Female Zamasu Novels & Stories

Sated from their passionate deed, Jonathan Sheffield rises and gently scoops the worn-out Eloise Carter into his arms. He cleans her in the bathroom, carries her back to bed, and lets her settle in. Normally, Eloise will have fallen asleep by now. But she won't allow herself to doze off tonight, not before she takes out the birthday present she's carefully prepared for Jonathan. Jonathan is making a phone call out on the balcony when Eloise quietly takes out the present she has hidden. It's a red velvet box, containing the ring she plans to give him when she proposes. She inches closer to the balcony and is about to speak when she freezes. A shocked, male voice rings out from the other end of Jonathan's phone, which he's casually left on the balcony ledge. "What the hell? You must be out of your mind, Jonathan! You're planning to take Eloise's heart and give it to Sonia?"

I'm the Whitefang Pack Alpha's daughter. Thanks to Samzor—Alpha of Nightfang and my so-called betrothed—I got shoved into a mate bond with a limp rogue. He sold out three generations of Nightfang war honors just to make it happen. Dad lost it. He went straight to Nightfang territory, demanding answers. Samzor? He laughed. "Alpha Connor, come on. Nyara's your heir. You'd never let her actually mate a cripple. "I've loved her for seven years. I'd never mistreat her. I just need her to compromise—let Catherine stay with me. "Don't stress. Catherine's obedient. Polite. She'll make a good servant for Nyara." Catherine. A fox-wolf halfblood he dragged in from a border patrol. Scared I'd kick her out the second our bond was sealed, he cooked up this garbage plan to trap me. Only problem? The Alpha King's decree doesn't do take-backs. Mom handled the dowry. I'd go through with the ceremony. Bond to that rogue. After that? Samzor was dead to me.

I was rejected by my best friend at my 18th coming-of-age ceremony. “What I seek in a mate is a female warrior like your mother, not... not someone like you." Not someone like me, a mute, an omega with no fighting capability. I struggled to compose myself, holding back tears, continuing to communicate silently with gestures。 Why? Kevin, it wasn't my fault that I wasn't as strong a beta as my mother. He sighed, shifting his gaze away from me, the laughter from the werewolves in the audience almost knocked down my self-esteem. ----Many years later, Alpha Kevin meets his mute mate again. He will pay a heavy price and regret for his mistake in rejecting her when he was young. Ella, she looks like a useless Omega, but in fact she is a poisoner. After her mother died to protect Kevin, she decided to become a she-wolf who is loyal to herself.

Mikalya Carnell, a woman born into a cursed pack where women are nothing but birthing machines. The first female alpha in the world. But to become the Alpha, she had to commit a crime that haunts her an eternity later. Now she a lone wolf, a rogue that has no place but the one she made on her own and she’s happy being left alone. But an Alpha can’t stay alone forever without forming a pack and inevitably, she begins drawing wolves to her. Abhay Raichand is a photographer who meets this mysterious woman in the deserts of Rajasthan, who looks like a foreigner and is instantly drawn to her. But whenever he is around her, he feel the chill of the mountains and a reoccurring dream of his impending death. However, despite the sense of danger, he cannot help but continue to fall in love with her. Will Mikalya finally settle down and let Abhay into her life? And will Abhay be able to convince her that she was chosen as the Alpha for a reason?

Aline’s life plan doesn’t include being the sole female in a pack full of idiot males. When her boyfriend turns Alpha and imprints on her best friend, she learns horror stories are real. When Hunters attack the pack, Aline discovers how far she'd go to cheat fate. Jian, her packmate and secret-admirer, finds Aline naked in the trees, broken by her epiphany. Lending her his shirt and taking her home hardly seems like a life-changing event. But she asks him to stay. Will Aline choose Jian over the imprint she's fated to meet? --- Author's Note: Your reading experience is important to me. For some, certain topics can ruin that experience. Please visit https://laelamoreno.tumblr.com for a list of trigger warnings.

The supernatural world in the UK in 2023 is dramatic, filled with hostile takeovers, new developments and, unfortunately, murder. The werewolves want to establish themselves as the top of the food chain, pushing everyone else into hiding. At nearly 298 years old, Ophelia is used to things going her way. She has immaculate control, she's happy, and her life just works. She is in perfect harmony with her succubus and wolf, and is more than content with where she is. That's until Nathaniel, the heir to the local werewolf pack shoves his way back into her life, disrupting the burgeoning relationship she was already in with her head of security, Luke. With Nathaniel comes complications, both with the wolf pack and personally. The three of them need to learn to work and live together, for the safety of those around them. But can they? An alpha female, an alpha male and a beta male in a relationship is a recipe for disaster, but somehow, they need to make it work.

