rainbows being his mate. But I never imagined the elves could be so… in that regard.

" Karen!" He screamed, kneeing beside her, " Karen! No please don't let me" he added as fake tear pour down his face. Karen stared at him with her eyes wide open, struggling with the pain, "You've always been stubborn, what made you think I will divorce you?. Of course, the clan would ask me questions but this plan was brilliant right, you die, they mourn you and we all move on." " Yo.....u're an an... im... al" she stuttered " No no, this was just the only way to get rid of you, you falling mixed with the poison will make sure you never survive" he said Karen struggled but the pain was too much and the darkness was calling her so strongly. " Is she dead?" asked a feminine voice, Karen Digwe a 20 year old young lady, who had a crush on the most popular boy in school, Allen Robert. next alpha of the clan, which made him the apple of every girl’s eyes, they all wanted to be the lucky one. Ever since high school Karen had often received letters from her secret admirer who always signed it with Ar, which at first she thought was Allen, maybe he had a crush on her too and didn't want her to know but her suspicions were wrong when the person sent her a letter warning her not to get married to Allen Robert. But she didn't listen, after a year of marriage, Karen is killed by her very own husband. Also finding out he had a mistress all this time. Karen thinking everything was over as she embraced the darkness of death, only to wake up 2 year before her marriage to Allen. Will she take revenge or forgive him? What other secrets does Allen hold? Find Out In The Luna's Pain.

After three miscarriages for Xavier Lowe, I see it—my mother-in-law has three years left, my father-in-law nine years, and my sister-in-law two years. I say nothing. After the third miscarriage, my mother-in-law blames me, calling me a curse who "kills" children. My sister-in-law sneers, saying she almost died in a car crash the year I married Xavier—as if my bad luck dragged her down. My mother-in-law snaps, "She can't even keep a child. It must be because she's cursed!" Xavier just stands there, silent. He doesn't say a single word for me. I know that, deep down, he believes that I bring bad luck. Maybe it's also because he already has someone else—his secretary, Yvette Snyder. His mother has always liked her better, and he clung to her the night I lost my third child. I don't explain because I know the truth will only destroy them faster. On my 28th birthday, I catch a glimpse of my own countdown in the mirror. On that day, I take a leave of absence. I go to the funeral home and pick out an urn—pure white, just like the wedding dress I once wore. Wearing a beautiful floral dress, I text Xavier, asking him to meet me at the lake where we first met ten years ago. I wait from daylight until nightfall as my countdown ticks to zero. I die, and he never shows up.

He’s the dracula that is determined to be the next Alpha. And he just rejected Angel as his mate. Angel want to hate his guts for ghosting her … but she can practically hear his wolf calling to hers.If determination had a name, this black wolf would be it. Tall, broad and muscular, he’s been training his whole life to take over as the new pack leader. With his sharp gray eyes and thick black hair, he looks every bit the part and his delicious scent makes it impossible for Angel to stay mad at him … or resist him.Angel pretends to hate him and never want him again yet not even proud Alphas or rejected mates can escape fate…How much longer can you resist the delicious pull?

At the age of twenty, I mated to my father's best friend, Lucian, the Alpha of Silverfang Pack despite our age difference. He was eight years older than me and was known in the pack as the cold-hearted King of Hell. He was ruthless in the pack and never got close to any she-wolves, but he was extremely gentle and sweet towards me. He would buy me the priceless Fangborn necklace the next day just because I casually said, "It looks good." When I curled up in bed in pain during my period, he would put aside Alpha councils and personally make pain suppressant for me, coaxing me to drink spoonful by spoonful. He would hug me tight when we mated, calling me "sweetheart" in a low and hoarse voice. He claimed I was so alluring that my body had him utterly addicted as if every curve were a narcotic he couldn't quit. He even named his most valuable antique Stormwolf Armour "For Elise". For years, I had believed it was to commemorate the melody I had played at the piano on our first encounter—the very tune that had sparked our love story. Until that day, I found an old photo album in his study. The album was full of photos of the same she-wolf. You wouldn’t believe this, but we looked like twin sisters! The she-wolf in one of the photos was playing the piano and smiling brightly. The back of the photo said, "For Elise." ... After discovering the truth, I immediately drafted a severance agreement to sever our mate bond. Since Lucian only cared about Elise, no way in hell I would be your Luna Alice anymore.

