Shadow Cove Mga Nobela at Kwento

“You should hate me,” He said softly, his cold gaze searching her warm eyes. She just looked up at him, a tired smile on her face. “I'm done. I don't have the strength to hate anyone anymore.” “Then you'll learn,” He murmured. “I'm not the kind of man you survive loving.” ****** Yara is born without a wolfㅡ an outcast to her own pack. Betrayed by her own family, she is banished and falls into the arms of the one man she's never supposed to meet. The lycan king. The one who everyone fears. She's his second chance. He's her last. But fate has a cruel way of playing and the stakes begin to get higher. Will they prevail? Or will the truth tear them apart before they can?

"You know what happens when you run, spitfire." Tobias nips my lower lip with his teeth then soothes the sting with the gentle caress of his tongue. "I catch you!" --- I should have known that Tobias Landry was behind the circus of my troubles. He, who once was a man I adored in my past life, is now a man who leaves nothing but devastation in his wake everywhere he turns. He can pretend all he likes that he is innocent, but the slight twitch in his left eye says a completely different story. I will fight him to the end to keep the bakery that I have poured my sweat, blood, and tears into! Even, if that means that I have to marry him and give in to his sexual desires. My name is Keri Appleton and this is a dangerous and sultry tale about lies, secrets, and the fine line between love and obsession.

"I want you... Wolf," She whispers sweetly, taking my bottom between her teeth and she lightly sucks on it with a moan leaving her lips. She releases my lip, her hands move to the buckle of my slacks and she loosens it. I clamp my eyes shut, leaning my head against the doorframe with a silent plea hanging on the tip of my tongue that I don't lose contro,l and take her like a savaged beast. --- LOVING wolf was like a chaotic thunderstorm engulfing me. He was beautiful, unpredictable, and brutally ruthless. Someone like me doesn't belong in his world. Used as a pawn, I find myself falling into the wrong hands time and time again. BUT I always end back up in the hands that make my body burn with fever, my heart pound with desire, and my blood boil, with contempt. He is my Wolf, and I am his Red to our screwed-up fairytale love story.

After the death of my father, I was left to fight on my own. I am a hybrid. Part Lycan and Light Oracle. They call me the Blessed One. I am destined to accomplish great feats, save those who cannot save themselves, and marry my fated mate. The only issue is that I have no idea who my fated mate is. There are two prospective males in my life, and each of them ignites the blazing inferno that yearns to consume me Alpha Bastion, leader of the Pack Moon Stone. He takes me in and things start to spiral out of control. Then there is Zeb, he is an Alpha Nightingale Warrior from the planet of Morzovia. As I struggle to maintain a sliver of hope in my life's downward spiral, I find solace in both of their arms.

My parents always said the world had no sympathy for the weak. So from the moment my younger brother and I could walk, they put us through what they called the 'Strong Child Program.' At five years old, we had to run five kilometers every day. If we could not finish, we were not allowed to eat. At seven, my brother broke his arm. My parents refused to let the doctors use anesthesia, saying enduring pain was a lesson every strong person had to learn. At nine, I burned with a 104℉ fever. Instead of taking me to the hospital, they wiped my body with ice water and forced me to endure it because 'sick children grow stronger immunity.' Then, on the first day of summer vacation, my father announced this year's special training: We were going to learn to swim in the Roaring Spine River. No life jackets. No safety gear. "You only learn after choking on water a few times," my father said. But my brother choked over a hundred times and still could not swim. I desperately swam toward him, trying to pull him back to shore, but somehow the distance between us only kept growing. I called my father, screaming for help, begging him to call emergency services. But after listening to me, he only snorted coldly. "Who learns swimming without swallowing some water? "Your brother isn't made of paper. "Stop yelling and focus on learning to swim." But by then, my brother had already been swept away by the current…

My CEO husband, Clayton Lockwood, was convinced I was a gold digger. Every time he went to comfort his first love during her depressive episodes, he would buy me a limited-edition bag. After half a year of marriage, my walk-in closet was filled with them. After giving ninety-nine bags, he noticed I had changed. I no longer cried my heart out or argued until I was hoarse when he visited his first love. I also did not brave the storm and cross the city anymore just because he said he wanted to see me. I only asked him for a rosary for our unborn child. When I mentioned our child, Clayton’s gaze softened. “Once Ruby’s condition improves, we’ll go to the hospital for a checkup first, then get a rosary.” I obediently agreed. Little did he know that I had a miscarriage ten days earlier. I had also prepared a divorce agreement that was ready for his signature.

