Gojo Laugh

I was Alpha Adrian's secret for eight years. It took his grandfather’s centennial birthday for him to finally bring our son, Gale, and me home to the pack. He swore the pack Elders had finally given us their blessing. Our son, buzzing with excitement, bounced on the bed, clutching the champion’s medal from his junior fighting tournament. He’d fought tooth and nail to win it, just to make his father proud. But the moment we set foot on the Blackwood Manor grounds, we saw him. Adrian, with his arms wrapped around a blonde she-wolf, kissing her deeply. Adrian introduced her with a smile. "My mate, Sophia" Our son, Gale, rushed forward to confront him, stabbing a finger toward the seemingly perfect bite mark on my neck. "That's the mark Dad gave Mom! You all see it!" But the pack’s Head Elder stepped forward. After a cursory glance, he let out a cold sneer. "A clever trick of blood magic," he said with contempt. "It can mimic a scent, but it lacks the soul-deep connection of a true mate bond. Any experienced wolf can see through it." I turned to Adrian, my body frozen stiff. He turned away from me, gently stroking the real mark on Sophia's neck, which glowed with a silvery, moonlit light. "The Blackwood pack will not accept a half-blood who can’t even shift" he said. "The only one fit to stand by my side is Sophia." I looked at him, and a bitter laugh escaped me. To think I had suppressed my own Royal Alpha blood for a man like this.

Every Thanksgiving, my husband, Salvatore, brings home a showgirl from one of his clubs. He makes me kneel and serve them drinks. A lesson, he calls it, in how to please a man. This was the eighth Thanksgiving, and this time, he brought back a girl poured into a tight leather dress. "She doesn't have any decent jewelry," Salvatore announced. "Give her your heirloom diamond ring. Your grandmother's pearl earrings, too. And take off that silk choker for her." He smirked. "And listen, she's young, doesn't know the rules. You'll have to show her the ropes. Especially how to handle a man in bed." Every member of the Genovese family was watching, waiting for my humiliation. I didn't disappoint. I opened my mouth and asked Salvatore for a divorce. Salvatore let out a sharp, ugly laugh, his eyes full of contempt. "Francesca, you pull this same shit every time," he jeered. "Your act is pathetic. Even more dramatic than your performance in bed." He leaned in. "You really want to divorce me? Fine. I'll give you five million in cash if you actually walk out that door." The living room erupted in laughter. They all said I was playing hard to get, that I didn't know my place. But they didn't know. This was the 88th time I had asked for a divorce, and it was the first time I truly meant it.

After being pushed down the stairs by my husband's first love, I suffered a difficult labor with our second child and died in a corner of their family's private hospital. Before I died, my six-year-old son cried and begged for his father to save me. The first time, Shawn sneered. "Your mom's gotten smarter, using you to play the victim and trick people." After that, he flung my son's hand away and left heartlessly. The second time, my son told him I was bleeding uncontrollably. Shawn was clearly impatient. "She's being so dramatic, it's just a miscarriage, nothing serious. She's always made mountains out of molehills!" After chasing my son away, he even told the doctors not to care for me. "It's my fault for spoiling her. She'll know what she did wrong once I let her have a hard time for a few days." The last time, my son went to my husband's first love Jasmine, kneeling in front of her and knocking his head on the ground, begging her. Shawn flew into a rage and ordered bodyguards to throw my battered and bruised son out of the hospital room, allowing others to laugh at his misfortune. "If you come bother Jasmine while she's resting again, I'll kick your mom out of our family! She'll never see you again!" My son crawled to my side, leaving behind a long trail of blood. And so, I laid there helplessly as I felt the warmth escape both my son and I. 'Are you happy now, Shawn? You'll never see us again.'

I live in my own world since I was young. Or should I say I closed the door from everyone. My family's brand was music, and I hate it. I became a girl who kept everything to herself and never voice out her opinion. Why would I? It's just a waste of breath, they will never listen to her anyway. Until I met a friend who opened my closed heart and let me know that living with someone was happier. My friend, my best friend, Layla. She becomes my light in my dark world. Everything she does, right or wrong, when she cried or laugh, I will always stay by her side. Yes, I'm a loyal friend. So I tried to help a certain good man that really loved her and could make her happier. But turns out I fell to that man. Hard. Head first. I kept it to myself not until I found out that my friend was in love with another man. Oh, how happy I am. But the problem is, this man clung hardly to my best friend. Oh, what will I gonna do? Should I seduce him? However another problem kept popping. This threats... Who made them? **** This is a story of second female lead of a certain love story being in love with the second male lead. It is not only romance, but also with a hint of a thrill.

By the fifth year of my marriage to Noah Lester, everyone insisted that I, Emma Newman, was his eternal muse. But I knew the truth. Behind my back, Noah cycled through a parade of fresh-faced, eager lovers. He even flaunted them at social gatherings, swapping one for another with shameless ease. When friends teased him—"Didn’t you swear Emma was the love of your life? Why the revolving door of mistresses?"—he’d just laugh, arms slung around his latest conquests. "Once you’ve caught your muse the glow fades. Give me someone new and tender any day—at least they keep things exciting." So I began plotting my escape. What Noah never realized was that I had grown tired of him, too. Tired of this life, of these performances. I was done.

