Lightning Thief Medusa Novels & Stories

Accused of stealing recipes from my own sister, Cora, I was ruthlessly cast out from the healing center—by my own fated mate, the Alpha Kellan. So I came home to my grandma's herb farm. Riding my wild horse, Shadow, wherever the hell we want to go. But now the whole pack is scrambling to find me. In my past life, at the Alliance's Grand Potion Competition, my sister always managed to submit the exact same rare potion recipes as me, just a little bit earlier. They all called me a shameless thief, a plagiarist who stole my own sister's work. Even my own parents got on stage to vouch for her. And Kellan... he threw the exile order in my face. His eyes were ice. He stripped me of my title for "dishonoring the pack" and shattered our mate bond right in front of everyone. The agony tore my soul apart. I wanted to die. My family called me a disgrace and cast me out. The betrayal shattered my wolf. I lost my mind. In the end, one of her fanatics shot me dead in the street. A silver bullet laced with wolfsbane. As I died, I still couldn't understand how she could get inside my head and steal my recipes. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. The day before the competition. This time, my mind is filled with nothing but the wild. Let's see what kind of potion my 'genius' sister can come up with now.

I was reborn one month before the forensic certification exam. This time, I spent my days drinking and clubbing instead of slaving away studying, for the class belle had bound me to an Achievement Transfer System in my previous life. We had prepared for the forensic certification together, and I'd burned the midnight oil while she slacked off and partied. Yet, I scored a zero and failed, while she got exactly what she wanted and passed when the results were out. The entire class praised the class belle for her talent and mocked me, saying a nobody like me could never rise above my station. Unwilling to accept it, I demanded a review of the exam. The results showed that every single one of my answers was wrong, while hers were all correct. I searched through everything from my past experiments, only to find that every certificate bore the class belle's name. The class belle then put on an innocent front and accused me of misconduct, declaring imperiously, "Dakota Saunders, you've always pretended to be hardworking in front of others. I just didn't expect you to lie for so long that you started believing it yourself! "And now you've even stolen my certificates! You're disgusting. A thief like you belongs in the sewers, not here!" I was scorned by everyone and expelled from the academy. In the end, unable to bear the blow, I jumped to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to one month before the forensic certification exam.

~ SORA HELL MORGATHOR ~ Since my appointment to the throne, my cousin on paper has fully embraced the role of archnemesis, dedicating every breath to my downfall. He is a walking tantrum in a tailored suit, still crying about a crown that was never going to fit his head anyway. My life wasn’t perfect, but ever since I was adopted into the Hell Morgathor family, staying alive has become a full-time hobby, mostly because every move I make is now at the mercy of men who treat human lives like disposable currency. It’s nice to know I’ve brought the city together; apparently, having me in charge is the only thing everyone can agree is a terrible idea. My cousin on paper views me as the ultimate gatekeeper, Largely thanks to the fact that I have the audacity to keep breathing while he wants my chair, treating my pulse like a personal insult to his resume. ☠️☠️☠️☠️ ~A-JUN HELL MORGATHOR ~ All I want is my family to stop being a shadow. A woman carries the family name, whereas my father is subjected to being the underboss. As if things aren’t bad enough, an adopted female child is coded to be the next Don, and she had the guts to accept the offer. I was fully prepared to end her life, but I was suddenly struck by lightning, or maybe it was just her impeccable skincare routine, and I decided to let it slide, distracted by her face and forgot why I was even holding a weapon. I'm currently temporarily blinded by her sheer audacity to be that gorgeous while I’m trying to work. But until when will I be distracted?

After rejecting the 999th consort candidate my master, Madam Freya, had introduced to me, she finally reached her limit. "What the hell are you waiting for? You're the once-in-a-lifetime genius of Nymphomist magic, and yet you've never gone through the Great Rite! You're not getting any younger, girl. At this rate, how are you supposed to improve your spiritual power?!" I sighed. Of course I wanted to find a consort and perform the Great Rite already. But every single one of those candidates looked like shit. Unfortunately, my absurdly high standards for men ended up stalling my spiritual power for too long. I failed to survive the Trial of Lightning and died... Then I opened my eyes and realized I was in another body, in another world. The beauty standards here were completely different from those in the elven world. I looked across the room, and my eyes immediately landed on the most perfect man I had ever seen. He was 6'2", with sharply defined washboard abs. His face looked as though the gods themselves had sculpted it. I ran straight toward him and threw my arms around his waist. Oh, he's the one! To my surprise, this god among men narrowed his eyes and grabbed me by the neck. Rage burned in his expression. "You would throw yourself at a man as hideous as me just for my money?! You disgust me!" What the hell was he talking about? Honestly, all I could focus on was the way his sexy, seductive lips moved against each other whenever he spoke. Please. Just let me bite them already!

