Ron X Hermione

I slid under his arms, seeking a safe place to catch my breath. I noticed a playful smile on his lips, but I chose to ignore it. "Will the transformation hurt?" I lowered my gaze and whispered. "First, your bones start to break, sending you to the ground," his eyes were closed. "Then, thick fur will grow all over your body. The limb stretching, I think that's the most thrilling part of the pain." The Alpha teased with a flicker of his tongue before continuing. "Next comes the shortening of the snout and the development of sharp claws and fangs." "Will I become irrational?" I covered my mouth, trying to control the knot that had formed in my throat. "How do you control it?" Laughing, he had already reached me and pulled me close, digging his claws not too deeply into my hip, causing a painful moan. "It takes strength, training, and having the goddess on your side, human..." He withdrew his claws, leaving only a long scratch, and returned to my chin, scratching it and collecting a drop of blood. He licked it and smiled. "Don't worry, I'll be here throughout your trial..." "To make sure I die?" With tears in my eyes, I took a few more steps towards his dangerous game, realizing that his breathing was slightly heavier. "You remind me a lot of her," he murmured, pressing his forehead against mine. "To ensure your transformation doesn't get out of control and to witness the deity's choice." With more pressure on my forehead, he forced me to take a few steps back in pain.

As she collapsed to the floor, she swore that Andrei would die at her hand. Eight years later, she reinvented herself and became his assistant. "You put something In my drink?" He asked incredulously. "Yes, I did Andrei. You thought you could kill my father and go scot-free right?. Well, karma is a bitch, isn't it?. You sent my father to jail for a crime he did not commit and he died in prison because of you. Now you know how it feels to lose everything including your life Andrei. "You're wrong Selena. I'm not an opponent that can be killed easily. I rule this game you think you are playing Selena " he hissed darkly. He smirked suddenly. "There's this special clause in my company rules which say if I were to marry anyone who owned shares in my company then their shares become automatically mine, did you forget to read that all the while you worked here" "You must be out of your mind. I will never marry you in this world or the next" she fired hotly. "It's not up to you anymore Selena Martinez, I always get what I want and as you might have noticed, I go the extra mile to get what I fucking want," he whispered darkly...

Después de que la empresa consiguiera el financiamiento, mi esposa, la presidenta Esther Arreola, estaba a punto de hacer pública nuestra relación. Pero Joel Chávez, su excompañero de la universidad, más joven que ella y recién incorporado a la empresa, subió de repente al escenario y, con una sonrisa arrogante, soltó: —Esther, ¿no crees que me estás consintiendo demasiado al hacer público lo nuestro? Esther ni siquiera lo negó. Al contrario, sonrió y de inmediato metió a Joel en uno de los proyectos clave de la empresa para inflarle el currículum. Al instante, todos los empleados presentes rompieron en aplausos y se deshicieron en elogios, como si de verdad fueran la pareja perfecta. Un colega con el que llevaba años trabajando, al ver que yo no decía nada, incluso se inclinó hacia mí y me susurró: —Felipe, ¿no eras buenísimo para quedar bien con todo el mundo? ¿Qué haces ahí parado? Ve y felicítalos. No armé ningún escándalo ni reclamé nada. Simplemente le deslicé a Joel mi credencial de jefe de proyecto y, con una generosidad fingida, dije: —Solo participar en el proyecto es poca cosa para alguien como tú. Mejor quédate con mi puesto de jefe de proyecto. Considéralo mi regalo por haber hecho pública tu relación con Esther.

คำชี้แจง สำหรับนักอ่านที่มีอายุตั้งแต่ 18 ปีขึ้นไปค่า นิโคลัส คอสต้า หรือเชฟนิค เชฟหนุ่มสุดฮ็อตวัย 33 ปี เขาหนีมารดาไปใช้ชีวิตอิสระที่เกาะอังกฤษเป็นเวลาหลายปี เพื่อเลี่ยงการถูกจับคู่ให้ จีน่า อัสตัน สาวน้อยวัย 25 ปี หญิงสาวอ่อนหวาน ที่ถูกคุณป้าเดเลียจับจองเอาไว้ให้ลูกชายของท่าน

To defuse the bomb strapped to the hostage, I had no choice—I cut off all her clothes. My clueless new wife, Dana Poole, blasted it online. She cried as she faced me. "Why not at least leave her underwear on? You were saving her, I get it—but did you have to take everything? Doesn't a girl's dignity matter? With cameras everywhere, how is she supposed to live after this? You couldn't even cover her up?" The backlash exploded. The unit benched me to calm things down. So I stopped caring. I followed procedure, no improvising, no extra effort. Then one day, at the busiest mall in the city, Dana's mom got strapped into a brand-new linked bomb. This time, the whole unit panicked.

