Somehow Day6

To save his childhood sweetheart, who had a congenital heart condition, my husband tricked me into signing an organ donation agreement. Then he got into a truck and ran me over right in front of the hospital. Barely clinging to life, Elliot Carter tore my heart from my chest. When my body was wheeled out of the operating room, Alan Yates came crashing to my side like a man gone mad. Seeing the gaping hole where my heart used to be, he screamed and wept: "I'm sorry… I was too late… If there's another life, I'll never let you suffer like this again…" Tears fell exactly where my heart had been, and somehow, I even felt a flicker of warmth. He spun around and ran back into the operating room. When he came out again, Elliot and Jessica Foster were lying in a pool of blood. Alan, meanwhile, had slashed his own wrist to die with me. On his deathbed, he ordered that we be buried together. Then I opened my eyes. I had been reborn. Before me stood Elliot, dressed in a wedding gown, holding a bouquet, and proposing. I flung the flowers in his face and turned to embrace Alan in the crowd. However, only a year and a half into our marriage, he changed. Alan began openly pairing up with Jessica, letting her move into our home. Worse, he claimed that our cat's mating season had disturbed Jessica's sleep, and so he allowed her to run over the cat I had raised for seven years. I could not believe it. This was not the man who had loved me so deeply in my previous life. My eyes blazing, I demanded, "What's wrong with you?" However, Alan's gaze was icy. "Nothing. I just don't love you anymore."

I spent two years drowning in guilt for an accident that wasn't my fault. Two years watching my husband transform into a monster who blamed me for the paralysis a drunk driver caused. Two years sacrificing pieces of myself for forgiveness I'd never earn. And then Adrian made one request that shattered what little dignity I had left. His birthday wish: Two weeks in Italy. His two best friends. My body. He wanted me to give them what he could no longer provide. I said yes because I didn't know how else to survive his threats, his manipulation, his systematic destruction of everything I used to be. What I didn't expect was how they'd look at me when I agreed—like I was cheap, disposable, exactly as worthless as I'd always believed. Matteo Greco touched me with hands that worshipped while his words cut deep, the Italian architect whose warmth turned ice-cold the moment I knocked on his door. Kian Ashford used me like I was nothing while his grey eyes promised I could be everything, the lawyer whose control shattered the same night mine did. They broke me completely. And broke their rules together with their hatred for eachother. Because Kian isn't just a lawyer—he's a Werewolf Alpha in a three-piece suit and a racer at night. Matteo isn't just an architect—he's a Lycan Alpha hiding behind Italian charm and motorcycle leather. And somehow this completely human woman triggered something in both of them that should be impossible. Mate bonds don't lie. But neither do the species that have been enemies for centuries. A dark paranormal romance that will leave you breathless, aching, and absolutely dripping. This is not a gentle love story...this is brutal, beautiful, and will wreck you in the best possible way.

Camilla walks into my study, and the air shifts. She's a distraction I can't afford, but fuck if I can resist her. Her fingers trace the edge of my desk, her eyes locked onto mine. "What are you doing, Camilla?" I growl, my control already fraying. She's a walking temptation, and she knows it. She smirks, her voice a sultry whisper, already undoing me. "Pushing your buttons, Zeke. Seeing how far I can go before you snap." My control falters. I spin her around, pressing her against the desk. My hands roam over her body, and I can feel her submitting. "You want this?" I ask, my voice a low growl. "You want to see the beast you're unleashing?" *** Camilla Dawson never expected to see the sinfully hot stranger she once hooked up with in a public washroom ever again. But fate—or rather, a father she never knew existed—has other plans. Now, she's bound and delivered as payment for a debt, straight into the hands of none other than Zeke Russell—the ruthless kingpin who always gets what he wants. Zeke built his empire on power and control, and he never takes no for an answer. Business or pleasure, the rules are his. It’s been years, but he’s never forgotten the woman who left him wanting more. Now, with Camilla thrust into his world as a replacement for his promised bride, everything spirals into chaos. She was never supposed to matter. Yet somehow, she’s slipping past his defenses, unearthing secrets he’s buried deep—and igniting a dangerous obsession. And when enemies close in, there’s nothing he won’t do to keep her. After all, what’s one more crime in the name of love?

