Dog Scratching Until Bleeding Novels & Stories

Three years after I died, my mother sent me twenty dollars for living expenses. Three years before that—the first time I ever asked my family for money—she said to me, offhand, "Sometimes I think you're just putting on an act. What's so unsanitary about a thirty-cent boxed meal? And why can't you wear a five-dollar down jacket? Face it, you're just more high-maintenance than your little brother." Later, when I needed twenty dollars to buy some cheap medicine for my stomachache, she blocked me immediately and cut off all contact—along with every relative we had. "Don't contact me anymore. I'm clearly not a good mother. I can't afford to give my son a life of luxury." But for my younger brother, who had just started high school, she spared no expense—renting him a three-bedroom apartment. Even the family dog got its own room. In the end, on the day my brother became the top scorer in the state, she finally remembered me. She took me off her block list and transferred twenty dollars. "It's only twenty dollars. Was it really worth giving your family the silent treatment for three whole years?" What she never knew was this— On the night my stomach ruptured, three years ago, I had already died. I couldn't afford to go to the hospital. I froze to death in the snow.

At my lowest point that year, I took a job at a pet shop, where I was assigned to take care of a "gentle-tempered" silver-white Alaskan Malamute. Every time I went near him, he would lift his head and bury his nose against my chest, breathing in low, rough sounds that felt disturbingly like a grown man holding himself back. Especially when my hand brushed through his beautiful fur, his body would heat up, and his eyes would darken and burn with unmistakable possessiveness. Thinking he was sick, I rushed to find the shop owner. The owner gave me a long, meaningful glance. "He's not sick. But he only acts like this with you. "You need to bathe him, give him a full-body massage, and try giving him a little kiss. Otherwise, he might lose control." I had my doubts about the whole thing, but I didn't really have a choice. I went along with it anyway. Eventually, I told the friend who had gotten me this job everything that had been happening. After she heard me out, she went quiet for a second. Then, she looked at me strangely and said, "Have you ever thought that maybe you're not looking after a dog at all? What if he's actually a werewolf who can take human form, and he's in heat, using pheromones to mess with you because he wants to… You know, sleep with you?"

The boy, George Larson, whom I once saved as a child, when he was struggling with asthma, repaid my kindness by imprisoning me for seven long years. "Luna, you're my everything. I won’t let you out of my sight," he said, his voice filled with obsession. He tied my hands and feet, keeping me bound to the bed like a helpless doll, but I did not love him; I wanted to escape. In his madness, he set fire to my family’s ancestral home. The last traces of the Sachs burned to ashes, disappearing into the wind. He said that since my home was gone, I could just live with him and that it would be my new home. However, because I refused to let him touch me, he found someone else—a girl with a beauty mark under her eye, just like mine. The girl, drunk on his affection, thought I was trying to imitate her by faking the same tear-shaped mark. In a fit of jealousy, she gouged out my eyes. My face was covered with tiny, bleeding holes, blood streaming down my body. When George came home, the girl gleefully stuffed me into a trash bag, proud of her handiwork. “George, look! I caught some trash that broke into the house!” George did not even glance at me. He just loosened his tie, his voice calm and detached. “Just toss it where trash belongs.”

She died on Christmas Eve—betrayed, hunted, and sacrificed by the mate who promised her forever. But the Moon Goddess isn’t done with Mara Hartwell. Returned to the past with only days before her doomed wedding, Mara is given one impossible path to survival: Make the Alpha who refuses to celebrate Christmas fall in love with her. Alpha Aldrich Valtor is everything danger should look like—cold, feared, marked by a Christmas Eve tragedy that shattered him, and bound to secrets no one dares question. He doesn’t want a mate. He doesn’t believe in fate. And he certainly doesn’t celebrate Christmas. Yet when Mara crosses into his world—bleeding, desperate, and more alluring than she should be—something inside him answers. A contract becomes a lifeline. A stranger becomes a shield. And a forbidden pull neither understands begins to burn between them. But the past is never far behind. Enemies circle. Old debts rise. Shadows whisper of curses, rituals, and a truth that could ruin them both. As Christmas draws near, Mara must decide whether to trust the dangerous Alpha who could save her life… or break her heart worse than destiny ever did. Because this Christmas, survival isn’t guaranteed. Love might be the only thing powerful enough to rewrite fate—and it might also be the price.

As Gamma of the Creed Pack, I'd held the Northern Border alone for three full years. Every time I called in to ask when I could come home, my mate — the Alpha of Creed — picked up the phone himself. He told me the rogues weren't cleared. He told me the rival packs were still circling. He said, "Nora. One more year. Once we have completely eliminated all our enemies, I will hold the grandest mating ceremony for you. I swear it on the Moon." I believed him. When I dragged myself out of a pile of dead rogues with a silver arrowhead still lodged an inch from my heart, bleeding too fast for a medevac, my warriors had to shift and run me back in wolf form all the way to Creed territory. The moment we crossed the border, I saw fairy lights strung from every streetlamp along the road to the pack house. Pack wolves on the sidewalks were talking loud, smiling at each other. "The Alpha's Mating Ceremony is tonight. He's taking the Elder's daughter as Luna. Three years of peace on the border. It's a good time to be Creed." I coughed dark blood into the fur on the back of my warrior's neck and laughed, short and bitter. He hadn't needed me holding the border. He just hadn't wanted me home.

