Rain In Tagalog Novels & Stories

This is a Dark BDSM Werewolf Hockey Romance. It contains themes of dub-con, heavy power exchange, and primal play. You’ve been warned: once the Alpha claims his prize, there is no skating away. "You're trembling, Prince," Kai murmured, his voice a low, vibrating growl that settled deep in my marrow. He caught my chin, forcing me to meet a gaze that burned with a predatory green fire. "Is it the cold? Or are you finally realizing that no matter how fast you skate, you can’t outrun the leash I’ve had on you since the day our parents merged the packs?" I hissed, baring my fangs, but my knees were already betraying me. "I’ll burn this whole estate to the ground before I bow to you, Kai." He leaned in, the scent of rain and cedar suffocating my senses as he nipped the sensitive skin of my throat, right where my pulse was frantic. "Then burn it, Cain. We’ll fuck in the ashes. But when the smoke clears, you’ll still be on your knees, begging for my mark. Now... spread those legs for your Alpha." THE SUMMARY For five years, Cain Hayes and Kai Mercer have lived under the same roof at the Mercer Estate, locked in a cold war of unspoken desires and jagged hatred. To the public, they are the stars of the Northbridge hockey team—rivals on the ice, brothers by law. But behind closed doors, the dynamic is far more dangerous. When a leaked video of their private "sessions" threatens to shatter the hierarchy of the Silver-Oak Pack, the fragile peace between them vaporizes. Cain tries to escape Kai’s suffocating dominance by seeking solace in the arms of a human teammate, only to find that an Alpha’s obsession

Everyone said I was too possessive when it came to my girlfriend, Amanda Crane. When Amanda first started taking photos of her childhood friend, Ian Lewis, I ripped apart all the rolls of film. When she helped him fix his computer, I called her 100 times in an hour. And when he called her from the airport, asking her to pick him up because the rain made it impossible to get a cab, I held a knife to my throat. I told her I'd take my own life if she went to him. Fed up, Amanda shipped me off to a psychiatric hospital that same night. When I got out, I vanished. Amanda was certain I was hiding somewhere, spying on her and Ian, but I never showed up—until the celebration party for a business project three years later. Ian put his arm around Amanda and swirled the wine glass he was holding. He shot me a taunting look, remarking, "You used to get so jealous, Steven. I'm sure you no longer mind if Mandy and I drink from the same glass now, right?" He waited for me to go berserk the way I used to three years ago, but I simply moved the bottle of wine closer to them. "I don't mind at all, of course. Have as many glasses as you want. It's great to see that your relationship has been progressing so well." Amanda paused. Her eyes started to redden. She stared fixedly at me and questioned, "Why don't you feel jealous anymore, Steven?"

18+ __ Reaching forward, she ran her hand over his hard, well defined abs. “Its pretty.” Zique held her hand against him, pride shooting through him like electricity. A man’s body wasn’t something to be called pretty, but she could call his whatever she wanted to. “Thank you.” He slid her hand further down, running it along the length of his covered c*ck. “I wonder what you’d have to say about this.” The hardness made Kiara gasped and when he dropped his underwear, she was utterly flabbergasted. It was the size of her hand, unbelievable but true. “Huge...?” Zique smirked. “I thought you’d call it pretty too.” ___ As ruthless as the devil, Zique Blud reigned above all the other alpha's. He was feared by most, looked up to by many and only a few had the courage to test him. He hated the weak, detested them with his whole heart, which was exactly why he crushed them...But crushing them ended up being the reason why he was cursed by the goddess... In ten years...he needed to find his mate or the thread around his heart would tighten until it killed him. _ Kiara Cole had been locked away from the world all her life, she was weak, without a wolf...thus why the alpha of the Silver Rain pack decided to isolate her from the world... At ten, she had watched him kill her parents and now at 19 years old, she finally got a wolf, only to find out that the man who had stolen half of her life, would be the man to spend the rest of it with her. # Dark Werewolf Romance#

