P:tree

DAILY UPDATE — I don't love you. — I muttered. He set his wine aside and stood up, slowly closing the distance between us, and with his fingertips he touched my chin, his gaze wandering to my mouth and then lingering on my eyes. — I don't love you either, princess, and I don't intend to. He said those words with complete coldness and walked away sitting down again and it infuriated me. — Why fight a tournament for my hand then? All this because I'm a princess? — I asked like a shot. — You are a Lancaster princess and I need a worthy heir. — I wish my uterus was dry as the desert sands, Commander. He glared at me and I saw a flash of anger in his black eyes, but at the same instant he hid it and put his cynical smile in place. — So in that case we would have to try many times, dear, until your uterus becomes less dry. I would try for the rest of my life even. — He countered maliciously. In a tournament by the hand of Princess Helena Lancaster her destiny to cross with John Chase, a fearsome commander and warrior, with a peculiar personality. He was everything she detested, possessive, audacious, authoritarian, and dominant in the extreme, and he was the who had the best chance of winning the tournament for her hand. But John Chase was much more than a commander of Corvo Island, he was hiding a dark secret that would change her life forever. An island full of mysterious men, with their own secrets and conflicts, and she would be their lady, soon Helena would discover that a great danger lurks on the island, could she trust her husband to protect her?

After an attack by rogues, Angel, at the age of 6, was orphaned by his mother and was sent by his father to live with his uncle in England. Behind, he leaves the alpha's children, his best friends. After 12 years, when he finally returned to the pack that saw him born, Angel was no longer the little kid who left but a beautiful boy with blond hair and light eyes, tall, strong, and athletic. After a rogue attack, Angel loses his mother. At the age of 6, he is sent by his father to live with his uncle in England. Behind, he leaves the alpha's children, his best friends. After 12 years, when he finally returned to the pack that saw him born, Angel was no longer the little kid who left but a beautiful boy with blond hair and light eyes, tall, strong, and athletic. The life changes that he had made were not easy. Choosing between his uncle's pack, the school he attended, the human boyfriend he had left behind, and the pack where the father who didn't love him was the Beta, where a more rural life awaited him, left him on edge. Everything becomes more complicated when the friend who turned his back on him, hurting him and making him cry when he was only five years old, introduces himself as his mate. Will Angel accept all the changes that life brings or give up and return to England and the arms of his human boyfriend? This is the story of an Angel: not an angel with wings but one full of love in his heart.

Sebastion Jones is a 28-year-old CEO of the company which he inherited from his father at the age of 21. He studied, worked and arrived where he is now, with perseverance and at the expense of his youth. Theodore Hanson is the youngest son of a wealthy family, who puts money in his account and kicks his ass when he confesses to being gay. Both are lonely. Both are very different, and yet they have so much in common. When they meet, Sebastian feels an enormous desire to help the boy, and Theo only wishes that Sebastian was gay. As circumstances brought them closer, Sebastian felt confusion set in. That kid messed with him more than he wanted to believe. He had been a womanizer, not a gay. What he felt for the kid was nothing more than affection, he thought from the height of his heterosexuality. What will happen when you bring together a loner who lives surrounded by gold diggers and a boy who is desperately looking for someone that loves him?

Three cursed hybrid siblings are on a quest to unleash their curse that had been on their back for hundreds of years. but things went bad when their younger sibling Xen fell in love with a werewolf girl that had to die in order to get their curse of them.

Freya Rose has an epic fight ahead of her, but she's ready for it. Coming up against fallen angel Azael isn't going to be easy, but with her pack of hybrids beside her, she feels confident that victory will be hers. But as we know from past experience, nothing in Freya's life ever goes to plan, and I have a feeling that now is going to be no different.In this fifth episode of the Freya Rose series, we meet some new fantastical characters, and we lose some much-loved ones too. With plenty of drama, humor, and new love interests, I doubt you're going to want to miss what happens next.In this book, we also have a character called Lucy popping in for a visit. Lucy is from the Angels and Demons series written by the amazing J.C. Seal. She has collaborated with me and helped me add in some new excitement, and possibly a happily ever after for one of my characters.I know right!? A happily ever after, in my series? I hear poor Freya asking, "what's one of those?"Anywho, jump into the next instalment of the Freya Rose series to find answers to many of the questions you had at the end of Heartbroken By A Hunter.