“The contract was only for a year, Mr Gray. I marry you for one year and you stay the fuck away from my properties,” her tone was high-pitched annoyance and anger. “You got it all wrong, sugar. The contract was to quench my thirst for you but all you did was fuel that desire. Now, I want to own you. Your body, heart and fucking soul,” that honeylike baritone was void of its usual teasing now. He meant every word of it. There was no escape for her. ********** As she lay on the operating table, bleeding to death from an abortion her husband, Regal had arranged, Claire saw her life flash before her eyes. Even in her dying state, he refused her a transfusion because donating blood would ‘hurt’ his unborn child. The words pierced through her heart. The man she'd given her world to chose her sister over her without blinking. But then life smiled at her and she was given a second chance to correct her mistakes. What happens when she gambles this chance by stealing from the famous trillionaire, Asher Gray? What will be her fate when he barges into her life and overturns her world with his wicked seduction? When life throws Regal at her feet, begging for a second chance, when old flames ignite, will she let go of the past and forgive or pursue the prospect of a beautiful new love?

How long can a heart survive when it’s shattered daily?How much pain can a soul take before it forgets what it means to be whole?On my 21st birthday, I was supposed to find my fated mate.Instead, I was rejected—publicly—because the Alpha’s heir was in love with my sister.But fate didn’t choose her. It chose me.So he married me… and punished me for it.He beat me when I spoke.He beat me when I stayed silent.Every bruise, every scar was a reminder—I wasn’t her.And I’d never be enough.“Pretend to be her,” he’d whisper in the dark.Then he’d use my body like it didn’t belong to me.They called me a curse.The daughter of a slave.An Omega mistake who stole her sister’s mate.I was forced to watch him worship her, protect her, love her—while I was left bleeding in shadows.Until one night… I ran.Into the arms of a stranger, I finally felt what it meant to be touched with care.One night of freedom. One night of peace.Then I found out I was pregnant.And the child isn't my mate’s.What happens when he finds out?Will he let me go—or make me pay for escaping him?And what if the stranger from that night… is more than just a memory?

The little boy I had saved when we were kids grew up to be a possessive, obsessive CEO. For ten years, he kept me by his side, using my grandmother's illness as a bargaining chip to force me into marrying him. He tried everything to win my heart, pulling every trick in the book, but no matter what he did, he could never make me love him. In a fit of rage, he found a woman who looked almost exactly like me to take my place. They flaunted their relationship for everyone to see, and people whispered that the CEO had finally found his true love. But that day, the woman, riding on his affection, barged into the villa with her entourage. She broke my fingers one by one, slashed my face with a utility knife, and removed my clothes to humiliate me. "Even though you had surgery to look like me, I'll let that slide. But you even learned to paint like me, too? You really did your homework. Let's see how you try to seduce men now!" Just as I was bleeding out and on the verge of death, the obsessive CEO finally showed up. The stand-in grabbed my hair and dragged me in front of him, smugly reporting, "Honey, this wench was hiding in the villa trying to seduce you. I've made sure she can't succeed!"

I still have a week before my due date when a truck suddenly hits me, sending me flying several feet and leaving me bleeding profusely on the ground. As I lose consciousness, I call my husband, Wallace Brown, begging him to rush over and save our unborn child, only for him to reply coldly, "It's Beth's 18th birthday party today, Meryl. You can't seriously be pulling one of your stunts on a day like this, can you?" In the next instant, I hear my son, Daniel Brown, exclaiming, "You're always using the baby to threaten us, Mommy! I really hate it when you do that!" Wallace stresses the importance of Beth's birthday party again, demands that I attend immediately, and then hangs up on me. With a pool of blood spreading beneath me, I close my eyes, overcome by despair. When I open my eyes again, I am met by the sight of a death certificate. The doctor delivers a crushing pronouncement. "I'm sorry, but if you had gotten here sooner, we might have been able to save the baby's life…" I look at the death certificate, feeling as though my heart died with my baby. I finally decide to leave this family, yet now they're the ones begging me to stay.

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. Mine's been chilling for five years. The night James Reed kicked me out of his life, I was pregnant, penniless, and naive enough to believe love mattered more than money. He taught me better. When you're bleeding out in the rain, clutching your stomach while your best friend laughs from his doorway, you learn exactly what you're worth to people like them. Zero. But the woman who nearly died that night? She stayed dead. The one who came back is someone else entirely. Anna Quinn. Lost daughter of California's most powerful family. CEO of her own pharmaceutical empire. And the silent majority shareholder in James Reed's failing company. He's about to learn what happens when you build an empire on stolen foundations. His marriage has cracks he doesn't see. And the investors keeping him afloat? They answer to me now. He thinks he's untouchable. That my formula made him invincible. But success built on stolen work has a way of crumbling when the original genius decides to pull the rug out. I don't want him back. I want him ruined. And this time, I'm the one holding all the cards.