Lonely Rabbit Novels & Stories

I’m just a mortal, yet I’ve been deeply in love with Orion, the heir to Poseidon, for seven long years. When he was about to ascend the throne as the God of the Sea, I thought I could finally stand by his side—in the light, as his true consort. But then he delivered a crushing ultimatum: the condition for his ascension was to produce a pure-blooded divine heir with his late brother’s widow, Selene. Every time he came back from Selene's bed, he’d hold me tight and whisper, "Thalia, you’re my only true love. As soon as Selene gives birth to an heir for the throne, we’ll have our wedding. I’ll give you the title you deserve." And so, over the next six months, he spent a hundred nights in Selene’s bed. His visits grew more frequent, and the stench of Selene’s scent on his skin grew stronger. Finally, on the 100th lonely night I spent waiting for him, Selene got pregnant. The news spread across Atlantis like wildfire—along with the announcement of their upcoming royal wedding. My son tugged at my sleeve, asking innocently, "Mommy, I thought people said Father is marrying his beloved Queen? Why hasn't he come to pick us up yet?" "Because his beloved Queen isn't Mommy, sweetheart." I smiled, gently stroking his hair. "But it’s okay. I’m taking you back to our real home." What Orion didn't know was that my biological father had already found me. He is Zeus, the King of the Gods. And I am his long-lost daughter who was left in the mortal realm. As for Orion’s title of Queen? I couldn't care less anymore.

Kira is an adopted daughter of a well-known heartless billionaire (Gerald Cranwell) who was sold by him into a contractually agreed marriage to the wealthiest family in the entire country to escape bankruptcy. Clueless Kira calm and collected could only just watch her life being handed over to a new home and her new world, tackling people from the highest society and struggling to look presentable before a husband she had never set her eyes on before. He never showed up at their wedding and she didn't know what he looked like in person. Trapped in a supposed marriage meant for two yet leaving alone, she grew tired of waiting and accepted her fate, living like a nobody and sleeping in her lonely world, not until a certain stranger crawled into her bed under the moonlight. Excerpts #1 She was dressed in her night attire, looking like a carved doll. Her eyes were shut and her brown hair which was as soft as a Pima cotton was spread wide on the soft pillows, her skin glowed underneath the light of the moon, which was the only light visible in the room, and her long lashes accompanied her pointy nose that laid beautifully above her rose pink lips. She enticed him. She made the beast in him growl out in desire. He craved her, he wanted her. Kira was in deep sleep when her nose caught a whiff of an unfamiliar scent. She didn't know what it was but her body craved it. She felt a certain presence but she was far too gone to wake up from her slumber. Unconsciously, her nipples hardened and her insides were on fire. She rotated on the bed as if she was been controlled and moaned and groaned as if she was being drugged.

Vaelora Arden was born to privilege as the daughter of Alpha Theron Arden of the powerful Nightbane Pack. Destined to marry feared Lycan King Lucerian Veyth and unite two powerful bloodlines, she instead chose love over duty. Believing Alpha Kaiven Drax loved her more than power, Vaelora abandoned her title, inheritance, and family to run away with him. Her sacrifice soon turned into nightmare. Once her family disowned her and cut her off from their wealth, Kaiven's affection vanished ,humiliated, and forced to endure his endless infidelities, Vaelora clung to her failing marriage until a violent confrontation led to loss of her unborn child. Broken abandoned, she returned home in disgrace. Desperate to restore their damaged alliance, her family offers her one chance at redemption: marry the Lycan King she once rejected. Lucerian accepts, but not out of love. Kaiven is his hated stepbrother, and Lucerian has spent years plotting revenge. Their marriage begins as cold political arrangement built on mutual wounds and resentment. Yet as war erupts and secrets are revealed, Vaelora discovers that beneath Lucerian's ruthless exterior lies lonely, broken man burdened by grief and hatred. As they grow closer, love blossoms where neither expected it. Together they bring down Kaiven's empire, but victory comes at terrible cost when Vaelora is gravely wounded and learns she's pregnant again. When Lucerian orders the pregnancy terminated, she leaves him, devastated. Only later does she discover the truth: Lucerian is dying from a rare illness and wanted to spare her the pain of raising a child alone. Faced with an impossible choice, Vaelora sacrifices her unborn child to save the man she loves. In the end, love triumphs over betrayal. Lucerian survives, Vaelora is crowned his true Luna, and together they finally build the family and future they once thought impossible.