In a world of werewolf clans divided by fierce loyalties and blood feuds, an ancient artifact known as The Crown holds the promise of ultimate power. Whispers of the prophecy drive packs into chaos, each vying to place their leader on the throne. As betrayals deepen and alliances shift, the fate of the werewolf world lies in the hands of an unlikely hero—one who must rise above their doubts to reshape the destiny of their kind.

For four years, I worked three jobs to support my husband, Edward Godfrey, while he chased his PhD and battled ALS. And somehow, in all that time, I'd never stepped foot on his campus. Not because I didn't want to. Every time I brought it up, he had some excuse ready. When graduation came, I asked to go to his hooding ceremony. He shut it down fast. "It's just a formality. A bunch of lab nerds. You'd be bored. Once I bring the diploma home, we'll have a candlelight dinner." I didn't argue. Just helped him straighten his doctoral gown. But I couldn't hide how excited I was. So I dressed up. And secretly followed him. Onstage, Edward stood beside his wheelchair, voice thick with emotion. "I want to thank my wife. She stood with me in the lab, even while pregnant, helping me grind out countless precious data points." I froze. My hand pressed against my flat stomach. Cold crept down my spine. For four years, I'd busted myself raw to support his PhD. I went from the girl everyone on campus admired to a fish seller, reeking like seafood every day. Worked so hard I miscarried twice. So who exactly was this "wife" he was thanking?

Everyone in Ieplad knows Leopoldo Vece, the Don of the Vece family, loves guns but not women—until me. Ten years into our marriage, my adoptive father, Raffaello Conti, lies dying of kidney failure. Leopoldo launches a global hunt for a donor, sparing no expense to save him. He finds her—a young, fragile woman—and spends millions solving her every problem to ensure she is ready for the transplant. On the day of the surgery, she vanishes. I rush to her home in a panic, only to find my husband holding her gently in his arms, soothing her in a soft voice. "If you're afraid of the pain, don't donate then. I'll find another donor." "Is there time?" she asks quietly. "I heard Lucia's adoptive father is at death's door." Leopoldo brushes his hand over her hair, his voice indulgent. "I'll search the world again if I have to. You're still young; this burden isn't yours to carry." As my heart shatters, my phone rings. I answer numbly. The person on the other end of the line says, "Signora Conti, we regret to inform you that Raffaello Conti just passed away. We waited as long as we could for the donor, but his body gave out five minutes ago." I return to the hospital and handle the funeral arrangements alone. After that, I call Marianna D'Andrea, the Don's mother, and say, "I agree to divorce Leopoldo. Please help me disappear."

Nang tumuntong si Kylie sa edad na bente uno, noon niya lang napagtanto ang kakaibang kakisigan ng kaniyang Ninong Ben. Nung huling kita niya pa rito ay nung bata pa siya at wala lang sa kanya ang mga karga nito. Hindi niya lubos akalain na sa muling pagkikita nila ay kakaibang pagtingin na ang meron siya sa kaniyang Ninong. Paano kung gumising na lamang siya na ang tanging kasagutan lamang sa init na nararamdaman ay ang haplos at palo ng kaniyang Ninong Ben?

Drei Tage nach meinem Tod erhielt mein Verlobter einen Anruf, um meine Leiche zu identifizieren. Er spottete nur: „Sie ist tot, na und? Ruft mich an, wenn sie unter der Erde liegt.“ Die Polizei, ohne andere Optionen, kontaktierte meine Notfallnummer – meinen Jugendfreund. Er lachte gleichgültig: „Wirklich tot? Nicht mein Problem. Verbrennt sie doch oder so..“ Dann tauchte meine Leiche im Internet auf – und plötzlich sahen beide aus wie Geister.