He's Coming To Me

Having been reborn, this time around, I look straight at Arthur Thorne and choose to break our mate bond. Lilian Wilder, the she-wolf he's been seeing on the side, is carrying his pup. To let her pup become his heir, he pleads with me to step aside and make room for her. "Lilian saved my life before. I can't let her and my pup live on the outside as rogue wolves. You'll help me, right? Once my heir is born, I'll bring you back." Back when Arthur had been besieged by the Silvermoon pack, Lilian betrayed her pack and rescued him. Having survived the attack, he became the Alpha, but Lilian got chased out of her pack. Ever since then, he'd been looking after her and would leave the pack from time to time to accompany her. In my previous lifetime, I'd adamantly refused to break our mate bond. However, in order to let his precious Lilian become his Luna, Arthur poisoned me with wolfsbane himself, subjecting me to endless torment. Unable to bear the pain any longer, I chose to break our mate bond. Lilian stared at me mockingly and said, "It's just a bit of wolfsbane. Why are you acting like it's torture? And don't tell me you're going to slander me by saying I did it!" Arthur didn't want to let the love of his life suffer in any way. So, he dragged me right to the burial grounds and watched as I bled to death. Now that I've been reborn, I'm not going to let myself be at anyone's mercy again!

I supported Ethan Mitchell and loved him for eight whole years. I thought I concealed my feelings well, but little did I know that after Ethan became a business magnate, the first thing he did was send me to a ladies’ finishing academy. He looked at me coldly, his arms wrapped around his fiancée. "When you've rid yourself of those filthy thoughts, then you can come out." A year later, I finally forgot him completely. However, Ethan came to regret everything.

"I’m a good girl—until I got drunk in Vegas and married a panties-flaming-hot Irishman. Oops. I’ve always lived my life by the rules. Unlike my two sisters, I’m the good one. The responsible one. Going outside my comfort zone is when I wear red lipstick before five PM. That comfort zone of mine? It’s smashed to smithereens on a wild night in Las Vegas when I met—and married—Liam Gallagher. After one shot of tequila, then two, then too many to count, a good girl’s rules tend to disappear. And so do her panties, and her bra, and various other articles of clothing when she’s with an Irishman who knows his way around a woman’s body. Now my husband wants us to stay married. For six months. He says it’ll be worth my while. Considering our chemistry underneath the sheets, I can’t say that he’s wrong. Liam isn’t safe, though. Liam definitely isn’t comfortable. He’s like the male equivalent of wearing red lipstick in the daytime all wrapped up in an irresistible, dangerous package. Yet this stubborn Irishman isn’t about to let me go, drunken Princess Bride-themed Vegas wedding or no. Now I have to decide if I’m brave enough to break the rules for love."

My billionaire husband suffered from chronic insomnia for years. Only the sleep balm I made could help him sleep. On the night of our seventh wedding anniversary, his childhood sweetheart poured a basin of scalding water over the old camphor tree in our garden. I wept and tried to save the tree as she apologized, “I didn’t know you used its leaves to make the sleep balm.” My husband gently comforted her and ordered his men to tie me to the tree trunk instead. “What a precious tree. You’ll spend the rest of your days with it!” With my wrist fractured as a result, I filed for divorce immediately. A month later, my husband was unable to sleep late one night. He stood in the garden and stared at the withered camphor tree.