**Book 1: My Healing Love (omegaverse) **Book 2: My Healing Love: Mateo's Love Story (available on the website for now! )! Because your love heals me, I will give you all my life. Trevor: "I can't stand men touches." Trevor looks sadly at the man in front of him, then added "and it seems that my body doesn't like women's pheromone either... So I'm bound to be alone." Soon I realise that I was special because I was the only man who could manage to touch him, and he was the only one whose pheromones could affect me. Then I thought maybe we were made for each other. So I decided to love him only"- Max "He is the only man I can feel and touch, He is the first one who can make me smile like that." So I thought maybe he is my healing. - Trevor Max is an alpha, future CEO of the most powerful company in town. He is looking for his mate, to make his boring life more pleasant. Trevor is an omega. An orphan after losing his mother and grandfather, he thought he would live a lonely and painful life until he met Max. Watch as Max and Trevor heal each other with their love, trust and respect. Follow our two protagonists in this love story full of twists and turns. *Excerpt* Trevor's lips quivered "I just don't want to regret this... you know I've watched my mother die because of a one-sided bond, I'm scared to jump into a relationship with someone I don't really know just because we are mates..." "I know ... and I have to say that I'm glad you're taking your time ... it means you're seriously considering me, at least I know it's not my money or my body you're interested in!" Max joked

My daughter, Vivian Montiago, is born with a heart condition. To protect her, I decide to spend 200 million dollars on building a prestigious preschool for her in the company's park. I don't want her to be lonely, so I also decide to allow the other employees' children to attend the preschool for free to keep Vivian company. However, on the first day of preschool, Vivian's smartwatch alert keeps going off. When I rush over to the preschool, I find out that Vivian is all tied up and left to die under the hot afternoon sun. Her skin is red and blistering, and her lips are purple as she teeters on the edge of death. "Are you all blind? Call the ambulance!" I yell in anger, grabbing Vivian and rushing out of the place. However, Hailey Lester, my husband's secretary, gets in my way. "You seduced my husband and birthed an illegitimate child. How dare you try to get away without being punished?" she screams, slapping me hard in the face. "I'm telling you that this preschool is a gift to me and my son from Rhett! And you're not allowed to step out of this place without my explicit permission!" "Her life is in danger! We'll talk about that later!" I exclaim, not wanting to argue with her. However, she kicks me to the ground and says, "So what if his bastard daughter dies? He can have a daughter with me if he really wants one!" The company employees don't seem to care about Vivian's health condition at all. They point at me and say, "Ms. Lester is Mr. Montiago's beloved wife, and she also owns this place! You're nothing but a homewrecker trying to take advantage of the free preschool program. Get down and apologize at once!" Fine. Since everyone is as blind as my husband, Rhett Montiago, in realizing who the real deal is, I decide that I am not sparing a single one of them.

Out of sheer kindness, I brought my drunk, heartbroken coworker home for the night after she'd been dumped. Little did I know, she'd treat my place like it was her own. "Isla, I gave my ex my whole paycheck. I'm just gonna stay here for the rest of the month. You've got this huge place all to yourself anyway—such a waste. It's perfect, we can keep each other company. And hey, no rent. You're already cooking for yourself, so what's one more plate, right?" I stopped typing and blinked, trying to process what she was saying. She kept going, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna take advantage—I'll chip in 2 bucks a day. Honestly, you must get so lonely living alone. Aren't I sweet for offering?" I just stared at her, barely holding back a laugh at her blatant audacity. That evening, I slipped out of the office early, went straight home, and deadbolted the door behind me. No matter how much she knocked and yelled from the hallway, I didn't budge. The next morning, she stormed over to my desk and slammed her hand on my cubicle wall, her tone dripping with accusation. "You were home last night—why didn't you open the door?! I had nowhere to go, had to crash at a hotel, and between that and food, I dropped 60 bucks. You owe me." She shoved her phone screen—payment receipts on full display—right in my face. I couldn't help it—I laughed out loud. If she wanted to play that game, fine. If she thought she could push me around, she was about to learn what real-world consequences looked like.

When Elowen learned that she had been switched at birth, that her life as a princess was nothing more than a mistake, she quietly accepted her fate. She accepted being treated as an error. Accepted being hurt so deeply that even crying had to be done in secret. She believed she would fade away like this — silently, unnoticed, forgotten. Until one day — when despair pushed her to the edge — she felt a faint chill, as if someone were standing behind her, protecting her without a word. From that moment on, Elowen knew she was no longer alone. — Adrian survived a horrific car accident. His body lay motionless in a hospital bed, while his soul became bound to a wounded girl he had never known. He couldn’t hold her. Couldn’t shield her from harm. Yet when she was starved, warm food appeared in her drawer. When she was bullied, her tormentors met with inexplicable accidents. When she curled up crying in the dead of night, an invisible hand gently rested on her forehead—so tender it hurt. Adrian was there. Quieter than any living person. He witnessed every wound, remembered every tear, every trembling breath she tried to suppress. Affection grew in silence—slowly, carefully—as if one careless step closer would cause the girl to shatter. One was alive, yet denied a life. One was dead, yet still learning how to protect someone. Some forms of protection need no light. Some kinds of love cannot be touched. — Then one day, Elowen spoke seriously to her “Ms. Ghost”: Elowen: “Ms. Ghost, if you’re lonely…” “Maybe you could bond with a male ghost.” “I’d give you my blessing.” Adrian: … Then the “Ms. Ghost” coldly placed a hand on her forehead. Adrian: “Call me Mr. Ghost.”