Adrian Cole thought he had hit the big time when world-famous sensation Damian Knight asked him to tour as the opener for his world tour. But just as his dreams were in reach, one phone call wrecked his future—he was accused of plagiarizing the songs of other people, branded a thief, and discarded. On the walk home from the recording studio, Adrian was ambushed, struck by a car, and arrested on false drug charges, betrayed by the person he most trusted: his husband, Ethan Cross. After being blinded, silenced, and forgotten, Adrian spends years behind bars until Sebastian Cross, Ethan's estranged younger brother, shows up as a messiah in the most unlikely of ways. Sebastian rescues Adrian, gives him a new identity, and sets him on the path to retribution using his wealth, power, and personal hidden agendas. Adrian's rage increases as he learns more lies, such as the fact that his former best friend Marcus Hale killed him to atone for their transgressions, that Ethan and Marcus were lovers in the closet, and that Marcus stole his music and called him a bully. But revenge comes at a cost. When Ethan finds Adrian still alive, an intense battle leaves Sebastian injured by a bullet meant for Adrian. Pinned down by love and loyalty, Adrian inherits Sebastian's business as he gets his own life back as a musician. They navigate betrayal, lying, and phantoms of the past. Adrian not only clears his name but also discovers love that eclipses the one which had nearly killed him.

He hates her so much. He wants her to pay, but why kill her when he can play the long game? He is the predator, and she's the prey. Or, so he thought. * Damian meticulously leads a double life— an affluent billionaire on the outside and a well-aged lycan on the inside. He has been in concealment since the treacherous murder of his Luna years ago. Damian remains haunted by the depth of the betrayal. His pent-up rage is reignited when Ishtar comes along, an ordinary human who bears the face of the traitor who murdered his mate. A doppelganger of the lycan who orchestrated the ruin of his pack in the past. Not only is he surprised by Ishtar's audacity, but his inactive wolf rages for the first time in a long while, claiming she is the answer. The little human crashes down his high walls, torturing him with memories of the past. Just as he suspects, Ishtar is connected to his past and is the key to relieving him of the excruciating weight he bears. There's a tinge of passion beneath the hard-surfaced hate, and it intensifies the more he tries to quench the fire. # Ishtar has spent years of her life on the street, being a petty thief, since she left the orphanage at eighteen. Everything changes when she bumps into Damian and assaults him. She falls into his world without being aware of his end game and identity. She is the old soul's plaything and his last chance at redemption. Her assumptions about herself become a sham when she's open to the world of supernaturals. Humans are not built to last, but there's more to this one. What happens when Ishtar isn't the only doppelganger around? Who stops the past from burning into existence again?

"You can't be weak, wife. You now have three husbands to please. Tonight's the night we claim you. You can't let a simple wedding tire you, for our nuptial night holds trials far more demanding." Ezra whispered huskily, tucking my hair behind my ear. -- "Oh god!” I cried. "Not god, baby. We are your demons," Ezra growled, pounding faster. -- "Call my name, Xanthea,” Asher groaned and a tight flutter erupted in my belly. -- "I can't… I can't take this… anymore…" And then he hit a spot, and he kept hitting it again and again with every thrust. Sparks charged throughout my body like the lightning cracking in the stormy sky again and again until it was too much to hold back, too hard to… resist. *** Xanthea Plath, an illegitimate child of the Alpha of Virgo pack, was an omega and omegas weren't allowed to dream, yet she never stopped dreaming. She wanted to be a doctor just like her mother but the luna of the pack, her stepmother would break her physically and mentally and stop at nothing to crush all her dreams. Xanthea had still found a way though all the abuse her steps put her through. But one day her world came crashing down right before her entrance in a medical college when she found out that she was being offered as a bride to the ruthless triplet alphas also known as the demon lords of the Infernal pack of the underworld. Xanthea had heard the horrifying stories of several suitors who had come before her, all of whom had met a gruesome end. *** Dark reverse harem romance with 18+ explicit content. Readers discretion advised.

