Forehead Chain

What you don't understand from my words, huh, I said you are mine He angrily hit the wall behind her while she felt him squeeze her between him and the wall behind her - It's none of your business She screamed at him, ignoring the hurricanes in her stomach It is my business, you are mine, mine only, your body, your soul, your heart, all of you are mine, mine only, that every small part of your body belongs to me, every beat of your heart is based on my love, every breath you breathe is mine, don't try to escape from this because it is your destiny He said softly, placing his forehead on hers You are dreaming, I haven't forgotten yet that you are my killer. She looked at the ground before looking at his face I... I will accept your rejection of me, Alpha The king Alpha , the most powerful alpha in the world of the paranormal and the king of werewolves, the moon goddess cursed him because he rejected his mate and killed her while she was pregnant with his son, so the gods Sirin cursed him and his pack forever, and they were imprisoned in the world of darkness, and after a very long time by magic and the help of demons.. There is hope for the rejected luna that she will be reborn and will return.. Will she be able to forgive her mate who insulted her, refused her love, betrayed her with her sister, and ultimately killed her and her child?

"I believe we spoke on the phone today. I hope everything is in order?" As smooth in person as on the phone I turned and was met with the full force of his good looks. Just have me right now my inner wolf screamed. Dark rich hair, just long enough for a few curls to tease his forehead, coffee-coloured eyes, and olive skin. Several inches taller than me and was built like a Greek statue. Perfection. The crushing disappointment of his good looks hit me. He was definitely a shifter and therefore totally, immediately and forever off limits. Human’s just never look that good. Selene doesn't want a mate. She's ambitious, determined and independent. To end up shackled to a man who won't support her dreams like her sisters is her worst nightmare. The mate-bonds monthly heat, overwhelming lust-fuelled insanity terrifies her control-freak nature. Rocco doesn't want a mate either. Running a buzzing casino gives him ample opportunity to sleep with all the beautiful human women the city has to offer. Shifters are a hassle. Even beautiful, blonde haired wonders like Selene. Yet when their paths cross sparks fly. However the local Alpha loves taking proud women down a peg, his head Beta desires Selene and Rocco wants to kill them both. They are fighting against the very thing that may keep them alive as the cruelty of the pack's leadership turns against Selene. Her trick of hiding in a hotel and lying to her family every full moon can only last for so long...

Shawn Hansen, Wigston's most notorious playboy, always has a thing for dazzling women. This time, his eyes are set on Carrie Myers, my fiance Harvey Anderson's close friend. And now, he decides to marry her on the same day as my wedding. When I go to Harvey to discuss the wedding details, I walk in on him holding Carrie and promising, "Don't worry. I'll marry you. Our churches are side by side, and with your face hidden under the veil, I'll swap you in for her. No one will ever notice." Carrie sobbed, her voice filled with concern. "Angelina is clever. She will undoubtedly notice something is wrong." He kisses her forehead gently and comforts her, "I'll drug her so she won't be able to think straight or resist." Only then does she relax, yet she asks curiously, "You really don't mind letting her marry Shawn?" Harvey thinks seriously before replying, "I love you and must marry you first. Shawn is my good friend, so even if he marries her, he wouldn't touch her. I'll bring her back once he realizes the bride has been switched. By then, the two of you can serve me together." I can't bear to listen any longer, and I turn to leave with a broken heart. Despite the sorrow, I am determined to become Shawn's wife.

Anastasia Kain and I were childhood sweethearts, but we resented each other for a lifetime. She blamed me for making decisions without her consent. I had awakened her memories and driven her first love to jump off a building. I blamed her for breaking her promise. She once swore she would love me forever, yet after losing her memory, she fell for someone else. We were married, but we lived like strangers who happened to share a roof. However, when I was diagnosed with ALS and the whole city urged her to divorce me, Anastasia carried me on her back and climbed 3,000 steps to reach a cathedral, praying day and night just for me to live a little longer. When the end finally came, she stayed beside my hospital bed all night, her forehead pressed gently against my cheek. In a trembling whisper, she said, "Mason, I've done everything I could for you in this life. If there's a next one, please don't make me remember again. Let me be with him." Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes. Only then did I realize I should never have chained her to me with the love we shared in our youth. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I first found Anastasia. This time, I chose to let her memories stay buried so that the girl I loved could run freely toward the man she had always wanted.

My husband had a severe addiction for physical intimacy. However, in the seven years of our marriage, he never touched me, not even once. To suppress his urges, he soaked himself in bone-chilling ice water every night. His arms were covered in needle marks from constant injections. It broke my heart to see him like that. I offered myself to him many times, but he insisted on simply giving me a restrained kiss on the forehead before saying, “Don’t be silly, Summer. I’m not like those animals. How could I ever bear to hurt you? For you, I’d gladly live the rest of my life in a platonic marriage.” This strange, almost obsessive restraint of his lasted seven years. Despite the numerous times he pushed himself far enough to end up hospitalized, he still refused to cross that line. Then, on our wedding anniversary, a young woman named Anna Brandt came in for her ninth hymen restoration surgery. After the anesthetic was administered, her cheeks flushed red. As her mind grew hazy, she started crying weakly like a lost kitten. Looking at the love bites scattered across her body, I shook my head and assumed she was just another girl who had gone astray. That was until I heard her last tearful whisper. “John Shaw, you jerk.” My hand trembled and I nearly dropped the scalpel. Because my husband’s name also was John Shaw.

