Mismatched Novels & Stories

DISMAY. Consternation and distress, typically caused by something unexpected. A feeling of disappointment or sadness. Driven by the devastating revelation that Josh was not only Dylan's doctor but his death was connected to Dylan, Anna hurriedly returned to her apartment—Hannah's old residence. While the police had concluded their investigation into the recent break-in as an unsuccessful search for valuables, Anna's intuition (and her new information about Hannah) told her otherwise. As she walked over towards her apartment, the cold dread in her stomach coiled tighter with every step. The familiar route to her neighbourhood felt alien now, haunted by the ghost of Hannah and the tragic spect

Without thinking, I ran towards them with a loud yell, "You can't take her as a mate!" He jerked his head backwards and looked at me, his lips curling up with disgust. "April?" "Alpha Winston!" I sobbed, "I am your fated mate, and not her." "Mated to wolfless omega like you?" He sneered, breaking into a hysterical laugh. The entire audience joined him. Their voices rang out in the air. I felt heat creep into my cheeks and I wanted to curl up in shame. People around us broke into hushed whispers and my ears picked up some of their words. A weak omega. That's what I was.

Fear coiled in my empty stomach as the werewolves moved toward me. My limbs were too weak to fight back, but that didn’t stop me from trying. I pushed against the ground, attempting to stand, but my knees buckled instantly. Beta Henry clicked his tongue. “Pathetic,” He muttered.

He stayed where he was, relaxed in a way that didn’t match the tension in the room. “Discrepancies,” he said simply. The man’s eyes lifted. “That’s vague.” “It’s intentional,” Uncle J replied. There was a small shift across the table. Another man leaned forward this time, resting his forearms on the table. “If you have something to say, you should say it clearly.” I didn’t speak yet. I just listened. Uncle J nodded slightly, like he expected that. “Certain financial reports don’t align with their corresponding records,” he said. “Transactions logged in one place, missing in another. Timelines that don’t match.”

"But I'm her sister…." "Biology doesn't always work that way. Siblings can be incompatible." Dr. Torres looked at Andrew. "Andrew, you showed zero antigen matches. Plus your blood type doesn't match. You're not a candidate." Andrew sank into a chair. Silent. "Mabel." Dr. Torres turned to me. "You're type O, which is correct. But your tissue typing shows two antigen matches. That's better than the others, but still not enough." The words hit like a physical blow.

The doctor stood inside with a chart in his hand. Selene held her breath. “Please just say it.” The doctor looked at them, his expression calm but serious. “There’s a complication,” he said slowly. “We tested both of your blood samples. Ma’am—your blood matches perfectly with your son’s. Sir… unfortunately, your blood type doesn’t match his.” Dorian’s hand tightened around Selene’s, though he didn’t let go. His jaw clenched, his lips pressed into a thin line. “What do you mean it doesn’t match?”

“But I won’t let him fool you. He doesn’t care about you.” Each word stung. Not because he was wrong, but because I was tired—tired of the noise, the chaos, the pain. Just then, the doctor entered, his expression unreadable. “The results are out.” My heart thundered in my chest. “Ms. Jones…” he began, “Unfortunately, you are not a match. However, Mr. Reed is a perfect match.” “What? That can’t be right!” I gasped, trembling. “What’s going on?” Liam asked, utterly confused.

"Oh please, everyone should have their own fair share of getting pranked. Those kids are my fair share. You do not have anyone else to play pranks on you except Shawn and I. Consider us your own fair share" "You are unbelievable," Adrian muttered in mock disgust. Shawn gasped in mock incredulity. "Did you just call our Alpha unbelievable?" He turned to Gabriel. "Can we call it treason?" Gabriel eyed him for a minute. "Have you marked her yet?" He asked, referring to Mitchell, Shawn's mate. "Nah. We've decided to take it slow" Adrian snorted. Shawn had been in love with Mitchell since high school. Just before she turned eighteen, which was the age most female werewolves found their mates all

I look at Marcus confused, someone else has rung. "Can you tell me over the phone please, clearly they got lost in the post." I don't want to know, but I have to. "Which ones, the original or the edited?" I stare at Marcus, what the hell is going on? "Both." "Well, the original confirms there is no match between Miss Anaya Delcox and Marcus Mancini, the edited results show there is a 98.9% match" So we aren't? "Can you please tell me which address you sent them to?" I need the address.

"Not over the phone." My stomach dropped. "Tell me now." A pause. "Brynn—" "Patricia. Tell me now." She took a breath. "There was a mislabeling error in the preliminary screening. The compatibility rating we had wasn't for this donor. Someone in the registry database had their samples cross-referenced incorrectly, and when we ran the full panel today—" She stopped. "He's not a match," I said. "He's not a match. I'm so sorry. I know how much—"