She Was Mine Novels & Stories

"Dad, I think something is wrong.""What do you mean?""I'm smelling four.""Four?""Yes, there are four different scents. I don't know how to explain it but they all have the same earthly scent, but something else to it. What does that mean?""You have four mates.""Four mates? That can't be real, I have never heard of that before." Avery was in a state of panic now, which caused her to involuntarily transform back to her human form.

They say that the deepest cuts come from the ones you hold closest to your heart. But I never expected my husband to be the one holding the knife while another woman twisted it in deeper.... My name is Ariana Carter. I am deeply in love with my husband Misha, and we have the perfect marriage. Scratch that, HAD the perfect marriage, or so I thought until he changed. His lies and betrayal broke me. Until I woke up. Now it's time for me to retake everything I lost--my life, my career, my family, and my dignity. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start at the beginning, shall we?

My wife's first love fell seriously ill. To save him, she gave away the kidney donor that was meant for me. Afraid I would cause a scene at the hospital, she locked me inside our home. Day after day, she stayed by his bedside, cooking for him, caring for him, never leaving his side. All she left for me was a box of stale biscuits… and expired milk. A month later, she finally opened the door. "Have you thought it through?" I looked at her, pale and desperate. "If I don't get that transplant, I'll die." "Why are you talking about dying?" she snapped. "You've endured this for so long already. A little more pain won't kill you. Are you trying to scare me?" "But Vincent is different. He's never been able to handle pain. Can't you be more understanding?" "Understand…" I nodded stiffly. Then, I walked out, without looking back. Only for her to be stabbed multiple times… yet still refuse to let go of my hand!

My wolf had been wounded by silver. It took me two years to find a rare herbal cure. But before I could use it, my mate, Gary, gave it away—without hesitation—to my adopted sister, the Black clan’s darling, Jane. The healer told me I had only one week left to live. So, I made a decision: I would freeze my body. Preserve it. I donated myself to Jane’s Werewolf Research Facility—the one she took such pride in. The day I signed the donation agreement, my pup threw himself into my arms and said, “Mommy and Aunt Jane are finally getting along again!” My parents praised me, saying I had finally learned what sisterhood meant. Gary looked relieved. “You’ve finally let go of your resentment,” he said. “I’m proud of you.” I smiled faintly. Yes. I’ve finally learned to obey. I would return the title of Black clan heiress to Jane, and did my best to grant everyone their wishes. But it was only when they realized I could no longer fight back— when my body had been sealed away in cryostasis, cold and silent— that the regret began. Suddenly, they wanted to bleed for me. They wanted to compensate. They wanted to follow me into the grave. But where were they when I needed them, when I was still alive?

On the day of the SAT exam, my girlfriend’s childhood friend, Benedict Casper, forgot his admission ticket at home. She insisted on retrieving it for him, but I begged her not to go. In the end, Benedict missed his final chance for taking the exam and, overwhelmed by despair, he jumped to his death. Years later, my girlfriend, Ella Simpson, and I graduated from Whitmore Institute of Technology, landed high-paying jobs, and built a picture-perfect marriage. But on the anniversary of Benedict’s death, she stabbed me repeatedly, her voice trembling with rage, “You killed him. If I’d gotten his admission ticket, he would’ve never jumped.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the exams. Ella’s frantic voice rang in my ears, “I have to go back, Dominic. I need to get Benedict’s ticket!” This time, I smiled and said, “Go ahead. Be careful on the way.”

Marcus Webb didn't believe in ghosts. It was not until he woke up in Prometheus House with no memory of how he got there and met the devastatingly beautiful man who claims to be his roommate. Silas Ashford is perfect. Too perfect. He doesn't eat, doesn't sleep, and casts no reflection in mirrors. When Marcus discovers a photograph from 1924 showing Silas standing beside a man who looks exactly like him, the truth becomes impossible to deny. Silas is a ghost, bound to the facility for a hundred years, waiting for someone he can't remember. Marcus is a tech billionaire who died six months ago in a car accident, his body in a coma, his soul trapped in the between. They were lovers in a past life. Michael and Silas, 1924. They died in a fire trying to escape an abusive sanatorium. Michael survived long enough to reincarnate. Silas has been waiting ever since. Now, the facility's sinister director, a reaper who feeds on trapped souls will do anything to keep them apart. The building is collapsing, and time is running out. Marcus must choose: wake up and live, forgetting Silas forever, or stay and risk losing everything. To free Silas, Marcus will have to destroy the anchors binding him to this world, confront the creature born from their shared tragedy, and burn Prometheus House to the ground a second time. Some love stories survive death. He's not real, But he's mine, and I'll set the world on fire to keep him.

"Ms. Stout, please read the requirements carefully. Once you submit your personal profile and sign up, all of your information will be sealed. You must then enter the research institute within 15 working days. Until the research results are made public, you will not be allowed to leave." The response from the National Academy of Sciences Research Institute came quickly, accompanied by a form. Shermaine Stout stared at the screen, but the mouse in her hand suddenly felt as heavy as lead. The door to her room suddenly swung open, and Shermaine blinked, quickly closing the laptop without a trace of emotion.

Everest Quentin, my commander husband, has fallen in love with his dead comrade's widow, Selene Brooks. When I find out about it, I don't bother kicking up a ruckus. Instead, I just turn in my resignation letter at my workplace and trick Everest into signing a divorce agreement. After Everest drops his signature, he falls silent for a very long time. Finally, he speaks up in an extraordinarily warm tone. "If you truly intend to quit your job, can you write a recommendation letter for Selene to work at your school instead? "You know that Selene's husband has sacrificed his life in the war. Life will be very difficult for her if she doesn't secure a job to make ends meet." I nod without turning Everest's request down. Previously, I've donated my own heart to him, only to find out that he has it transplanted into Selene's chest instead. I only have three days to live, so I have nothing else in this life. That's why I've tricked Everest into signing the divorce agreement on the first day. On the second day, my resignation letter officially goes into effect. My position is now Selene's. On the third day, I die right in front of my parents' graves. Unfortunately, that also means I never get to attend the banquet Everest has thrown for Selene. The banquet is so boisterous that one would think it's a wedding instead. Everest scans his surroundings, only to realize that I'm absent. He frowns immediately before admonishing me for throwing a tantrum on Selene's big day. The next thing he knows, a soldier rushes over and announces my death right in front of the guests. For once, Everest, who has always prided himself on being cool-headed all the time, actually drops the wine glass he's holding in his hand.

"Hubby, kiss me. I miss you so much. When are you coming home?" Out of nowhere, I received a text. The sender was the cold, untouchable CEO who was currently scolding us in a meeting, Veronica Starling. What shocked me even more was the timestamp on the message. It was sent five years in the future.

My wife cheated on me—with my cousin. The three of us were headed to sign divorce papers when bam—car crash. Next thing I knew, I was back on the day we got our marriage license. This time, no fights, no drama. We both knew it was over. She ditched me for Jason fast and skipped the country with him. I stayed behind, buried in law books and case files. Five years later, she was famous—thanks to Jason pulling strings. Concerts, cash, fans screaming her name. Me? Still grinding at a law firm, backing folks who needed real legal help. Then came the family reunion. She showed up on Jason's arm, smug and shining, throwing shade like it was sport. But when I mentioned I was settling down with someone else? Her face snapped. "I made one dumb mistake! How DARE you move on?!"