I married Rafe Maretti—the man who owned the Maretti Casino empire. Sophisticated, ruthless, but sinfully charming. By year three of our marriage, I introduced my little sister to his nephew, Adam Moretti—twenty-five, all sharp smiles and sharper ambition. He ran the dirtier side of the family’s business—arms, drugs, the kind of trade that dripped blood and money in equal parts. I married the powerful, irresistible uncle. She married the young, dangerous nephew. It was supposed to be our fairytale. Then one day, I got kidnapped in Rafe’s casino. Snatched by a rival mafia family desperate to force Rafe to sign over one of his biggest, most profitable casinos. Except Rafe didn’t answer the phone or even notice I was gone. The kidnappers grew impatient. First, it was slaps. Then punches. Then they shattered my leg and buried a knife in my stomach. Still no word from my husband. Until finally, after what felt like a hundred unanswered calls, a single message came through. "I’m with Bianca. She’s having a stomach. Stop calling." Once the kidnappers realized I had no value, they dumped me in a rotting warehouse like discarded luggage. It was Isla, my sister, who found me. She got me out. And then the brakes failed. The car spun out. Isla went unconscious beside me. I tried calling Adam. Isla’s husband. But as soon the call went through, all I could hear was. “Leave me along. Isla, I am in the middle of something here.” When I clearly heard a woman’s voice in the back. If not for a passing stranger, Isla and me wouldn’t have made it to the hospital, let along have survived. So when I opened my eyes again, the first thing I thought was: I’m divorcing that sorry bastard. The Maretti can go to hell.

Before I turned eighteen, I was the adored principessa of the Moretti family. That all changed on my eighteenth birthday, when my father brought home an orphan girl named Carina. "She needs a home," my father said. "You will look after her, like a sister." From that moment on, nothing was the same. My brother, who once doted on me, became cold and distant. And my fiancé... his love for me seemed to halve overnight. The family praised Carina for being gentle and obedient, calling her a far better daughter than me, their own flesh and blood. After being cast aside for Carina one too many times, I finally broke and grabbed my father's sleeve. "Does blood mean nothing at all?" My father's fury ignited. He sheltered a tear-stricken Carina behind him, and in front of every member of the family, he struck me across the face. "You selfish waste. I wish I'd never had you." "You bring shame to this family," my brother Marco's voice was as cold as a blade. "Get out." And my fiancé, Vincent, looked at me with disappointment,"If only it had been Carina I was engaged to from the start." They thought I would grovel at their feet, like I always did. But I said nothing, just walked to the family safe, removed the official documents, and drew a single line through my name. I took the engagement ring from my finger and placed it on the table. I gave Carina everything they felt I didn't deserve. After all, I only had a few days left to live. But they had no idea then that amid the ruins of the Moretti family, they would one day kneel in the rain and plead for my return.

"What!" Ethan says in his all too familiar deep rude voice. "You hit me, which caused my coffee to spill all over me," I say, pointing out the obvious. "So, what do you want me to do about it," He speaks like he has done nothing wrong "You are supposed to say sorry," I say in a duh tone "And why should I." "Because that is what people with manners do." "I know that, but you don't deserve sorry from me." "Wow, really, and why is that." "Because black bitches like you don't deserve it." "I have told you times without number to stop calling me that," I say getting angry with his insults "Make me," Ethan says, taking a dangerous step closer to me. I don't say anything, but hiss and walk past him. I don't know why I even expected him to say anything better. It is Ethan, after all. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is a story about two people who knew how to express the word hate more than anything else to one another. Ethan hates Adina more than anything in the world and would give anything to see her perish into thin air. While on the other hand Adina could careless about Ethan other than the fact that she won't let him walk all over her with his arrogant character. What happens when a big incident changes all that. How do these two different people deal with a feeling that is supposed to be forbidden to feel for the each other. Read to find out how the person you hate the most is the one person you can love the most.

After Mom passed, it was just me and Dad, depending on each other. I’ve always had poor health, and people used to taunt me, calling me a “sickly, doomed child.” He kneeled by my bedside, making a promise. “I swear, I’ll get you the best treatment, no matter what. You’ll never suffer again!” Eventually, he became a powerful CEO, going so far as to buy an entire private villa just so I could recover in peace. However, his assistant assumed I was his mistress.  She came in with a group of security guards and surrounded me. “So, you’re the cripple who’s been seducing Mr. Johnson?” “Let’s see if you can still act high and mighty after I’m done with you!” She kicked over my wheelchair, yanked me by the hair, scratched up my face, and finally cut off my hand. Barely clinging to life, I lay there until Dad came back. She held up my severed hand, presenting it to him. “Mr. Johnson, this was a spy sent by a rival company. I took care of her for you.”