Sharp Short Blows To The Surface Of The Chest Mga Nobela at Kwento

A high-powered CEO of a biotech firm is secretly the leader of an urban pack, using his resources to find a "cure" for the painful transformations. He meets his match in a rival CEO—a sharp, uncompromising woman who is actually a descendant of a legendary line of hunters. They are forced into a joint venture that requires them to spend weeks together in a high-security penthouse. As the full moon approaches, the corporate mask slips, and they have to decide if they are natural enemies or soulmates.

Lena Clermont fell hard for her dad's friend, Andrew Rohan—twelve years older. The first time she saw him, he was all sharp suits and broad shoulders, effortlessly standing out. He smiled, patted her head, and handed her a princess dress. Fast forward to twenty. He got drugged at a banquet. She wore that same dress, offering herself as the cure.

The injured Shadow was thrown into the novel made by her best friend's fiance, unwillingly. When she opened her eyes, a high graphic game-like message flickered in front of her eyes. [{Welcome mortal} - Register name: Shadow - Gender: handsome lady - Code name: SS50 - Title: The Emperor of the Underworld. - Height: 150cm (short)] After she received the bizarre message from supposed trusted companions, the sense of betrayal messing up her whole system, driving her tired mind to the beyond insanity. And she knew she was done for.

"Please… stop pushing. I can't move." The concert crowd was packed and restless, bodies pressed tightly together. I found myself too close to the girl in front of me. She wore a short skirt that brushed against me every time the crowd surged. What caught my attention was how close we were: the faint warmth of her body through the thin fabric made my pulse quicken. For a brief moment, I thought I felt her react too, as if she sensed the same strange tension hanging between us.

I had been wearing Vera out with my constant demands in bed. She finally broke down and ran back to her parents’ house. With our wedding approaching, she warned me, “If you keep being this rough, the wedding’s off.” I had no choice but to call my future mother-in-law, Victoria, and ask her to talk to Vera for me. That evening, Victoria showed up at my place in a sexy dress. Her chest was so full that it looked like it was about to burst out of her dress. “Since Vera can’t satisfy you, I’ll take care of you instead.”

"They called her a nobody. They tried to break her spirit. But destiny had other plans." Elara Moonstone was raised as an orphan child in a cruel family, until her 18th birthday, when a sudden mark appeared on her chest and everything changed the next day after she went to school. Elara's life shatters when she learns of her royal Lycan lineage. Thrust into a world of magic, politics, and danger, she must embrace her true self to unite warring factions and reclaim her throne. With powerful allies by her side and love complicating her path, Elara's journey is one of self-discovery, resilience, and destiny.​

She regained consciousness in the hospital. Feeling exhausted and weary. She remembered nothing—not even her own name. “Who are you?” A man named Silvanus Clemonte claimed her as his wife. Gave her names, She, Aeliana Monroe never thought she had a husband waiting for her along. Non of the people—even in the mansion longed for her. It was only Silvanus who substantially takes good care of her welfare. However, Aeliana could not feel any heartbeats shattered on her chest towards Silvanus Clemonte. She started to wonder about her identity. Was she really married to the big time Billionaire?

"I, King Zachariah Fenrir, pack Alpha to the Alpha pack, cast you, Aurora Fenrir out. From this moment forth, you are no longer worthy." A strangled cry rang out across the silence, it took me a moment to realize it was coming from me, my knees buckled and I hit the soft grass in the pasture. It felt as if someone was sticking a white hot branding iron into my chest, I was struggling to breathe. My fathers voice cut through the silence once more. "Run my child, because when we find you, there will be no saving you." And I did run, I ran as fast as I could.

On the anniversary of my mother’s death, my girlfriend told me she had to work overtime. However, her first love later posted something on social media: [Thanks to Camelia for coming to celebrate my birthday with me!] My chest tightened and my hands shook as I called her to demand an explanation. She replied calmly, “It’s Grayson’s 25th birthday today. It’s important. I didn’t want to miss it.” That was it. I let out a bitter laugh and looked down at the cancer diagnosis report in my hand. It was alright. I would be dead soon anyway.

Hands. So many hands. They're everywhere, sliding up my thighs, gripping my hips, tangling in my hair. I can't see their faces, but I don't need to. I feel them. Three of them, surrounding me, claiming me. One behind me, his chest pressed against my back, his breath hot against my neck. Another in front, his mouth trailing fire down my throat. The third watching, waiting, his presence a dark promise.* "You're ours," one of them growls, and the sound vibrates through my entire body.