Poison Rain

Megan Hurley orchestrated a bullying scheme to drive a wedge between me and my childhood friend, Eugene. I fell into her trap as she intended, but only saved Eugene Carson. The thugs she hired, however, proved reckless. As a result, she accidentally died. This enraged Eugene to the point of hatred. He was convinced I had set up the bullying that led to Megan's death. On our wedding anniversary, he pushed me off a high building, his face twisted with relentless fury. "This is what you owe me and Megan. Sherlyn, you deserve to die!" When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day of the bullying. This time, I didn't intervene. Later, he knocked on my window in the rain, saying hoarsely in despair, "Sherlyn, why do you no longer care about me?"

My fiancé put my young stepmother's crown on her head — the crown that should have been mine. I was the one who lifted him from a nobody Alpha to the throne. I gave him my Pack, my resources, everything. But he said, “She's my fated mate.” Then he forced poison past my lips. I died. The Moon Goddess gave me one more chance. I opened my eyes at my twenty-third birthday party. This time, I wouldn't build his kingdom. I had found my weapon: my ex's greatest enemy — the most powerful Alpha, Azrael. But after hearing my plan, Azrael set only one condition: “Divorce him first. Then marry me.” A contract marriage? A convenient deal? Fine. I took it. But when the day came that I ground them into the dirt — I wondered if the most powerful Alpha still wanted to let me go.

I am Ivy Blackthorne, the Luna of the Graystone pack and a princess of the White Wolf royalty. Tomorrow, when the full moon rises, I will personally place the heirloom upon my nine-year-old pup, Lucas Gowling, as both his mother and Luna. Lucas is not only my pup with my Alpha mate, Alexander Gowling, but he is also the Child of Prophecy foretold to lead the Graystone pack to glory. For nine years, I have believed that moment will be the most perfect in my life. But three minutes ago, I caught a faint yet chillingly bitter scent in my breakfast. It is wolfsbane, a rare poison that can kill wolves. My blood runs cold. Who would poison my food? I force myself to stay calm and not react immediately. I lift my bowl and pretend to drink its contents, but I secretly pour it into a napkin under the table. A more terrifying thought forms in my mind—if my breakfast is poisoned, then what about Lucas' food? I shoot to my feet right away. Without even stopping to grab a coat, I rush toward the training grounds in the back of the mountains. Before I reach it, I hear Lucas' voice from the woods toward the north. "Mother, did I do well today? I watch her eat breakfast with my own eyes." I freeze like I was hit by a bolt of lightning. Trembling, I push aside the bushes, only to see someone unexpected standing there. It is Sophia Crow, Alexander's childhood sweetheart, whom he had supposedly cut off from his life long ago. She crouches slightly and wipes Lucas' sweat off his brow, her movements intimate and natural. "Very good. Just one more day. After the succession ceremony tomorrow, you won't need to call her 'Mother' anymore," says Sophia. Lucas replies, "I've grown tired of calling her Mother for a long time. If she dies, can I openly call you 'Mother'?" Sophia gently pulls Lucas into her arms. "Of course. You are my pup to begin with." In that instant, every breath I take feels suffocating. The pain is unbearable. The pup I raised for nine years is actually the illegitimate child of my mate and his childhood sweetheart.

The year I was reborn was the year the vampire war began. The first thing I did was get rid of the pup. My mate's pup. Alpha Lucas's. In my last life, he covered for his childhood friend, Sarah, when she mated a vampire. He took my pure-blood pup and swapped him with her half-breed bastard. They branded me a traitor. Tortured me to death in a silver dungeon. And my own son, brainwashed by Sarah, stood over my corpse and told me to rot in hell. When I opened my eyes again, I was three months pregnant. I didn't hesitate. I walked straight to the witch's hut and drank the poison she gave me. But as the life drained away, I uncorked another bottle: an expensive Mimic Potion. It fakes a pup's heartbeat. It gives off the scent of an expecting mother. Lucas wants a child to take the fall for Sarah's crime. Fine. I'll give him a show. This time, I have no weakness.

