Ichigo Kurosaki Half Hollow

On the day of my wedding anniversary, I was cleaning my house when I found a picture album. As it turned out, my husband had been religiously taking pictures with the girl of his dreams every year on this precise date. He had been doing it since he was forty years old and he was now sixty years old. His hair had progressed from a jet black to a faded white and yet, he kept up the tradition. There was a written message in his handwriting at the back of the picture that read, “Eternal Love.” Since he doesn't love me, I will no longer bother washing his clothes and cooking for him. I will no longer care for his children and grandchildren. I may have foolishly wasted half of my life, but it was not too late to make a change.

Aubrey Castile is the "stray" of the BloodMoon Beta family, living in the shadows of her cruel half sister, Eileen. After a devastating betrayal, Aubrey spends one wild, nameless night with a powerful stranger—only to wake up pregnant with a forbidden heir. She’s ready to run away to protect her pup, but her plans shatter at her sister's engagement party. The groom is Travis Thorne, the coldest Alpha in the north—and the man from her one-night stand. In front of the entire pack, Travis rejects Eileen and points to the girl in the shadows. "I’m not marrying her. I’m taking Aubrey, because she’s carrying my child." Now, the unwanted daughter is the Alpha’s Mate. But in a world of pack wars and family secrets, can she survive being the woman he chose?

My cousin stole my fiancé's suppressant on the night of the full moon — just to test how much he loved her. Then she locked me in a room with him while he was out of his mind with pain. Watching Adrian writhe in agony, I wrapped my trembling arms around him and let him mark me. My cousin was devastated. She married the brutal Alpha of the neighboring pack in a fit of spite. When Adrian found out I was pregnant, he had no choice but to make me his Luna. But in five years of marriage, he never once came to see me or our son. After rogues kidnapped us, I thought he'd finally let us go. Instead, he shifted and fought to bring us back — only to die alongside those rogue wolves. I held his bloodied body and watched the light drain from his eyes. With his last breath, he gripped my hand: "Stop saving me! I regret everything… I never needed you to save me…" My heart shattered. Cold wind tore through the hollow in my chest until I couldn't stop shaking, and the world went dark. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that full moon night — five years in the past.

She’s not looking for trouble;just a drink to forget her own name. But when her eyes meet his across the dim bar, something dangerous sparks. He doesn’t move nor chase. He simply waits, dark and still, like a predator certain of his prey. One word from his lips—kneel—and her body betrays every pretense. She’s on her knees before she can think, heat pooling, control shattering. He calls her what she is: desperate,needy and his. He doesn’t ask...He takes her mouth,her surrender. The brutal stretch of him filling every hollow she didn’t know she had. He fucks her like he owns her, and God help her, she wants to be owned. When it’s over,after he’s wrung the last broken plea from her lips,he pulls her close, whispers against her sweat-slick temple. Daddy’s just getting started. She should run. Instead, she stays. And begs for more. ********* A dark, intoxicating taste of power and surrender. For readers who like their romance rough, raw, and completely consuming erotica novels. This for you!❤️🍓

A lethal neurotoxin had taken hold of my lungs. My time is running out. My mother, Sofia, was the most connected lawyer in Palermo, excelling in burying crimes and twisting the law. When my brother Vincent mowed me down and shattered my leg, she called in every favor to clear his record. My father, Tommaso, the most feared private doctor in Sicily, faked my medical files, branding me unstable and delusional, all to mold me into the obedient son they needed. Then there was Lina, only daughter of Don Vitali, my wife. She said, “We let him out for Vincent’s liver. What if he says no?” Dad’s voice went cold. “He has two choices: lie quietly on that operating table… or waste away in the sanatorium for what’s left of his life.” I pushed the parlor door open, steady and slow. My voice was flat. “I’ll do it.” Every one of them let out a breath they’d been holding, showering me with hollow words. They didn’t know there was no life left to threaten. I had twenty-four hours. By sunrise, I would be dead either way. Funny… now that I’m in the ground, why are they all crying?

I fell for Don Lorenzo Moretti the second I saw him. Hard. As a mafia princess, I wasn't supposed to chase anyone. But for him, I swallowed my pride and made him my mission. A year later, he finally had me, pinning me to the bed as he moved inside me. His eyes were pure fire, and in that mo ment, they saw only me. For ten years, we were electric. We fucked in five-star hotels all over the world. We just fit. I was his lucky charm at the poker table. I took shots for him until I bled from my stomach. I even took a bullet for him. Then came our engagement party. Lorenzo left me standing there alone. Said something "came up." I went back to our apartment, only to find him kissing my stepsister, Juliana. That’s when I knew. He had always loved her. I was just a stand-in. He tried to explain, words tumbling out in a panicked rush, promising a bigger, better party to make up for it. A laugh, cold and hollow, died in my throat. I turned my back on him, pulled out my phone, and called my mother in Sicily. "I'll marry into the Romano family."

