D D Novels Novels & Stories

The first thing I did when I came back to life was to pawn off my engagement to the Don of the Schroder family, Edmund, on my stepsister. In my last life, he used the "family rules" to make me give up the one thing I loved—racing. He threw out all my colorful dresses and turned me into his canary in a gilded cage. I died, suffocated and hopeless. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the marriage contract was to be signed. I quietly switched my name with my stepsister Laura's and let Edmund sign the papers. He didn't forget to warn me, "Stay out of trouble. Our wedding is in three days. Be a good girl and wait for me to come get you." But he had no idea I'd already bought a fake ID and passport. In three days, I'd be gone. I'd be free.

My parents forced me to drop out of school and work eight jobs just to support my cousin Lola. I was only allowed to keep twenty bucks a month. One day, while working on a construction site, I got buried in a collapse. Dying, I called them—but they were busy throwing a lavish birthday party for Lola. Turns out they'd faked bankruptcy. Every penny went to her. After I died, they spread rumors that I'd run off with some guy. When the truth came out, my parents lost their minds. Their company went under. Later, I found out Lola was actually my twin sister—she'd been sent away as a baby to avoid some legal trouble. In the end, my mother poisoned Lola, then killed herself. Only then could my soul rest. My aunt came to my grave and whispered, "Next life, come to me."

He almost never texts me first, and in person he barely says a word. In three years together, he's never remembered a single anniversary, and he's never once suggested we celebrate a holiday. But the second I message him first, he lights up, all "baby" this and "baby" that, fussing over me, coaxing me to sleep. Sometimes I'd get this strange feeling that there were two different Noahs. His explanation was that he was just bad with words face-to-face, and that texting or voice notes felt like less pressure. I kept telling myself that being together meant meeting each other halfway. He was quiet and reserved, so I'd be the one to reach out. He forgot anniversaries, so I booked the restaurant and reminded him to keep the night free. He had no time to schedule our engagement shoot, so I handled the whole thing with the studio myself. He was too busy with work to help us move, so I packed everything alone, booked the movers, and got it all done. When I was so worn out I was about to break, I'd send him a voice note, and he'd say, "I'm so sorry, baby. The lab was insane today. I couldn't be there for you, and it kills me to watch you run yourself into the ground." Hearing how guilty he sounded, all my hurt just melted away. And that's how I carried three years of this relationship on my own, running on the flawless tenderness he only ever gave me online. Until today, when I found a program on his laptop called Boyfriend Assistant. It analyzed every message I sent and generated the perfect reply, the perfect response, every single time. Cold snap? It sent: Bundle up, baby. Time of the month? It pinged an API and auto-ordered hot chocolate to my door. All those late nights he spent "working," the gentle voice notes that lulled me to sleep, every one of them was synthesized in Noah's voice. For three years, the person who'd been there for me, day and night, was never Noah at all. For three years, I'd been performing a one-woman show.

I was reborn on the day my parents forced me to swear a blood oath before the Moon Goddess. They wanted me to swear I'd give up my mate, Damien — hand him over to my sister, Vivienne. The first time around, I'd refused. I'd cried and fought and begged. I tried everything to make Damien see the truth. I pleaded with my parents to tell him the real story, to stop letting Vivienne impersonate me. All I got in return was Damien's deepening hatred. I'd run from the territory in desperation, trying to find Damien and explain face to face. I was ambushed by rogue wolves on the way. Left bleeding out in the dirt. With my last shred of strength, I reached out through the pack mind-link, begging Damien for help. His voice cut through my mind, cold as ice. "Drop the act. I'm done with your little sympathy plays." "Don't interrupt my Mating Ceremony with Vivienne." Then he severed the link without a second thought. I died alone in the wilderness. The last thing I heard was the distant roar of celebration from the pack territory — Damien and Vivienne's Mating Ceremony. This time, I clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms. This time, I would never beg again.

He was a billionaire for a reason, yet he was swayed by a woman. Recalling the moment he entered into the living room as she hurled her red satin bra at him, revealing her naked treasure. She had captivated his attention in a manner that no other woman had before. Then she'd contested and dared him, and he'd discovered he enjoyed it. Women frequently become charmingly submissive around him. But she was so unique. Forget danger. Challenge could have been her middle name.

"Don't worry, I'm not such a barbarian that I'd take my wife against the wall of my living room. I like to take my time, so I'd make a list of the things I'm going to do to you." His sultry promise only made her melt beneath his touch, just wondering what he'd do to her... When her twin Cindy ran away from her wedding, Rella found herself torn between duty and love. From the moment she set eyes on Stefan Diamond, Rella knew her heart wasn't hers anymore but there's just one problem, he was her sister's fiancé and she knew there was no going back the moment she started down the isle towards him as Cindy. But when she realises he had known who she was all along Rella couldn't help but wonder what else he was keeping from her.

My mate, Alpha Lucius, was kissing me when I heard it slip through his mind-link. “My sweet little pup. Daddy’s moving you and Mommy into the new villa tomorrow. I built it just for you.” That’s when I knew. The villa he’d spent a fortune of my pack’s money on… was a love nest. For his bastard and his whore, Clara. He didn't even notice I'd gone cold, too busy bragging about his re-election as Alliance Chairman. He’d been Chairman for four years. Everyone thought his re-election was a sure thing. But the fool forgot. He was only the most powerful Alpha because of me. He was only Chairman because of me. Because of my Silver Moon Pack. Because of my bloodline. I shoved him away. I sent an urgent mind-link to my father. "Lucius has betrayed the Silver Moon bloodline. He and that omega bitch… they’re going to die."

It was the third Valentine's Day after our marriage. Samuel was complaining to his friends about me, "Noelle's very uptight. She's so boring in bed. It's like doing it with a blow-up doll. I'd never have married her if she wasn't rich." I went to a club and got a model with an eight-pack to please me. Enraged, Samuel demanded an explanation. I eyed him and snickered. "Look at you. You're so flabby. I'd never have married you if you weren't at least good-looking."

(Sequel to Rite of Submission) Selene D'Arcadia had already had her world turned upside down over and over again when the Alpha came to collect the mate their parents had arranged for him when they were children. No one could have predicted that she'd turn out to be the long lost niece of the Lycan King. Now that he knows she's alive and where to find her, she has to do what ever it takes to escape her uncle's clutches, even if it means starting a war between their packs.

When Sylvia Reed postponed our wedding for the fifth time, I found a pregnancy test report in her bag and decided to force the issue. Then I saw a trending local post. A woman rolled up her sleeves, baking cookies. Beside her, a man bent down to tease a child. One look was enough. I recognized the scar on her wrist. It was in the exact same spot as the one Sylvia got years ago when she took a knife for me. The scarf draped over the man's shoulders was one I'd custom-made for Sylvia. Our initials were stitched into it. The sight burned. I thought about how Sylvia had been glued to her phone lately, and how I'd heard a baby crying through it. Ten minutes ago, she'd sent me a voice message. "Luke, something urgent came up at the company. I can't make it back to try on the suit with you. Maybe we should postpone the wedding again? Next year. We'll definitely do it next year." But I'd already waited seven years for this wedding. I took off my groom's suit and cut it to pieces. Then I wiped my eyes, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number I hadn't called in seven years. "I'm short a bride for my wedding. Interested?"