“I won’t be Lorenzo Greco’s breeding incubator!” With those sharp words, Victoria Bianchi turned down the deal offered by the most powerful Alpha in the city. She ran from home, chasing the love of a man who rejected her the second he realized she could never use her family’s power again. Now she’s cornered. And with the werewolf race facing an infertility crisis, she has to choose which poison to swallow... Either she becomes a breeding Omega for an entire pack, or she gives birth to the heir of the ruthless Greco family. Because fate seems obsessed with binding her to Patriarch Lorenzo Greco, and now she has to submit to the Alpha she once despised. Lorenzo doesn’t forget. And even if her scent is driving him wild and the bond between them is undeniable, now that he has Victoria in his hands, he’s going to teach her a lesson she’ll never be able to shake…

Tia flees her own engagement party in her wedding dress after discovering her fiancé is using their marriage to steal her inheritance and sell her family's drug patents to criminals. She crashes her car in the rain on a remote road. Then was found by the mafia king, Dante Vitale. He was on his way to kill her fiance for a separate betrayal. When he realizes who she is, he sees an opportunity: she can testify to what her fiance planned, giving Dante legal ammunition. But first, he needs to keep her alive, because her fiance has already sent men to silence her. Assassins are hunting her, she has nowhere to go, and she just threw herself into the arms of the most dangerous man in the city. He saves her life within the first chapter. She owes him everything, but trusts him with nothing.

Today is my birthday. But my wife, Talia Ford, tells me that she can't spend time with me today. She needs to accompany her uncle, Adam Ford, to his physical checkup. I'm about to convince Talia to stay with me when a row of comments suddenly pops up in front of my eyes. "Stop wasting your breath. Just let her go. "In your previous life, Talia insisted on keeping her uncle company, so you could only return to your research lab to work. But you predicted that the dead volcano located next to Bareyard Village would erupt tonight. So, you forcibly stopped Talia and made her go back to the village to save her grandpa. "But when her uncle went for the physical checkup on his own, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Engulfed by despair, he took his own life by jumping off the hospital. "After he died, Talia pinned the blame on you. She bought some potent rat poison and poisoned your food, thus killing you."

I stood at the edge of Ironwood territory, boots sinking into mud as cold seeped through my coat. I hated being this close to their land. It smelled like wet dog, testosterone, and trouble. “You’re late, witch.” The voice hit low and deep, vibrating through the ground before it reached my ears. I didn’t flinch. I refused to give him that. I turned slowly, amethyst eyes narrowing as I found him at the tree line. Guilermo Santander. He stepped into the gray light, rain sliding off his broad frame. Six-foot-five of pure menace. Dark hair plastered to his forehead, silver streaks catching the gloom, and those amber eyes—burning straight through me. “I’m not late,” I said calmly, though my pulse spiked. “You wolves just don’t understand patience.” He stopped three feet away. My skin prickled as the runes along my ribs flared hot, reacting to the dense magic rolling off him. Suffocating. Intoxicating. “And you witches don’t understand territory,” Guilermo said. He didn’t sound feral. He sounded tired—like a man carrying a century of weight on deceptively young shoulders. He leaned in and sniffed near my neck. I stiffened. “You smell like sage and burnt sugar,” he murmured, voice dropping, darker now. “It’s giving me a headache.” “Then stop breathing,” I snapped. One corner of his mouth lifted, a flash of sharp canine. “Make me.” The air between us snapped tight. My magic stirred, violet haze curling from my fingertips without permission, brushing the leather of his jacket. He didn’t pull away. He leaned closer. And standing there in the freezing rain with a man who could tear my throat out, I realized two things: Elder Sibal was wrong—Guilermo wasn’t a monster to be chained. And I was in serious trouble.

For my birthday, my husband, Don Damien, gave me his dead wife’s pearls. I wore them to the dinner party. My enraged stepson, Leo, doused me in red wine. I became the laughingstock of the party. “You whore,” he hissed. “You think wearing my mother’s jewelry makes you her?” He stared at me, his eyes cold as ice. Then he screamed. "Get out of my house." But his mother died when he was a baby. I raised him. Someone had whispered poison in his ear. They told him I was the one who killed his mother. Now he thinks I'm a scheming bitch who tricked his father. And his father? My husband? He never saw me. He only saw Krista’s ghost. My heart didn't break. It shattered. They didn't love me. They didn't even care. So I walked. Then why, after I was finally gone, did they come crawling back, begging me to return?

A Werewolf's Vow: Mated by the Letter To my dearest stranger, My day has been so tough to the point that I almost wanted to end my life. Wanted to slash my throat with a knife, drink and eat something with poison, or even planned to drown myself. Why was the world so mean to me? Why is my life this miserable? And why can they just leave me alone? I can't take it anymore. I only wanted to live a normal life, away from humiliation, deprivation, and bad luck. So, I'm writing this letter, thinking you might hear me out. Funny, but this is the only way I could express my thoughts. And for the record, this has been my eighth and final letter to send off. And whoever you are, it was nice meeting you. Hopefully, when you get the chance to read this letter, you'd send me something in response. For us to know each other better. I'll be waiting. Love, Joshua Craig.