Into The Storm Smith Novels & Stories

Three year after my death, my former mate returned— not to mourn me, but to make use of me one last time. It was the Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year—the night when wolves whispered to the dead. “Where’s Mira Thorne?” Rowan demanded as he strode downstairs into the tavern beneath the den. “Her lived here—Gavin’s sister. I need to find her.” Dorian, the tavern keeper, glanced up slowly. “Mira?” he repeated, wiping his hands on a cloth. “She’s gone, Doctor. Died three winters ago. Same night the Moon rose red.” Rowan’s brows knit. “Dead? That’s impossible. There’s no record.” Dorian’s voice softened. “The family from that healing case—remember them? They found her in the alley behind this inn. Tore her apart before dawn. The healers couldn’t even retrieve her wolf.” Rowan froze, a flicker of disbelief passing across his face before irritation took over. “No. She’s pretending. She’s doing this to make me feel guilty.” he said sharply. “She’s hiding. She always was weak. Tell her if her doesn’t come out within three days, I’ll stop sending money for brother’s treatment.” He turned abruptly and left, the tavern door slamming behind him. Dorian sighed after him., shaking his head. “brother? Her brother died before the healers even arrived… there was never any money for treatment.” The silence that followed was heavier than snow. Dorian watched the falling snow and murmured to the empty air, “No one pretends death, Doctor. Not when they’ve already lost everything.”

For five years, I let my husband’s mistress take whatever she wanted. My birthday. His time. His attention. The tenderness that used to belong to me. I even told myself I could survive watching my own son choose her over me, because a damaged family still had to be better than none at all. It wasn’t. This year, my husband took his mistress away for their birthday trip, and my son ran straight into her arms and called her Mom. That was the moment I finally understood something I should have learned five years ago: no matter how much of myself I gave to that family, I would never be the one they chose. So I filed for divorce. None of them believed I could really walk away. My husband thought I was bluffing. His mistress thought she had won. My son did not even look back. None of them believed I could really walk away. Then a call came from overseas: Matteo Bellandi’s wife was dead. This time, I left them with nothing but my ashes.

Eight months pregnant, I had every bank card frozen by my husband’s female secretary. Over the phone, she laughed coldly and said, “From now on, every cent you spend needs my approval. Jack works too hard to waste his money on a useless woman who only knows how to shop.” That same day, I was rushed to the hospital with contractions. Every card I tried was declined. And as if that wasn’t enough, she had also moved my parents out of their private senior suite and into the cheapest room available. Her reason? Two ordinary old people had no right to waste Jack’s money. I laughed. She had no idea those “ordinary old people” were the Don and Donna of the Bellandi family, the couple who had controlled Italy’s underworld for decades. She had no idea Jack’s company, his reputation, his fortune—everything he owned—had come from the Bellandi family. My parents had already planned to retire completely after my child was born. They were going to hand the entire family over to me. And to Jack. Too bad. Jack had allowed her to humiliate the only real power he would ever have the chance to stand beside. Three days later, Jack held a welcome party for his mysterious investor. In front of everyone, his secretary dialed the investor’s number. The next second, my phone rang.

I spent five years as Dominic Santoro’s wife in name only. Five years hidden behind closed doors, buried under his sheets, erased from his world. When he finally agreed to take me back to Chicago—to stand beside him, to be seen—I thought I had won. I bought a new dress. Soft. Elegant. Worthy of a Don’s woman. The night before we left, he looked at me through the mirror and said calmly, “Take the makeup off. Change into pants.” I asked why. He adjusted his cufflinks like I was nothing more than background noise. “Juliana Lancaster is back. Tonight is our engagement.” Russian Bratva. Lancaster blood. A marriage alliance. Seeing my silence, he laughed—careless, cruel. “What’s with that look? Didn’t we agree on this when we married? Brotherhood. Loyalty. No love.” Then he turned, eyes sharp and mocking. “Victoria Miller… you didn’t actually fall in love with me, did you?” I stood there, frozen. Because inside the inner pocket of his tailored suit— was my pregnancy report. And the Don of Chicago had no idea the woman he was about to sacrifice was carrying his heir.

