I'm Still Here Lyrics Novels & Stories

On the night Aria Valery was supposed to celebrate her engagement, she walked in on the man she thought was her fated mate buried inside another woman. Her best friend. Shattered, humiliated, and drunk on heartbreak, she stumbled into the path of Damian Storm, billionaire tycoon, ruthless Lycan chief, and the most dangerous playboy in the supernatural world. He was everything her mate wasn’t. Older. Colder. Sinfully irresistible. The kind of man who never touched the same woman twice… until her. What began as one night of reckless revenge spiraled into an obsession neither of them could escape. But Damian Storm doesn’t just break rules, he rewrites them. And being desired by him comes with a price. Her family is marked by the Council. Her father has been dragged away by Gammas. Her cheating mate refuses to release their bond. And Damian? He’s a man who swore never to love again, yet can’t stop claiming her like she was always meant to be his. Between betrayal, forbidden lust, and a prophecy that could tear the Lycan race apart, Aria must choose: walk away from the most dangerous man alive… or risk burning with him. Because once Damian Storm has tasted you, he doesn’t let go. Not even fate can save you. But now, her cheating fated mate who hates her, won't still let her go as well.

Contains strong language: My parents died, my sister died, my brothers left, and I was left to a man who thought we were pawns in his play. You know the type of people who say "it gets better" they're lying to you, because it just keeps getting worse. How the hell did I end up in a gang? Well, this is that story

I'm just a regular human being, and yet I've ended up signing a soul-bond contract with Erik Pendragon, the Frost Dragon King. Due to my lowly status, Erik refuses to let me attend the festival that we're supposed to show up at. So far, I've organized 18 grand festivals for Erik, and yet I'm forced to hide in the shadows. But somehow, Erik agrees to let me attend the 19th festival as the Dragon Queen. Of course, I'm excited to no end. I even go to great lengths to doll myself up, only to see Erik holding hands with another human woman named Clara Beech. The memory montage, which I've put hard work into making, has been replaced by a lovey-dovey montage featuring Erik and Clara. After Erik slips the ring that symbolizes the Dragon Queen's status onto Clara's finger, he turns to look at me in disdain. "Our Dragon Queen needs to be acknowledged by everyone in the clan. It's not like you have an official title anyway, Aurora. To top it off, Clara had received everyone's acknowledgement far earlier than you, too. From today onward, she shall replace you as the Dragon Queen." All the dragons in the lobby are waiting to watch me go ballistic before descending into hysterics. But I'm not mad in the slightest. In fact, I feel a little relieved. After all, there are three days left before my three-year contract with Erik gets dissolved.

In the fifth month of my pregnancy, my husband brought back his first love, who was eight months pregnant and causing a stir about getting a divorce. I politely told him that pregnant women would influence each other, which wasn’t good for the child. Alex, however, smashed a water glass and said in disgust, "Sarah is depressed because of the divorce, and the only one she can rely on is me! Do you want her to die?" I felt nauseous and vomited, unable to sleep through the night, and my health worsened with each passing day. To make her happy, he filled the house with lilies. But he had forgotten that I was allergic to lilies and locked me in the room, saying, "Let’s see if you can get an allergic reaction if you can’t smell the lilies." I bled continuously, desperately calling him for help for both myself and the child, but he simply said that I was still early in the pregnancy and there wouldn’t be any problems. When the fetal movements stopped, I had completely given up. It was at that moment that he frantically pushed open the door.

In order to gather 500 thousand dollars for my blind girlfriend's surgical bills, I've accepted a delivery order that's meant for someone at a private racing club. The huge floor-to-ceiling monitor is currently playing the live footage of the champion who's won the racing tournament. Champagne bottles can be seen spraying everywhere as the audience cheers loudly for the victor. Soon, the champion takes off her helmet and shakes her head full of curls off her face. Strikingly beautiful features are revealed the next moment. Next to the champion stands her childhood friend, Lewis Ross. I feel my hands clenching around the plastic bag containing the food containers. The woman shown on the screen is none other than Evelyn Carter, my so-called blind girlfriend. "Why aren't you happy even though you've won the tournament, Evelyn? Are you missing that boyfriend of yours who's still working his ass off for money?" A familiar voice comes from the lounge. An amused yet malicious smirk is played on Evelyn's lips at the moment. "Why did you bring him up? Then again, it's thrilling, pretending to be blind and all. Whenever he changes his clothes at home, he does it right in front of me." Everyone around Evelyn begins roaring with cheers. "You're so lucky, Ms. Carter!" After taking a sip from her champagne glass, Evelyn responds in a flippant tone, "Lucky? He's so busy with work every day just to gather enough money for my surgical bills! That man doesn't have a single romantic cell in him—he's just as stiff as the stick up his ass!" A wave of laughter echoes from the crowd once again. Feeling as though my blood had turned to ice, I turn on my heel and begin walking out of the club. I can still hear Lewis' cheeky voice ringing out from behind me. "There are only three days left in our one-year bet, Evelyn. Don't tell me you really fell for your boyfriend!" Evelyn merely snorts in response. She drawls back, "Don't worry. I'll dump him in three days."