For five years, I was married to the heir of the Romano family, Italy's biggest crime family. Every night, he'd hold me and whisper, "Just give me an heir, and I'll give him the entire Romano empire." But I never got pregnant, and the Don's disappointment in me grew with every passing month. Until I found out my husband had been secretly swapping my folic acid for birth control pills. I was still reeling from the fury when I saw a post from his ex-girlfriend: an ultrasound photo. Her caption was sweet and smug: “Ten weeks along. Vincent said he can’t wait to meet the baby.” Seeing the flood of congratulations, my mind was made up. I found the contact info for my ex-boyfriend—the one who’d spent the last five years trying to get me back. I sent him a single text. 【Give me one month. Then I’m coming with you.】

A doomsday blizzard hit just before Christmas. The zombie virus exploded. Our fortress was a top-tier ski resort. Now, it was about to fall. My husband, Ethan, was a former Navy SEAL. Our head of security. He swore his defense system was foolproof. The blizzard knocked out the power. But he’d sent all the backup generator fuel to the summit. Just to light up a Christmas tree for Chloe. He even had a few guards up there with them, throwing a party. In my last life, I fought him. I herded everyone into the last bunker. But Chloe whined. A crowded Christmas was boring, she said. She stormed out of the safe room and ran right into the jaws of the horde. Ethan carved a path through the horde to secure the walls. Then he sat in silence, cradling Chloe’s bones. He pretended he wanted to start over with me. He let me get pregnant with his child. The day I gave birth, he knocked me unconscious and dumped me into a nearby zombie nest. He always rescued me just before I died. He’d inject me with a serum that kept me from turning. Nineteen times, he threw me to the zombies. I died in agony as they tore the flesh from my bones. "If you hadn't sabotaged my defenses," he’d hissed, "if you hadn't crashed our party and led the horde right to us, Chloe would still be alive!" I opened my eyes. I was back. Christmas Eve.

I had cancer. And Carl—my boyfriend of seven years—ditched me at the hospital to play fake boyfriend for his so-called best friend, just so she could dodge her parents' marriage pressure. When the results came in, I broke down. Clutching the report, I sobbed as I called him. "Carl, I... I..." My voice cracked. I didn't even know how to say it. I thought he'd comfort me. Instead, his voice came sharp through the phone. "Can you not? Mia's just a friend. What's so wrong about me helping her?—do you have to be so dramatic? I already promised to marry you this month. What more do you want?"

I spend a decade as the woman behind Corey Larson. I help him save his company from the brink of bankruptcy and turn it into a public-listed company. He's on the cusp of success, and I'm about to propose to him. That's when he brings his childhood sweetheart into the picture to take my place. He thanks me for my decade of hard work. Then, he tells me I'm no longer a good fit for the company as it's about to embark on a new journey. I stare at him. I've loved him for ten years and given him my everything, but he brushes me off with a bank card. My blood turns to ice. The decade I've spent with him has ultimately gone down the drain. He doesn't seem to realize the consequences, though. Once I quit and leave, his company will cease to exist… just like my love for him.

I'm not only ugly, I'm an idiot. Because, tell me, why would I think that the hottest guy at school would be interested in me? To make it even worse, he was dating my sister. My sister was perfect. She was the golden daughter—perfect at everything, beautiful. So why would I, in my right mind, think that Damien Salvatore would be interested in an ugly duckling like me? That was my first mistake. *** I couldn't believe Damien had just said that to me. Damien wanted me.... Me!? Inner squeal. He cupped my face and kissed me fiercely, catching me by surprise. My body sprang to life, answering to the need in his kiss until it became more, heated, too much. I tore away from him, shaking my head, even as my body throbbed with desire. “Wait...” Why was I stopping this? Am I an idiot? I have dreamt About this since forever.... I have never wanted anything so bad in my life. "Don't you want to kiss me??" He rasped out.

I vowed to transfer schools with my childhood friend when he claimed he was being bullied. But the day before we were to finalize the transfer, he backed out. His friend teased him. "Man, you faked being a punching bag just to get rid of Alice Wiley? That's cold. You two have been thick as thieves since forever. Are you really cool with her going to a new school alone?" Shane Page brushed it off. "It's just another high school across town. Not a big deal. I'm tired of her always being up my ass. This works out perfectly." I stood frozen outside the door for a long time. Finally, I turned and walked away. On the transfer form, I crossed out Oatheport High and filled in the international academy my parents had been pushing for. Everyone seemed to forget that Shane and I were never equals.