Re Zero Starting Novels & Stories

WOLFBANE SERIES BOOK 3 ***It is highly recommended you read book 1 (Wolfbane) and book 2 (Wolfblood) before starting this one for context and to avoid spoilers.*** *GIGI* I have no problem with secrets. It's keeping my temper in check that's turned out to be challenging… How many people can say they made the biggest mistake of their life at twelve years old? I can. I killed my wolf before I even had a chance to shift for the first time, let alone meet my fated mate. To get her back, I'll do anything, including the one thing that's forbidden to werewolves. I'm not proud of it, but my pack doesn't need to know. Not unless that jerk opens his mouth... *TYCE* I just wanted a wish granted. Let's leave it at that. As an alpha, I never expected to be accused of getting dirty with chipmunks and having my manhood called into question. But I guess that's where we're at. Gigi is equal parts gorgeous and infuriating. I already have enough problems on my plate, and resisting her is going to be the biggest one... *Content warning: This is a paranormal romance novel with dark themes containing mature adult content, offensive language, and graphic violence, and may not be suitable for young readers.*

They sold me to the Dungeon to save themselves. My own family — my brother Caleb, my mother Anya — fed me to the system like I was nothing. A sacrifice. A liability. The last thing I remembered before the darkness swallowed me whole was the relief on their faces. But I didn't die. I came back. And I came back wrong. Welcome to the ARG — where pocket dimensions bleed into the real world, and only the strong survive. Every player gets a starting ability, gear, a guild, a fighting chance. Every player except me. No ability. No gear. No guild. Just Kiera Vance, standing in a room full of veteran wolves who think I'm dead weight — and one sharp-eyed Alpha named Liam Reed who isn't quite sure what I am. Smart man. They'll call me weak. They'll call me a Luna with no bite. They'll call me crazy. They're only right about the last one. I clawed my way to the top once. I'll do it again — but this time, I won't stop until I've burned the whole system down. My name is Kiera Vance. I was the most feared player in the game. And my Alpha? He's a lunatic. Almost as bad as me.

Crystal Martini is a soon to be 18 year old junior in high school. Crystal moves to a new city and is starting at a new school. Brooks Milner is a 21 year old ex marine who lives up the street from Crystal. He befriends Crystal with one thing on his mind.

I was reborn one month before the forensic certification exam. This time, I spent my days drinking and clubbing instead of slaving away studying, for the class belle had bound me to an Achievement Transfer System in my previous life. We had prepared for the forensic certification together, and I'd burned the midnight oil while she slacked off and partied. Yet, I scored a zero and failed, while she got exactly what she wanted and passed when the results were out. The entire class praised the class belle for her talent and mocked me, saying a nobody like me could never rise above my station. Unwilling to accept it, I demanded a review of the exam. The results showed that every single one of my answers was wrong, while hers were all correct. I searched through everything from my past experiments, only to find that every certificate bore the class belle's name. The class belle then put on an innocent front and accused me of misconduct, declaring imperiously, "Dakota Saunders, you've always pretended to be hardworking in front of others. I just didn't expect you to lie for so long that you started believing it yourself! "And now you've even stolen my certificates! You're disgusting. A thief like you belongs in the sewers, not here!" I was scorned by everyone and expelled from the academy. In the end, unable to bear the blow, I jumped to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to one month before the forensic certification exam.

Cleo Carrington used to be Northvale's brightest spark—wild, fearless, impossible to pin down. And then she married Damian Joubert. The most controlled, rigid heir in their world. Damian ran like a machine. Perfect standards. Zero slack. And he expected the same from his wife. Cleo loved noise—clubs, music, bodies moving. He had every venue in the city blacklist her. She loved freedom—the blazing Afriyan sun, the northern lights in Icelorn. She raced cars. She jumped out of planes. He took her passport. Shut it all down.

