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I had just climbed into the armored SUV leaving the Moretti estate when the gatekeeper hurried after me with a black encrypted phone in his hand. "Mrs. Westmore, Don Moretti asked me to give you this." I took it. One unread message glowed on the screen. [Selena only had a scare. I'll come home tomorrow. Don't overthink it.] I stared at it for two seconds, popped out the SIM card, snapped it in half, and tossed it into the rain outside the window. The next day, I had just reached the abandoned shipyard in North Harbor when encrypted messages started hitting my backup phone one after another. [Vivian, where are you?] [Why aren't you home? Where the hell did you go this late?] [Answer me. Don't make me send men all over the city looking for you.] The last one was exactly his style: soft on the surface, arrogant underneath. [Your family survives under my protection. Don't test my patience.] I didn't answer. After countless messages sank without a reply, my husband finally drove to the old Westmore grounds at North Harbor. He knew that if anything was left of my family, I would be there. But when Damon pushed through the broken iron gate, he found no guards, no household staff, and no Westmore men waiting for orders. The old house stood hollow in the rain. Its windows were blown out, the front steps were black with soot, and the air still carried the bitter smell of smoke and gunpowder. Damon grabbed a passing harbor guard by the sleeve. "Where are the Westmores?" The guard looked at him as if he should already know. "Gone. The family was hit two nights ago. Whoever came for them knew exactly when Moretti protection would be pulled from the harbor." "Miss Westmore came back before dawn," the guard added. "She took the black-gold signet, a few boxes of ledgers, and whatever papers survived the fire." "After that, she left. And no one has seen her since."

MATURED CONTENT!!! “ I could smell how much you want us.” I moaned, my body arching against his touch. I felt hands on my body, fingers tracing the curves of my breasts, my hips, my thighs. I shivered in pleasure, my body on fire. Ryker leaned in, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered, "You have no idea how badly we've been longing for this. Caspian chuckled darkly, his large hand cupping one of my breasts. "Mmm, and what a sight you are. So wet for us already." Thane's voice was a rumble in his chest as he ran his fingers along my inner thigh. “I could taste your desire, even in your sleep. You've been craving our touch." At the prestigious Crescent Academy, power is everything, and Omegas like Aria are nothing. Forced into the lowest class due to a suppressed wolf form, Aria endures humiliation, cruelty, and punishment just to earn her freedom from her manipulative stepmother’s grasp. But Aria isn’t weak. She’s hiding something far more dangerous than anyone can imagine. An ancient, overpowered lineage that could tip the balance of the entire werewolf world. When she crosses paths with the untouchable Apex brothers, sparks fly, tempers flare, and forbidden bonds begin to form. Cold and brooding Kaid. Flirtatious and broken Ryker. Gentle and haunted Thane. Reckless and loyal Caspian. They’re drawn to the girl who refuses to kneel, even as their enemies conspire to tear them apart. As a deadly rogue faction emerges and secrets buried in blood and betrayal come to light, Aria must embrace the monster she was told to fear… or lose everything. Fate gave her four mates. Power made her a target. But it’s her rage that will make her a legend.

“What am I doing? What were you doing letting another man feel you up?” “I don’t belong to you. I can let whoever I want to feel me up. Take a hint Declan.” I ran a hand over her arms and watched as goosebumps rose on her skin. I could smell her arousal, and knew every alpha could too. I was overwhelmed with the urge to carry her away and lock her up for my eyes only. I settled for pulling her into me and burying my face into her hair. Her scent drove me crazy. She smelled so sweet, so safe, like home. “Does his touch make you feel like this? Does his scent make your pussy purr, Maeve?” She gasped, and I watched, satisfied, as a blush crawled onto her face. Without a word, she had given me my answer. She could deny the way we reacted to each other with her words, but the body didn’t lie. She wanted me. ********* One night. One mistake. One bond that will never break. It was supposed to be nothing more than a freshman party with loud music, bad drinks, and no consequences. But when I locked eyes with him, I knew I was walking straight into trouble. I did it anyway. He’s been searching for me, watching me, and obsessing over me. The possessive alpha he keeps buried slips closer to the surface every time I push back and remind him I don’t belong to anyone. But bonds don’t care about pride. And the darker his desire gets, the harder it becomes to tell whether I’m running from him… or provoking him on purpose. Because the truth is, I never forgot that night either. And some knots were never meant to be broken.