Elena had once believed that silence could mean safety. That a gentle hand and a warm cup of tea placed quietly on her desk every morning could be a form of love. Lucien was never cruel—not in the obvious ways. He remembered how she liked her eggs, noticed when she swapped her perfume, and sent flowers on days he knew she wouldn’t expect them. He raised her like one would raise a pet—softly, without question. And Elena, foolish in the way only the very lonely can be, mistook his quiet affection for devotion. She told herself he was reserved. Mysterious. That love didn’t always wear its heart on its sleeve. But when the old flame returned—the one who spoke his language without needing to try—Elena saw it. The difference. He looked at her like a man who had found his lost religion. And Elena? She had simply been convenient. No tears, no scene. Just papers on the breakfast table, beside the eggs he cooked perfectly. She didn’t accuse or beg. She only asked for freedom. He didn’t sign. He chuckled. A soft, dismissive sound. “A cat raised indoors doesn’t know how to survive on the street, Elena. You’ll come back." But she didn’t. She disappeared, like smoke—except she didn’t vanish, not really. She lived. She wore colour again. Laughed at bad jokes. Let strange men hand her coffee and ask for her number. Lucien? He watched. He watched her become someone without him. And it drove him mad. The night he cornered her outside the gallery, rain in his hair and desperation in his eyes, he looked like a man undone. "Elena," he breathed, "please. Look at me. Just once." She did. Calm as ever, and her love already gone.

“You have no idea,” he said quietly, “how difficult it is hearing you say things like that while you’re upstairs and I can’t touch you.” My stomach tightened hard. “Then come upstairs.” The words escaped before I could think them through. Silence crashed into the room. “You do know what you’re asking for, don’t you?” “Yes.” A long pause. Then: “Open your door.” At twenty-two, Ivy Hart has mastered the art of pretending. By day, she’s the polished daughter of a wealthy country club businessman—the successful young woman her father proudly brags about to his golf buddies. By night, she becomes someone else entirely. Hidden behind soft lighting, silk robes, and a fake name, Ivy earns millions online giving strangers the intimacy she’s never found in real life. But one man is different. Masked. Older. Addictive. Known only as BigDaddyP, he doesn’t just watch her—he sees her. Every insecurity. Every lie. Every lonely part she hides behind the camera. Their late-night sessions become her obsession. Until the night he whispers her real name during a private stream. Terrified, Ivy logs off moments before her father calls with unexpected news: his famous actor godson, Patrick Laurent, will be staying at their mansion for Christmas while her parents leave town. Cold blue eyes. Dangerous restraint. A voice she would recognize anywhere. Because the man she’s been craving in the dark is now sleeping down the hall from her. Snowed in together in a mansion, the line between performance and reality begins to blur. And the more Patrick strips away her carefully built masks, the more Ivy realizes the real danger isn’t that her father’s closest friend knows exactly who she is, It’s that she wants him in every forbidden way possible.

The night my father collapsed, I learned some men negotiate with money… but Noah Thorne negotiates with lives. I never planned to marry a billionaire CEO, especially not the man my father owed $50,000 to. But when the hospital demanded an $80,000 deposit before surgery, life made the choice for me. While my mother sobbed in a cold hallway, Noah’s bodyguard arrived with an offer, an arranged marriage, a contract marriage that would clear the debt and cover every medical bill. When I confronted Noah, he presented the terms without cruelty: one year, no intimacy, public appearances only, and freedom after. He believed he was offering mercy but I felt like beautifully packaged captivity. Desperation crushed pride, and I signed. Our “marriage” was a seven-minute formality, no vows, no meaning. Moving into his penthouse was like stepping into a museum built to contain silence. Publicly, we were the perfect romance. Privately, we were strangers navigating a fragile arrangement thick with unspoken tension. Complications followed us: Noah’s elegant, smug ex who treated me like a placeholder, and my own ex-boyfriend, whose sudden reappearance triggered jealousy in Noah he couldn’t hide. Arguments, silences, and late-night moments softened something between us. Slowly, painfully, the man behind the empire emerged, the lonely boy shaped by loss, abandonment, and guarded walls. We began to care. We tried to deny it. Feelings weren’t in the contract but feelings don’t read contracts. Near the end of the year, Noah pulled away. I thought he wanted freedom. He signed the release papers with steady hands and a breaking heart. I was almost gone when he whispered the truth: “Please don’t go.” We tore up the contract. A year later, we married again, this time for love, not survival. This time, I chose him