Ava was born and termed a curse from birth, hated and rejected by everyone in the pack because her birth didn't only kill her mother at labour, but also took the life of her unborn twin brother. She was the daughter of the Alpha, but was treated as a slave with her royalty stripped off. It got worse when she turned 18, but never met her mate or harbored an inner wolf. She was a disappointment and a shame to the pack. When the Beta's daughter was abducted by the Alpha, she decided to torture Ava more by taking her to school to get berated and bullied by other students. Not knowing she was helping fate take it's course. ***** Jaden was the Lycan prince of the Oman kingdom, the smallest kingdom but the most powerful as they were all Lycans far stronger than the werewolves. Although he was handsome with extreme powers, special abilities and solid figures, his heart was dark and had no interest in love. His parents' attempts to find him his desired lady were all futile, but his visit to a werewolf pack changed everything. With her sapphire blue eyes, enthralling smile, and alluring smell, the bullied pretty slave girl piqued his interest and entire attention. She was a diamond covered in ashes. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew he had found her. His true mate. But just as their love was about to blossom, something that has a tendency to tear them apart struck. Jaden's dark past and Ava's true identity.... Secrets bound to turn their love to hatred.

She belongs to me... Just a glimpse and I knew she was MINE. She isn't like any other dominion girl I've met, I had not anticipated this need for her. I should have stayed away... Yet, I can't leave without her. There's a twisted, yearning, full of fear and anger inside me. For her... No one can stop me, from breaking her From making her mine... She belongs to me...

She thought she was a beta. Until she turned twenty-one. Her late presentation as an omega shatters everything she believed about her future. Overnight, the rules change. In a world where omegas aren’t allowed to live independently without an alpha sponsor, her family refuses to claim her, and the law gives her only one year before she’s reassigned to a guardian alpha she doesn’t choose. She refuses to let that happen. She’s smart, sharp-tongued, and has never waited for permission in her life. If the system demands an alpha, she’ll find one herself. A powerful one. A rich one. One who gives her security without taking her freedom. But alphas are a disappointment. The chemistry is wrong. The entitlement is worse. And then, on one reckless night, everything changes. A dark club. A stranger who radiates control. One encounter that leaves her body finally still… and an alpha who disappears before she can ask his name. When she secures a coveted internship at a corporation that temporarily sponsors unbonded omegas, she thinks she’s bought herself time. Until her first day puts her face-to-face with the man she can’t forget. Her CEO. Her alpha. And the last man who wants to bond. He doesn’t claim omegas. He doesn’t mix desire with obligation. And he refuses to become what the system expects of him. But she’s done being patient. If survival means seduction, she’ll do it on her terms. Even if he fights it. Even if the bond they’re resisting is inevitable.

My mother never believed me. To her, I was always just a lying pup. In my pack, every cub wore a Moon Oath Collar. Red meant you lied. White meant you told the truth. My sister’s collar always glowed a soft white. Even when she pretended to be sick to get out of an exam, her collar only gave off that gentle white light. Mine was different. Even when I was truly sick, my collar would burst into a violent red, and the punishment current would follow immediately. On my sister’s birthday, Mother prepared a bonfire feast for the whole pack. Just before they left, a splitting pain tore through my head, and I collapsed on the floor, begging her to help me. For one second, she almost picked me up. Then my collar flashed red. “To ruin your sister’s birthday, you’re even pretending to die? What a vicious child.” Then she walked out with my sister and left me alone on the floor. I died alone on the cold floor. But when I opened my eyes again, I was no longer inside my body. My soul drifted after my mother as I whispered the truth she had never believed. “Mom… I wasn’t lying. I really died.” And when they finally found my body, the red collar on my neck was still flashing.

My mate bond with Alpha Ronan of the Blackthorne Pack had failed thirty-two times. I thought the Moon Goddess did not bless us. I thought if I endured a little longer, loved him a little harder, the next time would finally work. Until the thirty-third rite. Then the fire swallowed me whole. When I woke in the healers’ hall, my body was broken, my Moonborn Core was damaged. Only then did I hear Ronan speaking to his Beta outside the door. “If you love Selene that much, then sever the claim with Elara. The Blackthorne Pack can silence any rumor. Why keep staging accidents?” “She almost died,” his Beta said. “Ten years ago, the Alpha of Nightvale and his mate died saving me. This bond is how I repay that debt.” “I never wanted Nightvale’s bloodline chained to mine.” “The woman I love is Selene.” That was when I finally understood. The Moon Goddess had never rejected us. Ronan had. He saw my parents’ sacrifice as a chain around his neck. He saw Nightvale’s Moonborn bloodline as a cage built to trap him. And he would never know— the fire he arranged had already taken the child I carried. The true black-core heir Blackthorne had waited generations for. If Ronan hated this bond so much, I would give him what he wanted. I would sever the claim myself.

Tatum was just building her business when a tall, dark and handsome man walked in, needing his bike tuned up. Even though she tuned up his bike, he tuned up her life even more. Maddox staked his claim, making Tatum more desirable in the eyes of their retreating ally. Even though Tatum values the Mate bond, not everyone does. Can she keep her enemies away long enough to turn 18, or will she be killed before she finds out who her mate is?