In the third year of my eating disorder, my husband, Nikolai Hollowell, is the only person who still insists on making me eat. Even when I vomit until I'm a trembling mess, he will make another dish for me again half an hour later. He coaxes gently yet stubbornly, "Have one more bite of the apple slice, Emi." But the moment I smell the food, I throw up again until I can barely breathe. That night, I make another post on X to ask for help. "How is someone with an eating disorder supposed to keep living?" The top comment says, "Get a boyfriend who's a chef! My darling cooks different dishes for me every single day, all 365 days without repeating once. Even the apple slices he cuts are shaped like cute little bunnies, so I absolutely love eating now." Someone replies enviously, "Wow! Where do you find a man like that?" She answers, "Find one? Good men like that no longer circulate on the market. He is actually married. His wife has had anorexia for three years. She has become only skin and bones. "He says just looking at her kills his appetite, and he does not even want to touch her. Well, I'm nothing like her. I always finish every dish he makes." My breathing catches in my throat. This morning, Nikolai personally made bunny-shaped apple slices for me. My fingertips turn cold as I tap into the woman's profile. Her caption reads, "Wow! If your wife won't eat bunny-shaped apple slices, then I will!" Attached is a photo of a man's long, elegant fingers holding an apple slice up to the woman's mouth. And the one reflected in her starry eyes after zooming in—is a face identical to Nikolai's.

"Please," I whisper as his teeth graze my neck, my body betraying every promise I made to keep him at a distance. "We can't—" "Can't?" His laugh is dark, dangerous. "Your wolf is screaming for me, Fin. I can smell how much you want this." His hands pin my wrists above my head, his body pressing mine against the wall. "Tell me to stop. Tell me you don't dream about my hands on your skin, my mark on your throat." His lips brush my ear, voice rough with need. "Tell me, and I'll walk away. But we both know you're tired of denying what's between us." Finley Bennett never expected to be Alpha of Forest Trails pack. But when her brother refuses the role, she's determined to prove a female can lead - even if it means burying her broken heart. Because the one wolf who was supposed to be her perfect match chose another, leaving her with nothing but duty to cling to. When Mountain Ridge's powerful Alpha arrives to discuss border threats, his sudden marking of her as his mate offers a second chance at happiness. But fate isn't finished testing her yet. Another cruel rejection leaves her wondering if she's destined to lead alone. As mysterious attacks threaten pack lands and ancient magic stirs, Finley must navigate pack politics, unseen enemies, and the return of her first mate. But something darker lurks beneath the surface - a hidden enemy whose manipulation could cost her everything she's fought to protect. With her territory under siege and her heart torn between two wolves who rejected her, Finley must decide: can she trust fate's choice a third time? Or will opening her heart again destroy everything she's built?

My fated mate rejected me, but Roman Blackwood the bad boy alpha rejected his fated mate for me. "You're mine Mirabelle." A jolting pleasure skidded down my spine as his deep rough voice sounded beside my ear along with his searing breath that set my skin ablaze.  My breath was heavy, my senses incredibly heightened, I was cornered against the wall staring into the deepest grey eyes. I could smell him, feel him, my heart was racing and my wolf was responding. Jitters of heat trailed my skin, I could feel them deep in my veins knotting down in my stomach. The red moon had passed, and the heat was rising among the clan, it was the season to breed, and my body was extremely sensitive especially in the presence of this werewolf. "You can't run from it, you can't deny it, you're mine." His rough fingers grazed my face and I shuddered shutting my eyes to hide the turmoil of emotions within. "I'm not your mate Rome." My wolf made a protest within. I wasn't his mate, but my heart body and soul wanted him! His arms lowered down, I could feel them wound around my waist aggressively pulling me towards him. 'Please don't do this...' I wanted to plead, 'I can't hold back!' "Look at me fawn" My heartbeat skipped, his intoxicating scent drew me in with an undeniably captivating allure, I couldn't look away, nor could I deny the strong emotions binding me to him. I was his...how could I keep denying that? "I told you last time, deny me again and I'll let the whole world know that you're mine." But even though my body ached for him... I'd have to turn away, for Roman Blackwood was the only man I couldn't have.

Ever since her 18th birthday, Mona Lisa hasn’t been the same. What began as innocent curiosity with her college friends—experimenting with vibrators and watching forbidden taboo videos—had awakened something feral inside her. Scenes of powerful alphas claiming their own bloodline only fueled the fire. Now she craved c*ck with a hunger no toy could satisfy. Her wolf was awake, and it was shameless. Every time her strict, commanding Alpha stepfather spoke, her body betrayed her completely. The deep rumble of his voice sent slick heat flooding between her thighs. Her nipples hardened instantly. Her breath hitched, and instead of answering like a proper daughter of the pack, soft, needy whimpers escaped her lips. Her wolf whined inside her chest, tail tucked, begging to submit. She was consumed by one dark fantasy: becoming his secret, messy little breeding doll. She imagined him pinning her down and filling her womb with thick, potent Alpha seed while he growled “Mine” against her neck, marking her permanently. He was her stepfather. The Alpha of their pack. Her mother’s mate. Yet the fated bond thrummed between them, growing stronger with every full moon. Her scent had changed; the entire pack could smell her desperate, fertile need whenever he was near. Mona Lisa knew she faced an impossible choice: surrender to the overwhelming pleasure and let her Alpha stepfather ruin her—body, soul, and wolf—or fight the bond and slowly go mad. Either path would shatter the pack and burn her family. But when his golden eyes locked on hers, her pussy clenched and dripped with raw need. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stop herself from dropping to her knees, baring her neck, and begging her stepdaddy to knot and breed her like the filthy little pup she truly was.