The night I was supposed to become Luna of Bloodmoon Pack, my fated mate rejected me in front of everyone. Caden Ahearn looked me in the eyes and said the words that ripped our bond apart. His brother accused me of attacking him. His mother smiled while I vomited on the ceremony platform. And the man I loved—the man who'd held my hands until now—walked away like I was nothing. I was banished at dawn. No pack. No family. No future. I ended up bleeding in the rain on enemy territory, half-dead from rejection sickness, waiting for rogues to finish what Caden started. That's when he found me. Damian Vargasin. The Savage Alpha. The most dangerous wolf in the region. He carried me home like I weighed nothing, protected me like I mattered, looked at me like I'm meant to him. He said there was no price for his help. No expectations. No debt. But his wolf recognized something in mine. And the way he touches me—gentle, careful, like I'm precious. Now Caden wants me back. His mother wants me dead. And the truth about who really destroyed my life is about to explode. I'm carrying secrets. I'm carrying power I don't understand. They say the Moon Goddess doesn't make mistakes. But if she meant for me to end up here—in the arms of my enemy, hunted by my past, falling for a man who could destroy me—what does that say about her plan? What does that say about me?

` It was a cool, breezy and stormy night. Rain came down in sheets, as a dark figure stood before a house. The house was pretty ordinary, white with blue shutters; it didn't have more than two bedrooms. It looked like a cozy little family home with flowers and shrubs lining the front lawn, and then the smell from the pellet stove smoke invaded his nostrils. He took a deep breath and pulled out an old, rusted compass from his black trench coat. It looked like it could have been from the 14th century, the small, brass disc was dented and the Victorian designs were faded. He studied it as it pointed east, towards the small house. He looked the house over carefully, looking for the best entrance, before proceeding towards the side to gaze into the window. Inside you can see the small kitchen; the brand new, all black appliances off set the linoleum floor. Cabinets filled almost every wall of the small space that made it look more crowded than it should have been. The kitchen opened to a larger room which seemed to be used as a living room and a dining room all at once. The whole house looked crowded, with the furniture in the living room all touching except for a small gap to walk through and the dining room was so close to the sofa, it could have been sitting on it. He stepped back into the shadows as he watched a young couple enter the kitchen. The wife was tall and slender, had strawberry blond hair formed around her face accenting her jaw-line and her deep blue eyes stopped your heart as you got lost in them. Her fair complexion was silky and complimented her soft face.

Seven years I spent with Jason Shaw, but I never got a ring. Rather, all I received was an invitation to another person's wedding. That day, as a wedding planner, I was at the rehearsal, making last-minute adjustments. Looking up, I saw the man whom I waited every day to reply to my messages, walking down the aisle, arm in arm with another bride. "Her boyfriend had something urgent come up, so I'm filling in for him," he said, standing straight, his tone light, a small smile on his lips. But his eyes couldn't hide the hurt, like a child who lost his favorite toy. As if that wasn't enough, he told me to hand over my wedding plan. He patted me on the shoulder, saying sincerely, "There's no rush for us. We've got plenty of time. I promise I'll give you an even better wedding. Just help me out this time. It's not like I'm not going to marry you." He didn't know that I had revised the wedding plan hundreds of times, even counted and recounted the bouquets seven times. To me, it wasn't mere work—it was a dream I held for five long years. I didn't argue anymore, just quietly stepped aside. Later, I lay alone in a hospital bed, listening to the rain tapping against the window from outside. I counted each drop as the hours slipped through my fingers. Perhaps those who worked so hard to create happiness for others had lost the right to their own happiness.

Yvonne Jamison wants to get married after being with Jared Ford for seven years. She prepares her own wedding dress, but he doesn't pop the question. On the day they're scheduled for a pre-marriage medical checkup, she waits for him at the hospital from day to night. Yet, he's busy throwing a celebration for his new secretary. The secretary shares a social media update and tags Yvonne in it. The update comes with a photo of a diamond ring from Jared and a suggestive caption. Yvonne doesn't cause a fuss. She likes the update, quits her job, and goes home for a blind date. Jared is unfazed. He's sure she won't actually leave him. "I'll just give her the cold shoulder for a few days to teach her a lesson. She'll be back soon enough." However, the days pass, and Yvonne doesn't return. Jared loses his cool. For the first time ever, he submits to Yvonne. "Have you had enough of this tantrum? Come back if you still want to marry me. This is your last chance!" "Mr. Ford, Ms. Jamison has already met someone else on a blind date." Later, Yvonne shares a photo of her marriage certificate on her social media. Jared, who has always been arrogant and aloof, loses his mind. He kneels outside her house in the rain for three days and nights. "Please come back to me, Yvonne!" The door opens, and a man clad in nothing but a towel around his waist emerges. He says hoarsely, "My wife has fallen asleep from her exhaustion. Please leave, Mr. Ford."

