Metal Slug Soldiers

He whispered her name nine hundred and ninety-nine times in his sleep. Never mine. For five years, I gave everything to Vincent Bonanno—the heir to one of the most powerful mafia dynasties in Europe. I turned his house into a home, remembered every careless detail he let slip, even abandoned my dream of becoming an artist—believing that one day, he would finally choose me. But whenever Alessia appeared, his loyalty bent toward her. The night boiling fondue scarred my arms, he rushed to shield her from a scratch that barely reddened her skin. In public, his gaze never stayed with me—it drifted to her. I was the wife on paper, but never in truth. So I walked away. With nothing but a suitcase, divorce papers he signed without noticing, and a secret I never planned to share—three months pregnant. He discovered too late. The divorce was real. The clinic file was real. And by the time he realized, I had vanished. Now the man who once ruled cities with cold power is tearing the world apart to find us. He has soldiers, money, and a thousand apologies he never gave when I was still his wife. But I’m no longer the woman who begged for affection. I’m a mother. An artist. A survivor. The question isn’t whether Vincent can reach me. It’s whether, when he does, I’ll ever let him back into the life he destroyed.

The Devouring Queen is a paranormal revenge fantasy set between a blood drenched Lycan kingdom and a starving vampire empire, where every moon can crown a monarch or claim a corpse. The story follows Elara, once a gentle Luna who was betrayed and murdered on her wedding night. Instead of finding peace, she awakens three years in the past inside the stolen body of a hidden vampire princess. She returns to life in a world already preparing for her death, because in thirty nights the Lycan King must kill his true mate to awaken an ancient god beast. Now two women wear the same face, and only one can survive the prophecy that hungers for blood. Elara, reborn as a ghost wearing royal skin, abandons innocence and embraces the power she never had in her first life. With a quiet voice and a predator’s smile, she steps into a kingdom filled with secrets, manipulations and creatures who underestimate her. Cassius, the beautiful and broken Lycan King, is trapped between the woman he once loved, the version he helped destroy, and a prophecy that demands sacrifice. Their love is poisonous, irresistible and destined to end in ruin. As the nights slip away, Elara weaves a dark game of power and deception. She announces a false pregnancy, visits the chained original bride under midnight moons, and manipulates courts and armies with deadly grace. The mirrors around her begin to bleed, the lies thicken, and the prophecy tightens like a noose. The climax erupts in a courtyard filled with fallen soldiers, where the two identical brides tear the king apart to decide which destiny will rule. The kingdoms that remain have only two choices: kneel or burn.

In a world where the moon shattered and the strong devoured the weak, Neoma Solstice is nothing. A scentless Null. A ghost. A mistake. Until the day she saves a dying Lycan warrior with a touch, and her secret is revealed: she's Void-Born, the rarest mutation in existence. The same power that makes her invisible makes her invaluable—a living weapon that can cure the incurable Feral Rot plaguing the Lycan Ascendancy. Captured and collared, Neoma is forced to serve as "Tether" to Unit Vanguard: four elite soldiers on the brink of madness. Barzil, the ruthless Commander who sees her as a mission. Wolfy, the cold Tactician who sees her as a puzzle. Viggo, the feral Berserker who sees her as salvation. Guller, the fallen Priest who sees her as redemption. They own her contract. They control her life. They swear she's just a tool. But tools don't make their masters kneel. As Neoma's power grows, so does the threat she poses to the regime that enslaved her. When the prophesied Blood Moon rises, she'll have to choose: remain the Ascendancy's battery, or become the Void that devours them whole. Some bonds are forged in blood. Some in magic. Theirs was forged in desperation—and it might be the only thing strong enough to save a dying world. The Obsidian Covenant is a dark dystopian reverse harem romance featuring a morally gray FMC, four obsessive MLs, found family dynamics, enemies-to-lovers, rejected mate redemption, and a slow-burn that explodes into high heat. Perfect for fans of The Cruel Prince meets Den of Vipers in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. No choosing. No apologies. No mercy.