We agreed we were going to spend Christmas together as a family of three. I briefly stepped out to grab my daughter’s Christmas gift, but quickly realized that I had forgotten my keys. However, when I came back, I was locked outside the villa. I rang the doorbell countless times, but no one came to let me in. Through the glass window, I saw my daughter happily smiling in the arms of my wife’s childhood friend who had returned from overseas. “Uncle Jones, you smell so nice. Not like my dad. He’s always sweaty and smells so gross. I don’t even want to spend Christmas with him!” My wife, Lily Quinn, looked at them indulgently and agreed. “Your dad hasn’t seen much of the world. He really doesn’t know how to celebrate holidays properly.” I froze in place as my fingers turned cold. Yara turned and saw me outside the window. Her face was filled with disgust. “What are you staring at? Why are you standing outside like some monster? You almost scared me to death! You’re not like Uncle Jones at all. He’s so elegant and well-mannered!” However, ten years ago, I was a top sales director at a well-known multinational company. Back then, I had the chance to be transferred to New York. Yet Lily unexpectedly got pregnant and suffered severe reactions. She was at constant risk of miscarriage. I voluntarily gave up that opportunity to take care of her and our daughter. Now, that sacrifice had somehow become undeniable proof of my uselessness. I took a deep breath and threw the Christmas gift I had bought for my daughter into the trash. Then I messaged someone saved in my contacts as “Apprentice”: [Is that overseas position you mentioned a few days ago still available?] The reply came almost instantly: [Of course! Mr. Lane, as long as you’re willing to come back, you’ll always have a place waiting for you!]

After six years of working as a corpse porter, I finally saved enough money to treat my sister, Maeve Xander, for her liver cancer. Maeve, however, casually refused the surgery. “I’m not actually sick. Mom and Dad aren’t dead either. I staged that car accident. You’re the only one who ended up seriously hurt and disabled.” Then my wife, Laurel Jinks, also confessed, “I’m not bankrupt. Every time I said I had to work late, it was because I didn’t want to cram into that filthy basement with you. I was going back to my mansion. I originally planned to punish you for three more years, but you reek of dead bodies. Maeve and I just can’t take the smell anymore.” A wave of pure absurdity washed over me as my body froze with the hand holding my credit card still in the air. Maeve snatched the card from my hand and tossed it into the trash. “That card is empty. I gave all the money you made carrying corpses to homeless people. Think of it as doing good deeds for the child you lost. After all, taking money from the dead is cursed. It’s bad luck all the way down. We shouldn’t touch that filthy money.” A chill ran down my spine. I did not understand why they treated me this way. Then, I saw my parents. They were standing far away from me, as if I were a plague. I completely broke down. “You bullied Cameron because you are the only son of the Xander family, so we wanted to teach you a lesson. If you promise to never bully Cameron again, we’ll still consider you our son. If you do not promise, we’ll cut you off, and you’ll be dead to us.” Just as my heart sank and I fell into despair, a sympathetic voice from the system sounded in my mind. [Jude, do you wish to abandon this mission and leave this world?]

I'm ten years older than Vincenzo Corleone. He had just turned 23 years old when he took over the Corleone family as the patriarch. A hint of teenage childishness could still be seen etched onto his youthful features. I was the one who held his hand and helped him calm the turbulence of his family affairs. I blocked three assassination attempts that were made on him. I used five years of my life to help him grow from a useless scion into the fearsome don who wielded the utmost authority in Nowork's underworld. Once, Vincenzo had embraced me in the church. He rested his forehead against my palm as he swore, "Age, identity, or the world's viewpoint of us will never stop us from being together, Freya. I will protect you with my life." But after that, he told his older brother, Marco Corleone, "Freya is too old. She's already 38 years old; I can practically smell the rot of age rolling off her. Even the crinkles in her smile disgust me to no end." Some time later, Vincenzo found himself a mistress who bore some resemblance to me. She was young and vibrant—like a white rose who had never experienced the ugly side of society. While Vincenzo gave me the title of the Donna of the Corleone family, he reserved his gentle, doting, and even passionate side for the mistress named Lina Marino. Vincenzo thinks he can pull everything off flawlessly. What he forgets is that the reason why I can establish my reputation in the underworld isn't because of his protection. I've been relying on my ruthlessness and my sharp sixth sense this whole time. When I slam the signed divorce agreement onto the spot before Vincenzo, I say with a smile, "You've fought by my side for so many years, so you should know very well that I can afford to go for high-stakes risks and withdraw my chips whenever needed. "But once I lose, someone here has to pay the price!"