She belongs to a wolf. She's married to the hunter. To the world, Elira Malven is the villainess who stole a princess's betrothed. But her gilded marriage to the legendary war hero, Kael Rennar, is a cage, and her husband has a deadly secret: he is a Wolfhunter, the sworn enemy of her kind. “Why?” The word was a crack in her composure. “Why did you push for this marriage? What do you want from me?” He didn’t turn. A faint, hollow smile touched his lips. “I don’t know why I insisted,” his voice was barely a breath. “I don’t know why I didn’t kill you the moment I suspected what you are.” Her only hope seems to lie with Thane, her true mate, whose touch awakens a primal bond in a dusty library. But he is the one who shattered her heart. “Then why leave?” she asked, raw and painful. “After I begged you—” “Because I was protecting you!” The words tore from him. “You were nobility. The Wolfkiller's wife. And I— I was nobody.” Torn between a hunter haunted by his mercy and a mate haunted by his sacrifice, Elira must choose: remain in a marriage built on a tragic mystery, or risk a love that demands a price neither of them may survive.

When I steal the cheer captain, Cora Knightley's, number one spot in our grade, her childhood sweetheart—an Alpha heir—confesses his love to me the next day. Flashing me a mesmerizing smile, Raymond Knox says, "Join my world and relish the ultimate freedom and recklessness, will you?" Of course, my answer is… yes. I agree, sealing his lips with a passionate kiss. My grades start dropping, until I eventually become one of his kind. At the same time, his body belongs to me. We can't keep our hands off each other. But despite the countless intimate moments we share, he never seems to enjoy kissing me—until the entrance exam for Lycanshire University is finally over. That's when he kisses me and seduces my wolf, luring me to go to Mangy Hollow Community College with him. So this has been his goal all along. But I'd known it since the start. Gently slapping my Lycanshire University admission letter against Raymond's face, I say, "Being with you this year has been fun. I'm very satisfied. "But my future matters more. Let's break up."

Our daughter, Luna Woods, developed a high fever. Her body was burning hot. I immediately dialed 911 for help. The dispatcher on the other end kept repeating his questions. He spoke slowly, as if deliberately stalling for time. By the time I finally heard the ambulance siren, Luna was already turning cold in my arms. In less than a year, my wife and I separated. We were consumed by endless grief and blamed for each other. Afterward, I merely existed for the sake of it. I was a hollow shell of a man. Then, one day, I received a wedding invitation from my ex-wife. The moment I played the audio invitation, a chill ran down my spine. The groom’s voice was identical to that of the slow, dawdling dispatcher from that year! I rushed out, utterly distraught, only to be hit by a roaring train. When I opened my eyes again, I heard Luna crying in the next room. Her forehead was burning hot. My wife hurriedly handed me the phone. “Quick, call 911! I’ll get a wet towel.” My hands trembled as I took the phone. When it was answered, I heard a familiar male voice through the receiver. “911, what’s your emergency?”

When I was seven, my father brought home a beautiful lady who gave me a mango. That day, my mother watched me happily eating the mango while she signed her name on the divorce papers. After that, she jumped off the roof of our building. From then on, mangoes became the nightmare of my life. So on my wedding day, I told my husband, Alan Holt, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." Alan pulled me into his arms, quiet. From then on, mangoes became off-limits for him, too. On Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Alan's childhood sweetheart, Larissa Fennimore, left a mango on his desk at the office. The very same day, Alan announced he was cutting ties with Larissa and fired her from the company. That day, I truly believed he was the man I was meant to be with. Half a year later, I flew back from overseas, having just closed a partnership deal worth about 200 million dollars. At the celebration dinner, Alan handed me a drink. After I had finished half the glass, his so-called childhood sweetheart, the woman who had been kicked out of the company, stood behind me with a big grin and asked, "Does the mango juice taste good?" I stared at Alan in disbelief, and he was trying hard not to laugh. "Don't be mad. Larissa insisted I played a little joke on you. I didn't actually give you a mango; I just gave you a bottle of mango juice. But I think she's right. The fact that you don't eat mangoes is a real problem. You were really enjoying that juice just now." My face went cold. I lifted my hand and threw the rest of the mango juice in his face, then turned around and walked away. Some things are never a joke. I wouldn't kid around with mangoes or divorce.