Someone @'d me on Nextdoor. "Hey, penthouse girl. You're single. What do you need a whole rooftop garden for? My husband's throwing a party. We'll be needing it starting tomorrow." "Don't worry, we'll give you two hundred bucks a month for upkeep. You'll make a couple hundred for doing jack shit. You should be thrilled." I stared at the screen. It was a joke. I was Don Ricci's heir, groomed to run the South Side. But I traded that life for a paintbrush. This apartment was my sanctuary, my quiet place. That rooftop garden wasn't some building perk. It was mine. I'd paid half a million cash for the deed when I bought the place. I turned it into my sunroom studio. And now someone thinks they can have it for two hundred bucks a month? I replied with two words: "Dream on." I didn't expect the building manager and two security guards at my door the next day. Someone had filed a complaint about me "misusing community resources." And now, for the sake of "neighborly harmony," they were demanding my keys. Fine. They wanted to throw civility out the window? They were about to learn what real power felt like.

Eleanor Hale had four years of marriage, four years of quiet accusations, and finally, a daughter she’d waited a lifetime for. She never got to hold her. What she woke up to instead was a stranger’s face in a stranger’s mirror, a debt that wasn’t hers, and a countdown she couldn’t outrun. To survive, she signs her name to a marriage that’s supposed to mean nothing, a convenient arrangement with a man who wants a wife on paper and nothing more. But paper doesn’t stay paper forever. Not when he wakes her from nightmares with his arms already around her. Not when he remembers exactly how she takes her tea. Not when every quiet morning starts to feel less like a transaction and more like something she isn’t ready to lose. Somewhere across the city, the people who ended her old life are grieving her at a funeral she isn’t allowed to attend as herself. They think she’s gone. They think it’s over. She’s just getting started. A story about the body you’re given, the life you steal back, and the terrifying discovery that starting over might mean falling for the one person who isn’t supposed to matter.

Within 30 days, Niccolò Romano and I registered for divorce 18 times. The first time, Niccolò's adopted sister stole my research results, but he hired a lawyer to fight for her. Afterwards, he held me and coaxed, "If something happens to Lia, no one will dare to hire her in the future. I'm just helping her." The second time, while my plane was in distress, he was traveling around the world with Lia. His tone was helpless: "Lia has depended on me since she was little. I only look after her like a younger sister." The last time, Lia was pregnant with a child no one would claim, and he took responsibility for it. Faced with my accusation, he just sighed, a bit tired: "Lia's career is just starting to take off. If someone blackmails her with the child, her life will be ruined." "You're a woman too. Can't you understand?" This time, I didn't cry or make a scene. Instead, I calmly signed my name on the divorce agreement that he had signed in a fit of pique some time ago. Then I called my professor: "I've thought it over. I'm willing to go with you to Iceland to do research."

“You belong to me, Aria,” he growls, his nose brushing against mine. “The harder you push me away, the deeper I fall into this madness of wanting you.” “You don’t even want a mate!” I remind him, hating how small my voice sounds, and how my body sings whenever he’s this close. His breath brushes against my lips. “You’re right. I don’t. But I burn for you, Aria, and I don’t think I’ll make it through the season without tasting what’s mine.” ***** They call Ryder Drexel the Ice King of Ironclaw University, captain of the undefeated Iron Wolves, cold-blooded on the rink and untouchable off it. He doesn’t do distractions. He doesn’t do relationships. Until her. Aria Murdock is the opposite. She’s an invisible scholarship student hiding secrets that she’s spent her entire life hiding—she’s a wolf who can’t shift in a world where wolves like her are called runts and are mercilessly killed to be rid of their weak bloodline. But when an accident reveals her true scent, Ryder’s world fractures. She’s a walking death sentence. Someone undesirable to most. Off-limits because of her low rank and bloodline. And she’s his mate. Now, the Alpha heir has a choice. He can either reject the bond, or risk everything to claim her. The problem? Claiming her means breaking every rule and starting a war within his own pack. It also means revealing who Aria truly is, and she’s so much more than a runt. They’re enemies by nature, but bound by instinct and fate. In a world where packs, rules, and reputations reign, claiming her might just cost him everything, especially his heart.

I was once a beggar on the street until I met him, Zero. He took me, fed me and clothed me. He convinced himself I was a damsel in distress. But what if I tell you I was once a beggar by circumstance, but when I got older, I remained one by choice. Zero thinks his love for me will change the direction of my bullet, but what he doesn't know is that his love for me will only delay the expiration date. Follow the lives of the Satan Sniper's as they learn about love and the women who will own them.