My mother-in-law was somehow allergic to me. As long as I was in the house, her skin would break out in rashes, and she would struggle to breathe. The hospital could not find any specific allergen. They said it might be something to do with my scent. To give his mother some relief, my husband Keith asked me to stay in a hotel every weekend. I quietly packed away everything that was mine. I even stopped wearing my favorite perfume just so I could stay home for one extra day. However, her condition only grew worse. The days I was allowed to be home dropped from five days a week to three, and eventually to just one. I never complained. I only hoped she would get better soon. One day, I left work early to pick up a document from home. I heard laughter from inside the house. "Mom, your trick really works! Every time you cough, my brother kicks that woman out." It was Keith's god-sister Caroline, who had studied abroad. My mother-in-law laughed smugly. "Caroline, you're the best. You can cook, and you give great massages. You're nothing like that useless block of wood who's always in the way. "Keith, hurry up and marry Caroline already. Get rid of that woman!" Keith's voice was full of indulgence. "Mom, don't say things like that. Caroline, look at the perfume I bought you. You've worked hard lately." All strength left my body as I stood frozen at the door.

I've gone to the church to pray for my son, Robert Scott. On the way home, my carriage is overturned because the horses suffer from a shock. When I wake up, I look at my family gathering around my bed. Then, I decide to pull a prank on them. "Sorry, but who are you?" I do my best to suppress the smile that threatens to appear on my face. I want to see how my family is going to comfort me now that I have "amnesia". Will Mom and my husband, Jeremy Scott, take my hands comfortingly? Or will Robert lunge at me while crying out to me? What I don't expect is to see my family breathing sighs of relief after their initial shock has faded away. Mom is the first one to speak up with a hint of relief coloring her tone. "Since you've already forgotten all about us, then it's fine. Maisie, you're actually the adopted daughter of the Liddell family. Amber is the actual heiress of the Liddell family." Jeremy points at me while telling Robert, "Robbie, you must address her as Aunt Maisie." Before I can recover from my shock, I see my own son, whom I'm willing to sacrifice my life to protect, running over to hug Amber Liddell, the fake heiress, happily. "Mom, I've spent the whole day playing outside! Oh, I miss you so much!" So, it turns out that my case of amnesia is exactly what this family wants. In that case, I might as well abandon this farce of a family.

On the day the male influencer patient was discharged, he posted a tearful video accusing my chaste, principled doctor wife of sexually assaulting him. In the clip, he cowered in a corner of the hospital, trembling, his clothes disheveled. With a terrified cry of "Dr. Shelby," he abruptly cut the footage. Overnight, my wife became a monster in a white coat—public enemy number one across the internet. We begged him, again and again, to come forward and clarify the truth. Instead, he posted an injury assessment report and wept about being bullied by his doctor. My wife had no way to defend herself. She was suspended pending investigation—and in the end, she leapt from the thirtieth floor. I endured humiliation and waited for the truth to surface. When it finally did, I obtained a reexamination report that proved her innocence. But by then, no one cared about the truth anymore. And I, consumed by despair, died of cancer. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day that patient was first admitted. This time, I begged my wife to take leave—I wanted to take her away from this doomed fate. But my gentle wife wrapped her arms around me, her eyes red, and said, "Don't be afraid, honey. This time… I won't run away."

Being forged from the trauma that clings to your soul like an additional layer of sin has an elegance to it. When my father and I buried my sister, falling in love with her first love wasn't on the agenda. Don Alessandro Valentino has something I want. Something he refuses to depart with and no matter how much pain he inflicts upon me, I will never give up. I vowed to never let him win. I thought I had escaped his grasp, but his torment had only just begun. Despite everything, he still held the power to manipulate my heart and make me crave to be possessed by him. As secrets come to light and the truth is exposed, can I surrender the battle and surrender what I've been fighting for all along, without hesitation? --- He tore his lips away from mine, peering down at me, brushing the pad of his thumb along his lower lip—smearing my touch as far as it would travel. “You taste like mine.” He said in a cold and condescending tone. Then he left. He walked out of the wine cellar without a second glance over his shoulder as Riccardo locked the door behind them.