Three months before my wedding, I found my fiancé buried deep inside my maid of honor. ​I gave Leo five years of my life. I ironed his shirts, managed his stress, and sacrificed my own dreams to build our perfect future. My reward? Standing in the doorway of our bedroom, listening to him call me "boring" while he ruined our bed with my best friend. ​Shattered, humiliated, and completely alone, I ran out into the freezing, torrential rain with nothing but the clothes on my back. I thought my life was over. I thought I had hit rock bottom. ​Until a massive black umbrella blocked out the storm, and a heavy, expensive suit jacket was draped over my trembling shoulders. ​Alexander. Leo’s incredibly wealthy, terrifyingly ruthless Godfather. ​He is older. Untouchable. The most feared man in the city and the patriarch who controls Leo’s entire inheritance. He is the ultimate forbidden fruit. ​He didn't look at me with pity as I sat bleeding and broken on the pavement. He looked at me with a dark, consuming hunger that made my breath hitch. Kneeling in the wet street, he wiped a tear from my jaw and whispered a promise that would change my life forever: ​"Tell me who did this to you, and I will ruin his life by morning." ​I only wanted a place to dry off. I only wanted a little bit of revenge. I never meant to let him back me against the marble counters of his penthouse. I never meant to crave his rough hands, his possessive growls, or the intoxicating danger of his bed. ​If Leo’s family finds out, it will destroy Alexander’s empire. ​But once the Godfather claims you... there is no going back.

“I want you to ruin me. To fuck me like nothing else matters.” Zoriana’s breath hitched, the air in her lungs turning to ice as she stared into the darkened eyes of the man pinning her against the warehouse door. Outside, the pack’s founding day celebration was a blur of music and laughter, but in the shadows, there was only the scent of rain and the dangerous heat radiating off Alpha Tristan. “You’re mated to my brother, Zoriana,” he growled, his voice a dark, jagged rasp against her ear. His mouth brushed her pulse point, sending a shiver of pure, traitorous electricity through her blood. “Do you have any idea what I’ll do to you if I stop being a gentleman?” Zoriana didn't care about the crown, didn't care about the Royal bond or the destiny written in the stars. She arched her back, her nails grazing the hard muscle of his shoulders as she pulled him closer. “Then stop being a gentleman, Tristan. Show me the monster everyone says you are.” *** Zoriana’s world shattered overnight when her mate’s betrayal turned her from a beloved Luna into a rogue. She did not break. Rising from the ashes, Zoriana founded her pack and built an empire that shook the very foundations of the shifter kingdoms. The higher she rises, the deeper she is trapped in a web of deadly intrigues and twisted truths. Zoriana is caught between the Royal Alpha she is sworn to support and his ruthless brother—a devilish enemy who ignites a forbidden, soul-searing desire she cannot control. In a world of poisoned blood and lethal lies, Zoriana must choose: the crown she fought for, or the man who could be her undoing? Content Warning: Explicit Language, Graphic Violence, and Mature Sexual Themes.

Bianca is dying. Acute myeloid leukemia, stage three. The family doctor told me on the phone—bone marrow transplant, only option, perfect match. Identical twins share ninety-nine percent compatibility. I crushed the diagnosis report. My name was at the top: Gemma Blackwell. But the doctor trembled, whispering apologies. A clerical error. The sick twin was Bianca. The cure was me. I had to get home. Rain lashed the taxi windows. I rehearsed the scene: Father setting down his cigar, Mother gasping, me explaining the mix-up. The report has my name, but the blood work is Bianca's. I can fix this before it's too late. My phone lit up. Family group chat. Father's message was short: [Gemma is terminal. Bianca forbidden from donation. Family decision.] My blood turned to ice. They had seen the misdelivered file. They thought I was the one dying—and they had voted to let me rot. When I pushed open the door and saw Father, I felt it— the temperature drop, the world freezing around me. Tears burned my eyes. I couldn't stop them. "Father," I said, my voice barely steady. "I have a question for you." He looked up from his cigar, annoyed. "If it were Bianca dying," I whispered. "Would you have made me give her my marrow?" The room went silent. He set down the cigar. A long pause. "No," he said finally. "Of course. We have resources. We would find another donor. We would never ask you to take that risk." I smiled a little. Just a small, sad smile. "Good," I said softly. "That's exactly what you said. Don't regret this."