He wasn’t searching for love. He wasn’t ready for him. But some things—like family, and falling—happen when you least expect them. When Ezra Anderson's sister dies, he inherits three young children and a crumbling rural property he's nowhere near prepared for. Overwhelmed, heartbroken, and freshly dumped, Ezra turns to the one person he shouldn't: Sebastian Brown—the gentle, steady Omega child psychologist he once shared one reckless night with... and never dared to call back. Sebastian offers a safe harbor. Routine. Warm hands and a softer kind of strength Ezra didn’t know he craved. What starts as survival—two men building a life for three grieving kids—soon strains under the weight of something deeper. The Omega in Sebastian draws Ezra like gravity, making every glance burn and every touch linger. The lines between family and something more blur until Ezra can no longer pretend. One night becomes two. Secrets slip into routines. And somewhere between sneaking into beds at night and morning coffee, Ezra faces the one truth he swore he'd never have to: He might not be as straight, or as strong, as he thought. As his Alpha instincts pull him closer to Sebastian’s Omega warmth, the world outside keeps pressing in. Desire stops hiding. And when the outside world comes knocking, Ezra is forced to choose: Keep pretending... or hold on to the only thing that feels like home. SNEAK PEEK: “I’m not in love with you. I just… don’t know how to breathe when you’re not there.” - Ezra “I’m not gay. I’m just yours.” - Ezra “You keep saying you’re not mine… but you keep choosing me.” - Sebastian “You’re allowed to love me, you know.” - Sebastian NB: 18+ (Tissues highly recommended.)

On my 18th birthday, my stepmother, Sheila Coleman, teams up with her secret lover, William Lynch, to kill me in cold blood. After that, she carves my femur into a bone sculpture and presents it to my dad as a gift. Dad loves the sculpture to no end. Thanks to Sheila slandering me in the past, he doesn't give a damn about me at all, even after finding out that I've gone missing. In fact, he even declares that he wants to cut off all ties with me. "Don't bring that brat up in front of me from now on! I hope that she dies out there!" But when he finds out that I'm really dead, he goes crazy from remorse.

As I walk out of the emergency room, a woman rushes over to me. "You're a doctor, right? My son scraped his knee. Hurry up and come treat him!" I am about to explain, but she glares at me and questions indignantly, "Isn't a doctor supposed to save people? You have time to slack off, but you have no time to treat my son's wound. Is that it?" She grabs my collar and drags me toward the ward. I try to explain, "Ma'am, I’m not—" But she doesn't listen at all and slaps me across the face. "Not what? Are you blind? Can't you see my son is bleeding? Instead of helping my son, you treat those poor nobodies! If you keep delaying my son's treatment, I won't let you off! "Get on your knees and apologize to him right now! Otherwise, I'll file a complaint and have your license revoked!" I endure the sharp pain and struggle to lift my head. In my five years of practicing medicine, this is the first time I have ever been complained about by a living person. "It's not that I won't treat him. I am a forensic pathologist..."

I no longer deliver meals to my husband, Zachary Smith—the man who became the factory manager after receiving a scholarship that brought him to the city—since my rebirth. I even make sure to detour using the gate at the factory's north side whenever he uses the southern gate after he finishes his meetings. In my past life, I was fully aware he took me as his wife—a humble country woman—just for the chance to move to the city. Yet, I insisted on becoming his wife, anyway. After all, I was convinced that a person's true affections could be earned and nurtured. Yet, Zachary maintained a constant, formal distance throughout our marriage. He would simply offer me a book the moment I attempted to bridge the gap, saying, "You should study more so that you don't continually attract people's contempt." I got emboldened by the drink as I threw my arms around him, yet he merely accepted the embrace rigidly, whispering, "It's just what married couples do." It wasn't until decades later, as I lay on my deathbed, that I discovered the heartbreaking words in his autobiography. In it, he stated that our entire marriage was like being trapped in a mire and that he never wanted to be with me again if he were to ever be reborn. I felt a searing pain tearing through my heart as I closed my eyes in devastating anguish. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back at the point in time when the gossip about Zachary and Juliana Ziegler, the factory's technician who studied abroad, first began to spread. In this life, I choose not to fight or cause drama. Instead, I am the one who brings up the divorce.

My husband and his employees went on a camping trip, and his assistant posted on social media. [We drew lots for the tents, and guess who ended up with the handsome CEO!] The post showed a selfie she took. Behind her, my husband was taking his shirt off. Someone left a comment. [A man and a woman alone together? Sounds juicy.] The assistant quickly replied with a smirking emoji. [I like a little excitement!] After I liked the post, it was deleted right away. Soon, my husband called me on video. In front of his crying assistant and several employees, he scolded, “Why did you like the post?! It was just a game! Don’t be so close-minded!” As I watched him hold the assistant in arms and comforted her, I quietly hung up. After ten years of loving Caelan Sullivan, I decided then and there to let go.