The first time I lived, my sister and I found two dragon eggs. The black one pulsed with raw, untamed power. My sister, Isabella, claimed it without a second thought. The white one was left for me. A cracked, forgotten thing. It held only a whisper of magic. I took it out of pity. Within a year, the black dragon shattered his shell and emerged a man so beautiful it was a curse. He became Isabella's devoted weapon, his power forging her path to godhood. Meanwhile, the white egg fed on me. I poured everything I had into my white egg. My magic, my money, my soul. For ten long years, it gave me nothing. Everyone said to abandon it. But I couldn’t. I was an orphan, ignored by my sister. I just wanted a companion. But as the dark plague swept the lands, the egg I'd nurtured for a decade hatched overnight—while I was dying, he soared past me to save Isabella. He could have hatched years ago. Could have been human all along. But he chose Isabella. He mistook her for his savior. Then I was back to the day it all began. This time, Isabella lunged for the white egg first, afraid I'd take it. I slung my worn satchel of herbs over my shoulder. Turned my back on them both. "You can have them both," I said calmly. "I choose myself." This life, I swore I would have nothing to do with Adrian. But now, he's the one filled with regret, willing to give his own life just to have me look at him one more time.

I'm the type who has the urge to overshare my life with him. It can be anything, be it the flowers blooming by the side of the road, the unpleasant coffee I end up having, or the sunset I've seen when I'm on my way home from work. Heck, when I think of Edwin Howell all of a sudden, I can't resist texting him at all. His replies are always short and perfunctory, though I suppose they count as a form of response from him. Hence, over the past six months, I've relied on these cold-sounding yet present replies to give me enough strength to deal with the engagement party, go wedding gown shopping, and choose the wedding venue all by myself. Somehow, I've managed to hang in there till the week before the wedding. But five days before the wedding, I discover an AI program that's installed within Edwin's computer. It can categorize every single sentence that I've sent to Edwin and extract the keywords. Then, it'll draft the most perfunctory responses that will never go wrong. If I miss Edwin, the AI will reply, "Mm-hmm." If I feel aggrieved, the AI will reply, "Got it." When I try to vent my frustrations to Edwin, the AI will reply, "Don't make such a big deal out of it." It turns out that Edwin isn't the one who has been responding to my need to overshare. The thing is, he has been texting another woman nonstop in another private chat. They talk about anything and everything under the sun, from exchanging simple good mornings and good nights to asking, "What are you having for lunch today?" and "Do you wanna go to the beach someday?" Finally, I realize that Edwin isn't the silent type who keeps his love in. If anything, he's the flashy type who will proclaim his love anywhere, anytime. It's just that… his love has never been mine to have. As for me, I've finally made up my mind to stop spending my life waiting for a response that will never come.

My computer suddenly froze. The next second, my sister, Josie Bennett, appeared on the screen, covered in blood. Her face was white with terror as she screamed, “Nina, help me!” I looked at the pack of entities behind her, and my heart lurched. How had she gotten into a horror game? And an S-rank instance, no less. I had no time to think. I teleported in immediately. The moment I arrived, I saw a girl stomping on Josie, yanking her hair as she looked down at her with smug contempt. “You little brat. Still trying to call for help? Do you even know whose turf this is? Once you cross me, nobody can save you.” The players beside her quickly chimed in. “Exactly. Winnie is the woman of the top guy in this game. If you want to make it out alive, you’d better learn your place.” I stopped in my tracks, stunned. The top guy’s woman? Wasn’t I the final boss of this horror game?

When Adriano Morelli realized I hadn’t submitted a single household request in three days, he called me himself for the first time in months. “Serafina,” he said, his voice smooth and patient, “the clinic has been cleared. Your file is back on priority. See? When you stop making things difficult and learn how this family works, I make sure you’re taken care of.” He always sounded the gentlest when he was reminding me who held the power. What he didn’t know was that by the time his name lit up my screen, the divorce papers were already drafted. From the outside, I had everything a woman could want: a guarded penthouse, a driver on call, designer clothes, and the last name of one of the most feared men in the city. But almost none of it was mine. The cards were monitored. Cash had to be approved. Staff took Viviana Costa’s orders before they ever listened to me. Even the wardrobe budget, my schedule, and access to the family office all ran through her hands. Adriano called it convenience. Three days ago, I was rushed into a private clinic, blood soaking through my dress, while a doctor told me there was still a chance to save the baby if the emergency deposit was paid immediately. I called Adriano until my hands shook. Viviana stalled the transfer. First there was no direct authorization. Then the amount was too large. Then Adriano was in a meeting and could not be disturbed over something that might not be serious. By the time the money came through, it was too late. The baby was gone. I had stayed with Adriano for two reasons: I loved him, and I believed that when it truly mattered, he would choose me. I was wrong about both. Our child died first. My marriage died with it.