She is a free spirit, trapped in a bird cage of death, danger and despair. Little Alessa has always known one thing above all- she was born to be the perfect Principessa of the Cosa Nostra, the Italian Mafia. She was urged to smile when asked to, laugh even when the jokes were anything but funny, charming to all who were allies. She was perfection incarnate...well, that's what they think. They know nothing of her wild abandon, of her plans to be anything but the perfect princess, royalty of a world dredged so deep in blood, she choked on it. Her plans to run were absolute...well, until HE came along. The mysterious Pakan-a Don like her father- shielded by the shadows that he ruled from. He was the anomaly that she least expected. He destroyed her plans and she hated him for it. So why then does her heart beat so fast when he is near? Why is he the one she thinks about before she sleeps? Why does she so long to see him when she's sad? She wanted the freedom, the life beyond the shadows and explore the world. But Emerald colored eyes, cocky smirks, rough hands, cigarettes and darkness were starting to look a little more appealing...

Quentin Yale gets together with me to get revenge on my mother. He grips my neck with one hand and keeps the other on my belly. Then, he snorts at Mom, who's pale. "Do you see this? Your precious daughter is pregnant with my child." I hear him laugh manically when Mom collapses. I stab myself in the belly as he watches. Then, I jump into the ocean. Later, he loses his mind. He tells everyone he comes across that I'm following him while carrying our child. When I see him at the asylum one last time, he lies on the bed and begs me not to leave.

Three years ago, Moon-Lake Pack — once a proud member of Lupus Celestial, the central pack alliance — lost everything in a brutal defeat to the Rogue Packs that had long plagued us. The Lycan King believed my father — the Alpha of Moon-Lake — had conspired with the Rogues, and our pack paid the price. My father and I were enslaved and cast out, becoming the laughingstock of all the packs. Even my mate, Chase, turned his back on me. But three years later, I was sent back to Lupus Celestial by Chase’s order — just as he was preparing to bond with his future Luna. Everyone assumed I had returned to sabotage the ceremony. “Taryn, do you still think you stand a chance of becoming his Luna?” “Chase never liked you. He’s always adored Wynette.” “Why would you show up now — just before he bonds with his mate?” Warnings, veiled threats, and even silent beatings made one thing painfully clear: I was not welcome. And Chase — the one I had once believed was my fated mate, the one I’d felt an unexplainable pull toward — stood by, cold and detached, watching it all in silence. His eyes held nothing but loathing. “You still think you can live freely outside Lupus Celestial after betraying us time and again? What exactly are you plotting at my bonding ceremony?” I let out a bitter laugh and wiped the blood from my lips. He didn’t know my wolf had been gravely wounded by a silver dagger — and I didn’t have much time left. “Don’t worry. If I hadn’t been dragged back, I’d never have returned. And if I truly wanted to cause trouble, I’d have killed myself first.” Chase didn’t respond. He just scoffed. But when I walked away — from his pack, from his world — he was the one who crumbled. He begged me to return, as if losing me shattered something deep inside him.

When Levi Ezra and I got married, he had solemnly vowed he would love me for a lifetime. Seven years later, he got another woman pregnant — a woman he had so carefully tucked away in a luxurious estate, complete with everything money could buy for a perfect, pampered delivery. By the time I discovered the truth, his mistress's belly was already round and heavy. Her due date was just around the corner. Levi had hesitated — for barely a second — before instinctively shielding her behind him, as though I were some threat. He said, "Nikki, you're terrified of childbirth. Now that this baby is coming, the Ezra family will finally have an heir. You won't have to suffer anymore. We'll still be the same as before. Nothing will change." I clutched the freshly issued pregnancy report in my hand — the one confirming my own child — and let out a laugh so sharp and brittle that it shattered into tears. The day his mistress went into labor, I terminated my pregnancy. I left the divorce papers on his desk, packed my bags, and boarded the first flight to a foreign land.

Stella and I are at a college party and man, it’s so bad ass. This is our first college party and Stella’sm first party ever. Are you having fun, sister? I ask her. Yes, I really am. My sister Stella is your quiet, stay to herself kind of gal. Where I am that loud in your face kind of girl. So, it’s not weird seeing a beer in my hands and dancing my ass off with my friends or my hot as hell boyfriend Jax. What’s weird is seeing my sister with a beer in hand and dancing to the music, getting her freak on with a strange guy. I’m glad my twin is letting her freak fly tonight. We are going to be seniors when school starts and damn; we need to make a name for ourselves. Being the quiet ass bitch is only going to get her picked on. Jax comes up behind me, moving his hips to the music. Want to go upstairs he asks after a minute of grinding against my ass. Um, yes, I do. I say, wiggling my ass against his front. I’m going to go upstairs with Jax for a bit. Do you think you will be okay while I’m gone? I ask Stella. She just gives me a look that says piss off, asshole. I throw up my hands in surrender. Okay, I say, wiggling my brows. Get it, girl. I tell Stella. Stella just smiles at me. Ditto sister, she says, wiggling her fingers at me. I laugh and grab my boyfriend’s hand and drag him upstairs. When we find a room upstairs, I slam Jax against the wall and kiss him fiercely. Damn baby, did you miss me? Jax asks, smiling.