I threw myself into the sea out of despair. Unexpectedly, I returned to the fifth year after I became mates with Alpha Ethan Grant. Ethan is my mate. He is the strongest Alpha among all the packs. Our son, Chester Grant, inherited his bloodline. Like Ethan, he is a powerful, unyielding, born leader. To the world, I am the noble Luna. I am the one every she-wolf envies and strives to be. Yet, the first thing I did was venture deep into the forest where a witch lived. I asked the witch for a bone ring that would sever the blood bond with Ethan and Chester. "Wear this, and the bond between you and your mate and child will gradually sever within five days. The process is painful and irreversible. You mustn't regret it," the witch says. I immediately place the pale bone ring on my finger. While enduring the pain that pierces directly into my soul, I reply while trembling, "I will never regret it." Ethan's first love is Angelina Lark. In my previous life, Ethan permitted her to dethrone me from my Luna position. I was also injured in the process. Additionally, Chester complained that my scent was repulsive and called Angelina "Mommy". So, in this life, I don't want my mate or my son. I just want the freedom to live my own life. But after leaving, I hear that the strongest Alpha and his heir are searching the world with soldiers in tow. They swear to find the Luna who had taken their hearts.

What happens when a half demon girl afflicted with nightmares, heir to the throne of the third realm of Hell, catches feelings for a fallen angel soldier, whose sole purpose is to hunt down and kill monsters such as herself? *** Ashton is plagued by nightmares. She’s cursed. With a simple touch she can see your fears. It proved to be quite lucrative under her mother’s manipulated hands until the bodies started piling up and whispers of her name traveled through the streets. Those whispers reached far and wide, catching unwanted attention. Seeking asylum at Mysteria Manor, a home for cursed girls, Ashton is kept hidden away hoping that those looking for her will lose interest. Little does she know is that there's a race to find her first. Being discovered by The Order's demon hunting soldiers, should mean death for Ashton. But they don't want to kill her. They want to use her. And by any means necessary, she will lead them to the demon they seek out. Her father. Working for the people that want nothing more than her kind dead is one this, but falling for the soldier that is assigned to keep her in line, is something else entirely. Carden is rude and cold, blames her for everything that goes wrong, but continues to save her on multiple occasions. Secret motives are revealed, unknown truths are heard and a choice is put upon Ashton. Continue trusting a fallen angel soldier that was assigned to collect her by any means, including making her fall in love with him, or to rule Hell with her family. Who will the daughter of blood and nightmares choose? Family or love? Heaven or Hell?

As I walked through the dimly lit hallway, my heart was still racing, my breath uneven from the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed me in the last few hours. Then, my eyes flickered up, catching sight of the metal plaque bolted to the doorpost "Wing 1." A cold chill ran down my spine. My body went rigid as Otto’s letter flashed vividly in my mind, the words echoing as if he said it directly to my face "Room 316. Wing 2." No. No. No. No. Oh, God. A sickening wave of realization crashed over me, leaving me breathless. The man in the grey suit… He had smiled, nodded, and gestured me down this hallway. So confident. So sure. And like a fool, I had followed. I had made a mistake. A colossal, irreversible mistake. My stomach twisted violently as the truth settled in, thick and suffocating. I had entered the wrong wing. The wrong room. The wrong bed. I had given myself to a stranger. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out everything else. The world tilted, my vision blurred. What had I done? How far is too far? In this encapsulating masterpiesce, Sucre is down for whatever gets him closer to taking revenge on Otto - his twin brother's killer. But, would he really do all that is necessary? Would he chose his ambition over that of Luca the cartel’s underboss and his lover? Can he stop the knife and gun violence on campus and win the five million dollars prize money? Dive into a story of love, betrayal, romance and suspense. The Cartel’s Forbidden Love is a gripping and intriguing read that will keep you on the edge of your seat until the very last page.

How quickly everything ended by just a single day, I was just like any other girl in the world- laughing and hanging out with friends, taking endless selfies, having crushes on bad boys and nerds included. I never thought or cared about how I look. It was just mine. Normal and Easy. But everything changed in one single moment- a moment filled with fire, screaming metal, and a blur of terror that rewrote my life. I survived. Everybody says I'm lucky but this, this doesn't feel like survival it feels like a punishment, a curse. A curse that am willing to carry all my life. The accident left me with permanent facial disfigurement, and ever since, I've been stuck behind a mask I never asked to wear. My face is the first thing anyone sees, and sometimes, it feels like the only thing they see. I avoid mirrors now. I no longer go out; I can't risk being stared at. Friends faded. Invitations stopped. Of course they would stop, who would want to invite the hideous me. I would scare everyone, worse, ruin their appetite. They would move away from their tables. What did I expect? Life moved on for everyone but me. My mom is the only person in my life right now, shes' become my anchor. Even with her love, it's still hard to silence the voices in my head, the ones saying I'm hideous, broken, unworthy. I miss my old smile. I still haven't done anything in life. And this isn't about my appearance it's about my self- esteem, my confidence, my ability to feel like I belong anywhere. This is a constant battle with the mirror, with the world, and with yourself. And most days, I'm trying to find the strength to look up to.

