Claimed Novel Novels & Stories

My phone suddenly buzzed with an anonymous message. It contained a link to a forum. I clicked it and saw the headline: [SHOCKING: The Blackwood Pack's Former Lead Beta and Her Road to Betrayal] The post was a gallery of photos of me and Damien, spliced with all sorts of malicious speculation. "The exiled Beta warrior sold her body and pack secrets in exchange for protection from the Ironfang Pack." "Look at how eager she was to leave. She must have been hooking up with the Ironfang Alpha for ages."

The Royal Crimson Bar lived up to its reputation. Creatures of the night and humans mingled as they raised their drinks to the air and danced to the beat of the bustling music. The night hasn't yet reached its peak but humans flocked to this place without regard to the safety code the World Government established to protect them from the creatures of the night. Fifty years ago, the world dramatically changed after a phenomenon struck it with the revelation that the creatures of the night really exist and not some type of fiction that could be read in novels.

The company was preparing to host a major client from Qamaria. So, I pulled three straight all-nighters to put together a flawless reception plan. Unfortunately, I made a critical mistake in the middle of all that work. I completely forgot about the Qamarians' restrictions regarding the consumption of pork. By the time I realized my blunder, the menu featuring roast suckling pig had already been submitted to the catering department and could no longer be recalled. I slumped at my desk, my back drenched in cold sweat. If the client took offense, not only would the $300 million contract fall through, but I'd likely also be blacklisted by the entire industry. Just as I despaired and opened

There, at the end of the hall, approached another young man—this one with a buzzed head and a spiraling tattoo peeking out of the collar of his shirt. Lucas stiffened. “Rowan.” “If you want to win the new girl over, Lucas, then maybe give her some space to breathe,” Rowan said, moving toward us with long, unhurried strides. As he came closer, the scent of whiskey washed over me. “And she hasn’t even acquired her wolf yet, so there’s no knowing if she’s your mate or not.” The tips of Lucas’s ears reddened, but he puffed out his chest and replied, “Yes, well, forgive me for being serious about finding my mate.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” “Because I was seventeen. Devastated. And I didn’t want to believe it was real.” I run a hand through my hair. “I spent years searching anyway. Hoping I was wrong. Hoping she was still alive somewhere.” “But she wasn’t.” “No. She wasn’t.” “And now,” Colt says carefully, “we have Rhea. A second chance mate.” “If that’s what she is,” I say. “We still don’t know for sure.” “It doesn’t matter,” my father says firmly. “First or second—she’s yours now. That’s all that matters.”

Luca muttered quietly to himself in the dark, the ocean breeze ruffling his dark hair. He drafted a highly detailed, fabricated story. The email boldly claimed that Athena Cole, right before her abrupt termination from the Westbridge roster, illegally downloaded proprietary Westbridge defensive playbooks. He alleged with fake inside authority that her sudden coaching "genius" at Ashford was built on stolen Westmore and Westbridge intellectual property. He threw in enough real hockey terminology and vague dates to make the lie sound undeniable. Luca hit *Send*. He pocketed the phone immediately. A dark, deeply satisfied smirk spread slowly across his handsome face. He had lit the match; now h

Shawn unexpectedly lost his breath. He was even more handsome now than he had been in college, manly fair, and as prim and proper as usual. But the raw need in his eyes drew him to Ivan like a moth to a flame. Ten years had passed since that day in the locker room when he had caught Ivan, who told him he was not gay and would never be one, swapping spit with Alexander Stroviv. He had fooled himself into believing Ivan was straight, as he had endlessly said, and that he was pushing too much.

BELLE My heart hammered as I stared at the headline for the hundredth time. Breaking News: Billionaire Bachelor, Zalden Marlowe spotted with his secret family. “H-how did they learn about this?” My voice came out barely as a whisper. Zalden's face was glaring in the picture, and so was mine. They thought blurring my face would hide my identity, but I wasn't stupid. Everyone close enough would know who I was. By now, his entire company was probably buzzing about it.

She put the letter on the table the way she put things that required both of us, without preamble, and sat down while I read. I read it twice. "Yates," I said. “Yes." "He waited three years." "He used it for three years," she said. "There is a difference. He has been building this." I looked at the list of claims. The conflict of interest allegations were thin. The supply chain connection was a stretch that any competent lawyer could dismantle. But the last one. The foreknowledge claim. "The rebirth story," I said. "Cassie's slip to the first journalist was never fully buried," Clara said. "There is a thread there. Vague enough to be unverifiable but specific enough to attach to the business

I closed my eyes, not wanting him to confirm how close the danger had been, but still needing to hear it. "No," He said curtly. "They were not my kind. I belong to a pack. Those were rogues. They were wolves that had been banished to unclaimed land for committing crimes. Your house is in the middle of a large strip of unclaimed territory. Every day, more rogues seem to be passing through, and it's not a good sign. Something's going on, and I need to find out what." There was a long and tense silence as I swallowed hard. How many times had I let my daughter run through these woods with me while we played?