Echo A Novel Novels & Stories

I am Alpha Dominic’s fated mate. I saved him when he was at his lowest. He didn't care that I was just an ordinary Omega. Countless times, as we mated, he’d kiss me like he was starving for me, whispering that I was a gift from the Moon Goddess herself. But that was before his ex—the high-born she-wolf, Chloe—came back. He started letting his pack walk all over me. And when my grandmother was framed for poisoning Chloe, he had her thrown in the dungeon cells without a second thought. I begged him, but Dominic just shot me a cold, warning look. "Evelyn, our mating ceremony is a week away. Don't let this scandal ruin it." He didn't know. That night, my grandmother died in those cells. And I made a decision. I refuse to be his Luna.

At the Nightwood Clan's feast celebrating our victory over the hunters, I was accused by Julia—a fledgling freshly turned from a blood servant. The charge? Stealing fifteen crates of mana crystals and hundreds of vials of the finest rare bloods. She pointed a finger at me, her voice ringing with self-righteousness. "Are we going to let a selfish thief like her continue to control this clan's lifeblood? I propose she be thrown into the Silverwater dungeons immediately!" I looked to Joseph, the Earl of Nightwood, the man I had loved for a hundred years. He knew damn well all of it—the blood, the crystals—was mine. My gift to the clan. I needed those crystals to heal the wounds I took in the fighting, and the rare blood was the only way we could call on our allies. But the man who'd been tangled in my sheets just last night now stared at me coldly. "Julia has records of you stealing clan resources. What do you have to say for yourself?" A smirk touched my lips. "I have nothing to say." So, they thought I was some fool they could just push around. They had no idea I was a descendant of the most powerful Vampire Prince of all, Valerius. If they wanted to play games with me, they’d better be prepared for my revenge.

Five years into my marriage to the Don, Ives Moretti, he left me for dead during a shootout to get his mistress, Isabella, to safety. I woke up three days later in a private hospital room. No apology. Ives was cold. “You’re my wife. You knew the risks. Stop being so dramatic.” Then, he added, “Isabella’s different. She’s fragile. She needed me.” That was followed by three months of the silent treatment. Like always, he expected me to be the one to break, to come crawling back begging for forgiveness. Three months later, I handed the Irish deal to Isabella on a silver platter. The big one I’d spent half a year building myself. Ives thought it was a peace offering. He smiled, a rare, genuine thing these days. “I knew you’d come around. As a reward, we’ll go to Vegas. I know you’ve always wanted to go.” The next day, Isabella whined about being bored, and he broke his promise. He took her to Vegas instead. Told me it was “urgent family business.” This time, I didn’t cry. Didn’t make a scene. Ives was pleased I was being so understanding. He had no idea I was already cutting all ties to the Moretti family. That he’d already signed the divorce papers. I was free.

The night I came of age, the vampire prince Damon couldn’t wait to drag me to his bed. He took me with a desperate, wild hunger that lasted all night long. My body ached, but my heart was full. I’d been his blood servant for ten years. I thought he was finally ready to give me the Embrace, to make me his forever. But after, as he held me and talked on the phone with my foster brother, I heard Marcus ask him in Latin, “So, Master, how did my little sister taste? You know how many men would kill to be in your place? They all think she's a goddess.” Damon's lips curled. “Not bad. A little green. Not nearly wild enough for my tastes.” Marcus laughed. “Well, she's been hopelessly devoted to you since she was a kid. Never even dated.” Then Damon’s voice lowered. “Don't tell Serena about Elena. I have to marry a noble vampire like her in the end, and I don't want her upset.” “A little human like Elena… she's just good for practice.” But Damon didn't know I'd secretly learned Latin just to feel worthy of him. Hearing that, I didn't say a word. I just quietly changed my college application from the University of New Orleans to my dream school, University of Oxford.

I was bleeding out in a corner after a hit from a rival family. My husband, Dante—the Torrino family’s underboss—was in his car, holding his best friend's little sister. He gave me one cold look and said, "Leave her. She's a nobody." Later, after someone else saved me, I walked home, soaked in my own blood. I found Dante cradling Seraphina, fussing over her. All she had was a scraped knee. The blood covering my clothes? He didn't even see it. I just watched. Said nothing. Then I pulled out my phone and called my mother. "Mom, I need to come home."