Ava had her back at Drex, and for the past month, her life had turned from bad to worse. at that moment when she had fallen deeply in love with the ruthless assassin who contributed to making her life miserable, the world began to look beautiful again, she thought things would turn out for the best, only for her to find out that Drex was not protecting her because he loved her. "I hate you with every fiber in me," Ava screamed in tears. Even when she utters those words, her heart still beats for him, She wished he had killed her that night, she wished he had never met him. She wished she had never fallen for him, how can she love someone who wouldn't miss the slightest opportunity to end her life? "if I disappear out of your life, will that make you happy?" Drex asked. "You are a total jerk!" She yell. With rage, Ava stormed toward him and slapped him across his face, she made to slap him again but Drex held her tightly and draw her into his embrace. Her anger dissipated immediately, she melt away in his embrace. She love his smell, his cologne which she was now familiar with give her nothing but comfort. "I love this side of you, so feisty!" he said. ******** Don Drex Mason is well-known to the outer world as a dropped-dead handsome bachelor and a businessman but in the underworld, he was the most feared ruthless mafia assassin. Ava Anderson, a small-time introverted nosy newspaper journalist, the two personalities crossed paths on an unfortunate rainy night, she was his target and a threat to his client, she's to be eliminated at all costs. but their fate was already sealed by lightning which made them share one soul.

Ever since we were kids, I'd always known how to make use of my gentle childhood friend for things like sending him on errands, and borrowing his allowance. He never complained. Just silently indulged me. Things continued the same way until the day we got engaged. That's when everything snapped into place. That was the day we both woke up. I was just a throwaway character in a novel. He was the male lead—fated to fall in love and end up with the novel's heroine. I was stunned. Ready to walk away. But he was furious. Jaw clenched, eyes wild. He grabbed my hand and dragged me straight to City Hall. "Screw the novel. Screw the plot. The only thing I know is that I love you, and I want forever with you." After we got married, he treated me like I was made of glass. Gentle. Meticulous. We worked side by side, building a reputation as a power couple in the business world. The events of the novel faded into the background. I fell deeper in love with him. Three years later, the youngest daughter of a real estate tycoon started her internship at our company. That day, there was a fire in the office. In the chaos, the girl stumbled into a shelving unit. It came crashing down, headed straight for my husband. I didn't hesitate. I threw myself in front of him. Pain exploded in my skull. Blood poured down my face. The girl, in her panic, had fallen to the ground, crying out, "Aaron, help me!" My husband's face went pale. His expression—pure terror—as he ran toward her without a second thought. "Grace!" he cried. Lightning split through me. My face drained of color. The heroine in the novel—her name was Grace.

I had a fever, so I boiled myself an egg. I didn’t expect my son to come home and call the police. “There’s a thief in our house,” he told them, dead serious. “She stole one of my eggs.” The officers thought it was a joke. Evan didn’t. “Ms. Blake gave me those eggs. They’re imported. She stole from me, so she should be arrested.” Then he looked at me like I was a stranger. “Mom’s just lazy. She’s pretending to be sick. No wonder Dad likes spending time with Ms. Blake.” I bit down hard to keep from crying. It didn’t help. To him, my silence was proof I was guilty. “Ms. Blake said people who do bad things always act pitiful,” he added coldly. When my husband got home, he didn’t even ask how I was. “You sit around all day and still say you’re sick? Sounds like you just have too much time to be dramatic. If you were half as thoughtful as Sophie, I wouldn’t be this exhausted.” I almost laughed. When I had a 102-degree fever, he said the clinic was too expensive. But when his secretary mentioned her villa felt a little cold, he signed a thirty-million-dollar contract without hesitation. He was never stingy. Just never with me. That was the moment I stopped caring. That night, I stared at the message my father had sent me. And made a decision. Tomorrow, I was going home, not as his wife, not as anyone’s mother, but as the heiress I had always been.