He kissed her over and over again, and she responded: she said yes. All female heat and need; so soft and curved against his muscle and hard planes. King kissed her like he owned her and she ached to just let him take her. Any way he wanted; as many times as she could take him. King shifted her again, held almost her whole weight on one massive forearm, freeing his other hand to move over her now. His fingers tightened on her cheek as he kissed her, the metal of his rings cool against her flushed skin, then he moved his hand down her body. She arched when he caressed her throat and stroked down slowly. **** Naomi Abbott had it all once: talent, success, momentum. Now she runs a nonprofit art program for autistic adults and counts her days sober instead of her sales. She’s smart, beautiful, and barely holding herself together. One year into recovery, Naomi knows the rules: no chaos, no temptation, and absolutely no romance. Especially not with him. Matt “King” Kingston is danger wrapped in muscle, a scowling ex-Marine with a garage, a shadowy side hustle, and a laser-focused obsession with Naomi. He wants her. All of her. And he’s never been good at walking away. But the closer he gets, the harder she resists... because letting King in means risking everything she’s fought to rebuild. As trust grows and walls crack, King becomes Naomi’s anchor. Until she spirals. When the past comes roaring back, Naomi must decide if she’s strong enough to survive it... and if King’s love can endure the wreckage.

His lips brushed my palm and every time his hot breath hit my skin, it set my nerves on fire. “What the—” I whispered, breathless. And then, with deliberate slowness, Sevastian slipped my ring finger into his mouth. My eyes widened in disbelief, my heart hammering against my chest. His teeth scraped my skin before sinking into the flesh, just enough to make me twitch from the sharp pain. I gasped, both from the sting and the bite I got from him. My entire body tensed as he bit down harder, marking me not with ink or metal, but with flesh and teeth. When he finally released my hand, my skin throbbed, the faint mark of his bite was visible against my finger. I cradled my hand, staring in disbelief at the mark he left behind. “This,” Sevastian murmured, his voice low and sharp. “Is my mark and ring.” His tone carried an edge, dangerous yet confident, as if the words were meant to bind me. “The symbol that you are no longer Celestina Valeztina-Savelli.” His lips ghosted over my skin, and my chest tightened as he whispered the next words. “...but Celestina Valeztina-Ortega.” His next words were a soft snarl, dripping with ruthless certainty. “My property, my wife.” He added, while locking his gaze on me. There was no hesitation in his eyes, no flicker of remorse, only that same ruthless determination that chilled me to my core. I tried to pull my hand back, but he didn’t let go. "You’re insane," I whispered, my voice barely audible, trembling despite my best efforts not to show it. “Yes, I’m insane,” he replied with a hint of mischief in his voice, “And I can drive you crazy…” He paused, letting the tension hang in the air.

After the young officer Edward Shaw took first place in a high-profile shooting exhibition attended by senior officials, his family adopted a rather peculiar tradition. At the annual family banquet, he would perform a blindfolded shooting. Whichever woman's token his bullet struck was taken as a sign that she would become his fiancée. Determined to marry him, I placed the handkerchief I had carefully chosen as close to him as possible. Yet, for three consecutive years, his shots hit nothing at all. I told myself the handkerchief must have been too light, too easy to miss. So each year, I replaced it with something more refined, more eye-catching than before. That illusion lasted until the night before my eighteenth birthday, when I happened to overhear him speaking with a friend at a reception. "Miss Jasmine's handkerchief is right in front. Even blindfolded, you should be able to hit it. How do you keep missing every year?" Edward swirled his glass, his tone casual. "Tracy's still young. The moment she hears I'm getting engaged, she starts crying. "I promised I'd wait until she's a little older. As for Jasmine, she's waited for me all these years. It's not like she's going anywhere." With that, he casually tossed his glass into a metal bucket in the corner. It rang out with a sharp, hollow clang. I lowered my gaze and thought of my younger sister, only a year younger than me. So it had never been about the token. It was about the person who placed it there. In that case, there was no reason for me to keep holding on. After all, my father had already arranged a marriage for me. Three days later, at that same family banquet, I would be formally engaged.