Slumped

"I reject you as my mate…” Those words were bone shattering as the excruciating pain ran through my body. I bent over, trying to hold myself together, but I fell on the floor. I grimaced on the palace floor, yet Damon let out a hysterical laugh as he slumped back on his throne. I sensed he had also felt the same uncomfortable sensation after his rejection, but he found solace in watching me scream in agony. Aurora Ashwood is thrust into a life of misery raised as a slave to the Moonfall Pack. Her world shatters when she is rejected by her first mate Alpha Damon Blackthorn, and sold to Darius Lockwood the Alpha of the Silverfang Pack nothing more than to serve as a breeder. In a world where hate and love collide together, her greatest weapon will be her warm-blooded beating heart? Will she exact revenge on her enemies and seek justice, or will she find the strength to choose her true love and fulfill her destiny as the chosen one?

Two souls, one body. One was a feared assassin, and the other was a beautiful soul brought up and given everything she could ever want. Both were betrayed and killed by those around them on the same day and time. Fate, it seems, could only give one of them a second chance to make things right, a chance at vengeance for both lives.********* "What is this?" Aurelia asked her. "It's a note for a surprise that was prepared for you by your father. He said to hand it to you before the party. You should open it," Nella said. Aurelia smiled at her and tore it open. It was obviously typed in bold letters. SEE YOU AT THE ATTIC, DEAREST. Dearest? That's what her father always referred to her as. "I guess I should start going there," there," Aurelia said and left. The attic had been closed since the incident, and Aurelia had always wanted to go in there and see. It was only reasonable now that her father should let her see before getting married. She entered. "Dad?" She called out to him, but there was no answer. She went in further, and then she saw what was written on the wall. 'DIE BITCH! ' Just then, she heard from behind her as the door closed. Soon, something like a pipe was let in as smoke was being let inside the room. Aurelia ran to the door and started banging, but just then, the violinists started to play below along with other instrumentalists. She kept banging until she started to feel faint and slumped as she gasped for air. There were only a few who knew about her asthmatic condition. her father, her late mother, and Nella. Why would her father want her dead?****************** Read to know what happens next.

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.