Après que ma vingtième demande de lien mental ait été ignorée par mes parents, j'ai foncé vers le Conseil des affaires de la meute. Le rapport médical en main, j'ai lancé sans préambule : « Bonjour, je veux renoncer à mon identité au sein de la meute... et IMMÉDIATEMENT ! » Dix minutes plus tard, mes parents ont fait irruption dans la salle, traînant ma sœur adoptive Elsa. Tous les trois avaient l'air terrifié. Mon père, un Bêta, les crocs apparents et les griffes frémissantes, s'est avancé en hurlant : « Tu n'es qu'une enfant gâtée en quête d'attention ! Arrête ton numéro, tu me fais honte ! » Ma mère, médecin légiste de la meute, a arraché mon rapport, y a jeté un coup d'œil et a ricané : « Tu as falsifié ça juste pour qu'on s'intéresse à toi ? Tu as toujours été une menteuse pathologique. » Elsa, accrochée à leurs manches, sanglotait : « C'est de ma faute… Je devrais pas insister pour organiser cette cérémonie de transformation… Je suis désolée, mais Jennifer, arrête de mentir pour manipuler la culpabilité de papa et maman ! » Je me suis calmement essuyé le sang qui coulait de mon nez, me suis redressée et ai répété à la conseillère : « Je n'ai plus de famille depuis longtemps. Effacez toutes mes traces du registre de la meute. Mes funérailles sont dans trois jours, et je veux pas les retarder. »

Nulle n’échappe à son destin. Le sien bascula le jour de ses seize ans. Alors que tous attendaient sa première transformation, Mira vit sa chevelure brune virer au gris argenté. Un signe redouté. Une malédiction ancienne. Et elle en remplissait toutes les conditions. Du jour au lendemain, la fille choyée de Daniel Lancaster, Alpha le plus respecté du sud , devint une paria. Son nom, jadis vénéré, ne suffisait plus à la protéger. Méprisée, rejetée, elle survécut uniquement grâce à l’amour inconditionnel de son père, qui refusa de la bannir malgré la pression du Conseil. Mais les anciens avaient vu juste , elle était maudite car le malheur s’abattit sur la meute. Une nuit, Mira vit l’impensable. Un Alpha au pelage argenté brisa le cou de son père sous ses yeux. Elle s’enfuit. Elle pensa à son frère, sûrement mort. À sa meute, détruite. À sa vie, anéantie. Durant cinq ans, elle marcha vers le Nord, traquant la Sorcière-Corbeau, son dernier espoir de briser la malédiction. Et puis le destin, cruel, la rattrapa. Capturée par celui qu’elle haïssait plus que tout l’Alpha assassin , elle tenta de fuir. Mais avant même de comprendre, les crocs de cet Alpha étaient plantés dans sa chair. Il venait de la marquer. Et, devant tous, Tristan déclara froidement : — Elle est mon esclave. Le silence fut total. Tous étaient stupéfaits. Elle, brisée. Mais au fond de ses yeux brillait encore une chose , la rage.