*synopsis* "What is that?" he asked, pretending he didn't know. "The lingerie," I replied through gritted teeth, my eyes locked with his. "Wear it!" he commanded, his voice low and husky, his eyes gleaming with a mischief. I felt a shiver run down my spine as his grip on my waist tightened. What was wrong with him? "Now?" I asked to be sure I wasn't over thinking. "Yes," he answered defiantly. Beads of sweat instantly gathered on my forehead and I broke my eyes away from his, feeling embarrassed. "You realize I don't like repeating myself, right," he whispered, his lips moving sensually to my nape. He released my waist and I instinctively moved backwards to create some space between us. He followed me and before I knew it, I was pinned to the wall, his lips kissing my neck. ___________________ Melissa Wood had found herself in the hands of the man whom her father owed a debt. Williams had taken her hostage, when her father couldn't repay. In captivity, Melissa was mistreated and demeaned by Williams. She felt anger, humiliation and insulted as a human. But she soon became confused after she became entangled with her captor, and began to develop conflicting feelings. What would be her fate when the cruel williams learns about her feelings? Would he welcome it or would more hell break lose for her?

Four days after my death, my four-year-old daughter finally sensed that something was terribly wrong. The fridge door slammed into her forehead when she tried to get a snack. Normally, I would've been there in a heartbeat—arms open, kisses ready, whispering, "You're okay, sweetheart, Mommy's here." But this time, I just lay on the bed, cold and still.​ She didn't understand. She thought the sweet treat would make me respond. So she held the final piece of chocolate up to my mouth. "Here, Mommy. Have some chocolate..." But I didn't even blink. She climbed into my arms, clutching my clothes tightly. "Mommy... Mommy, wake up..." She waited for me to stroke her hair, to tell her that everything was going to be fine. There was only silence.​ Completely lost and scared, she found my phone. "Daddy, why is Mommy still sleeping?" she asked, her voice filled with desperation.​ In response, Oliver sent a photo of himself having Christmas Eve dinner with his childhood sweetheart. His voice was icy cold when he replied, "She's just sleeping, not dead. It's Christmas Eve, and I'm busy. Tell her to stop playing games and come apologize when she's done sulking." Then he hung up.​ But when the truth finally hit Oliver—when the coroner's report came, when the police knocked on his door right in the middle of his laughter, when he realized I'd been lying dead for four days while he toasted—he broke.

We had been married for three years, yet my husband, Richard Thornton, who suffered from touch deprivation syndrome, still refused to consummate our marriage. Every time his condition flared up, he would only press his forehead tightly against the curve of my neck. I assumed he was saving himself for his first love, the woman who had left years ago. Then, I overheard him talking to his friends. "Stop teasing her next time. It makes her tense up every time." "Got it, Richard. But if you care about Valeria so much, why won't you touch her? It's been three years. Aren't you worried she'll leave you for someone else?" Richard shook his head. "You don't understand. The longer we're together, the harder it is to control myself around her. She's so delicate. I'm terrified I'll hurt her. As long as she's mine, I wouldn't care even if she slept with someone else first." His friends burst out laughing. "Richard, you're all talk. If you could really handle her being with another man, you wouldn't keep running to the hospital. You think we don't know what you're up to?" The next day, I found Richard's medical records. Visit after visit, he kept asking the same question, "How can I be gentler in bed? I don't want to hurt the woman I love."

“Desmond,” I breathed out, “don’t.” But he didn't listen to my plea. His lips found my neck, his teeth gently grazing the frantic pulse that betrayed my panic. My skin instantly lit up beneath his mouth, a complete traitor to my mind. When his hand slid lower, tugging at the drawstring of my skirt, a terrifying mix of panic and deep heat crashed together inside me. “Desmond, please. This is wrong.” “Nothing about you has ever been wrong to me,” he growled out against my throat. Clothes instantly fell away as if they had never mattered. My shirt. His shirt. My skirt. The last threads of my will to fight. He settled heavily between my thighs, a burning hot weight. I felt him hard against me, thick and urgently insistent. My breath hitched sharply when the blunt head of his cock nudged my entrance. “Tell me to stop, Ana,” he said, his voice ragged, his eyes desperately locked on mine. “Say the word, and I will immediately.” I opened my mouth to speak. No sound escaped. He pushed in, moving with agonizing slowness, stretching me open inch by painful inch. A broken, strangled sound left my throat as he filled me completely, buried deep to the hilt inside my most intimate space. My inner walls instantly clenched around him, shocked, aching, and intensely alive. He stilled his movement, letting me fully register every powerful throb of him inside me. “Fuck, Ana,” he groaned, his forehead dropping to mine. “You feel completely like mine.” Then, he moved again.

In the heart of England's urban sprawl and amidst the serene landscapes of rural Poland, a tale of forbidden love, ancient curses, and relentless evil unfolds. Alpha Cyrus Moon, shrouded in mystery and scarred by tragedy, leads the formidable Bloodmoon Tribe with an iron fist, haunted by visions of loss and the memory of his slain Luna. Enter Baelakis Dnanik, an unwitting pawn in the schemes of the ruthless Nightshade, whose abduction sets into motion a chain of events that will challenge the very fabric of fate itself. Unaware of her true heritage and latent powers, Baelakis finds herself drawn to the enigmatic Alpha, their destinies intertwined in ways neither could have foreseen. As love blooms amidst the shadows of past grief, secrets unravel and alliances are tested. With Nightshade's dark influence looming ever closer, Cyrus and his loyal pack must confront their deepest fears and darkest desires to protect their own. Amidst the moonlit nights and whispered secrets, "Why the Moon Roars" is a gripping tale of love, loss, and redemption, where the howls of the werewolves echo the struggles of the human heart. Will Cyrus and Baelakis defy the odds and carve out their own destiny, or will the shadows of the past consume them both?