I ordered a vampire online—Adrian. Hot, aloof. He was supposed to be my bodyguard and live-in housekeeper. But he was always staring at my neck like he was starving. Fangs popping out, eyes glowing red. And he was always walking around shirtless, wearing nothing but an apron. When I tried to stop him, he’d look all hurt and ask, "You don't like it?" "But you're blushing." I didn't know what to do, so I messaged customer service. They suggested, "You could form a bond with him. He'll be more obedient." So I did. But I had no idea I was forming a two-way mate's bond instead of a one-way master-servant bond. The night we bonded, he climbed into my bed, eyes glowing red. He licked my skin, hungry, grinding against me desperately and begging, "Master, just one bite, please? I'll make you feel so good..."

Three years into my arranged marriage with the Valachi family heir, the one that got away came back. He left me for Julia eight times. The ninth time, he left me bleeding on the side of the road with a gunshot wound to go running to Julia, who’d called him because she felt a little dizzy. "She needs me. You get that, right, Leona?" This time, I didn't fight for him. He didn't know about the bet I’d made with Julia. The ninth time he abandoned me, I would be the one to leave for good. So on his birthday, I left a set of signed divorce papers on his desk and got on a plane.

My Alpha slept with another woman. He promised me, "It was an accident." "I was drugged," he said. "I didn't even know what I was doing. Besides, I've already used my family's influence to bury it. No one will ever know." But three months later, I found him in the hospital with her—the pregnant Omega. This time, what Sebastian said to me was as cold and final as a death sentence: "Sophia, you're a smart woman. You understand the importance of a bloodline. This child will be the strongest Alpha heir our pack has seen in decades." That was it. My heart shattered. I turned and walked away. But they had no idea what they had just unleashed.

I am Alpha Bruce’s fated mate. But for eight years, I’ve been his dirty little secret, hiding in plain sight as his Beta. When I saw him preparing the grounds for the Luna ceremony, I thought he was finally going to announce me. But on our eighth anniversary, I saw a video posted by Seraphina, the daughter of the Silvermoon Pack’s Alpha. In it, she was coyly showing off the mating mark on her neck. The caption read: [Eight years apart, eight years you waited. I'm finally going to be yours!] And the hand holding her—I knew it instantly. It was Bruce’s. Only the spot on his wrist where my name had been tattooed now read ‘Seraphina.’ I ran out, desperate to confront them, but I was attacked by rogues on the way. I called for Bruce through our mind-link, over and over. The last time, I heard his voice, low and thick with desire: “Isadora? She was just a placeholder for you. A worthless, parentless she-wolf. She wouldn’t dare make a scene even if she knew.” Lost in despair, the fragile life I carried inside me flickered and died. But they didn’t know that a month ago, my birth parents—the Alpha and Luna of the Silvermoon Pack—had found me. I am the true Alpha’s daughter of the Silvermoon Pack. Seraphina is just an impostor. After the sterile cold of the surgery, the first thing I did was call my mother. “Mom, I’ve made up my mind. I’m coming home to take my place. I agree to the alliance you mentioned, but I want Seraphina exiled from the Silvermoon Pack!”

Last Christmas—in my past life—I was on vacation when the call came. It was Lucy, the family’s new pet capo, and she was in a panic. She’d blown the deal with the Colombians, she said, and now they were threatening to make us pay. I had to rush back and clean up the mess. I saved the deal, but it still cost us a shipment of hardware. And then Lucy, the one who caused the whole mess, pointed the finger straight at me. “It was Madeline! She gave me bad intel! She must’ve set me up!” The truth? The deal went south because she mouthed off to the Colombians and pissed them off. But Henry, the Godfather I’d served loyally for years, didn't want to hear my side. He just branded me a traitor. He kicked me out of the family and put the word out to every outfit that I was a rat. I had a price on my head. I died in some gutter, my body left for the dogs. When I opened my eyes again, it was just before that Christmas. This time, I walked straight into Henry's study and handed over my family signet. "I want out." This time, I can’t wait to see who’s left holding the bag with the pissed-off Colombians.