Avant le mariage, j'ai découvert que j'étais enceinte de plus de deux mois. Clément Rousseau, légèrement ivre, a caressé mon ventre en plaisantant : « Chloé Martin, je ne suis pas prêt à être père, on ne pourrait pas garder cet enfant, d'accord ? » J'ai répondu calmement, le cœur déjà vide : « D'accord. » Dans ma vie précédente, j'avais insisté pour garder cet enfant, tandis qu'Élise Morel avait fait une fausse couche et ne pouvait plus tomber enceinte. Clément m'en avait voulu à cause de cela et m'avait traitée avec une froideur extrême après notre mariage. Et même mon fils, que j'avais mis au monde après un accouchement difficile frôlant la mort, avait pleuré en réclamant Élise comme sa mère. Plus tard, après un accident de voiture et une hémorragie, le père et le fils m'avaient dépassée sans un regard. Ils s'étaient précipités pour assister à l'accouchement d'Élise. À l'étage, j'avais perdu tout mon sang et j'étais morte. En bas, ils avaient agité des bâtons lumineux pour fêter ensemble l'arrivée d'une nouvelle vie. Dans cette nouvelle vie, je n'avais plus l'intention de m'abandonner ni de suivre un chemin dévoyé. J'ai composé le numéro du directeur, « Je suis prête à participer à l'expédition scientifique en Antarctique. »

Mi amigo de la infancia prometió casarse conmigo una vez que alcanzáramos la edad adecuada —pero en mi ceremonia de boda, él le dio el anillo a mi hermanastra, Sol Huarte. En ese tiempo, era Víctor Lowell, el temible heredero de la mafia, quien me había salvado anunciando públicamente que me había amado por años. Durante los cinco años de matrimonio, él cumplía cada deseo que yo tenía, incluso aquellos que mencionaba de manera casual. Yo realmente creía que era el centro de su mundo. Todo eso cambió cuando me topé con folder clasificado mientras limpiaba su repisa de libros. La primera página era un archivo sobre Sol, con tres palabras en rojo impresas en negrita: “Prioridad de protección.” Le seguía un reporte de misión que yo conocía demasiado bien. En la noche de la misión, hubo un atentado en mi contra. Mi sangre casi se derramó por completo antes de que me salvaran. Cuando desperté en el hospital, descubrí que había perdido a un bebé que no sabía que estaba esperando. Lloré amargamente en los brazos de Víctor, pero no le hablé del bebé. No quería que se preocupara más por mí. Ahora, finalmente me doy cuenta —Sol también había sido atacada esa noche, y las órdenes de Víctor habían sido: “Salven primero a Sol.” Mis lágrimas mojaron el papel, corriendo la escritura. —Está bien —dije suavemente, pero con firmeza en el silencio—. Si mi matrimonio ha sido toda una mentira, voy a desaparecer de su vida. Para siempre.

Three women. And maybe more... Three stories. And more... All soaked in desire that doesn't care about rules, vows, or shame. These aren't tales of love-they're confessions of raw, hungry need. Lust that makes your cünt throb, your cöck twitch, your breath catch. Pages moist with sweat, wet with cūm, dripping with sin. Fingers, lips, tongues, hands-everything presses, slides, and fūcks in ways that make your pulse race. You'll read about pūssies dripping, cöcks hard and throbbing, mouths gagging and sūcking, āss cheeks spread, tongues sliding inside folds, fingers plunging deep. Every page pulses with heat, with mōans you can feel, with bodies colliding and fücking without mercy. Inside, nothing is sacred. Nothing is safe. A married woman spreads wide for her forbidden lover. A professor trembles as her student takes her mouth. A stranger is bound and worshiped, every inch of her body devoured. And that's just the beginning. Every filthy craving, every desperate mōan, every secret you've never dared whisper-it's here. Women devour women. Men ravage men. Lovers cross every line they shouldn't. So go on. Pretend your fingers aren't twitching to turn the page. Pretend your thighs aren't already wet. Pretend your cöck isn't straining. But once you give in... once your eyes slide across the first word... you'll feel it- the slow, dirty pull between your thighs, the rush of want crawling through you, your body answering before your mind does. And from that moment- you don't just read it. You become it. Your püssy, your cöck, your jūices, your mōans, your filthy, trembling need-all mine to claim, to taste, to drive wild. So tell me-would you be mine? Would you dare turn these cūm-stained pages?