They've called me a lot of things; Desperate, reckless and stupid. My name is Arthur Rowen, and three months ago, my world ended. My father was murdered—skull branded on his forehead like a sick calling card, Lionel family signature marking him as a traitor. My twin brother Asher vanished the same night without a trace, like he never existed. The police won't help because Lionel's own them. So I did what any desperate, reckless, stupid person would do: I got myself hired at The Pit of Lust, the Lionel family's underground sex club. The plan was simple: infiltrate, investigate, find Asher, get out. Then Andreas Lionel noticed me. Seven years older, dangerously beautiful, rumored to have appetites that would make a devil blush. The man who might have signed my father's death warrant. He wants me in his private suite, in his bed and under his control. Maybe I should run and while I'm at it, I should remember why I'm here but Andreas touches me like I'm something precious, not another pretty body in his collection. Fucks me like he's trying to ruin me for anyone else, while somehow making me feel whole for the first time in my life. The worst part? It's working and my legs are spreading with each passing night shamelessly. I'm falling for the man who destroyed my family. My brother is still missing and my father is still dead. And I'm still lying to the one person who's made me feel alive. They say revenge is a dish best served cold. No one warned me it would taste like whiskey and sin on Andreas Lionel's tongue Or that I'd crave the flavor like an additive.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself supposedly transmigrated to some ancient era. Every morning, before light touched the sky, someone would yank me out of bed to haul trash, chop wood, and do whatever filthiest job needed doing. Somehow, I'd become the lowest-ranked servant in the entire estate. The estate lord's son would climb onto my back and ride me around the courtyard like some pet he was proud to show off. Anyone in the household could hit me, kick me, or shove me aside, and not a single soul would speak up. Five years passed like that, so awful that I almost lost my mind, as if I were living in hell. Then one day, a group of servants cornered me. They didn't bother hiding their intention. The moment I saw their faces, I knew I was in trouble. Fists flew, boots landed, and everything blurred. Just before I passed out, I heard them whispering, "We're going to kill him if we keep this up." "Come on. This place only looks like some old noble estate. It's not an actual one. If he dies here, we're the ones who'll get dragged to court!" "Relax. Ms. Shaw will handle it. The idiot pissed off her childhood sweetheart. Getting tricked into this place is exactly what he deserves." Fear swallowed everything, and the world went dark. When I woke again, the lady of the house had conveniently "returned from visiting her family." The lord threw a grand celebration with tables full of food, wine flowing, and musicians playing like nothing had happened. I carried dishes into the banquet hall and lifted my head. Her face was the same as my wife's, Melissa Shaw. I set the final dish down, stepped closer, and in a voice only she could hear, asked, "Ma'am… are you enjoying your little game?"

🔥🔥Warning – 18+ Only This story is full of raw passion, steamy romance, and tantalizing tension. By turning these pages, you confirm you are 18 or older and ready to be seduced by a world of pleasure, desire, and temptation. Read responsibly… welcome to an erotic world. He touched her in ways she didn’t understand but craved. Every movement, every kiss, every whisper made her shiver. His hands slid down her gown and tore off her panties. Spreading her legs as his face went straight to her pussy like he was starving. And goodness, that was just the beginning His tongue hit her like a rocket She screamed like a slut… She never knew she could scream like that. She had never been with anyone like him. She didn’t know what she was doing… but somehow, that didn’t matter. He took control, and she allowed him to. His tongue didn't just lick, it devoured her pussy, slowly and deep. Like he was memorizing every part of her body. “Fuck..” She cried her nails dug deep into the leather seat of the car, her legs shaking as he spread them wider shoving his two fingers into her without hesitation. After a brutal breakup that left her questioning her worth, Isabella Hart swore she’d never let another man make her feel small again. Her ex’s final words still echoed in her head... that she couldn’t satisfy him, that she didn’t even know what real pleasure was. So when a night out to forget turns into something wild, reckless, and unforgettable, Izzy doesn’t think... she just feels. One stranger. One night. One taste of what it means to lose control. He was dominant, commanding, intoxicating… and she never even got his name.

My husband—one of the top elites of Raventon Street, cold and ruthless to his core—keeps a stray orphan girl he rescued from the slums hidden in an apartment. Rowena Fletcher is clean and fragile, like a newborn creature untouched by the world. And somehow, that innocence softens something in Micah Benson—a man who's spent years clawing his way through the brutal wilderness of capital. He thinks this secret game of his goes unnoticed, but I find out anyway. At the Benson family's charity gala, I smash his favorite antique vase in front of everyone. He doesn't even flinch as he simply signals the bodyguards to clean up the mess and then hands me a divorce agreement. "Sign it, Sabrina. The penthouse in Ashbourne City is yours." I burn the divorce agreement—and that's when he finally shows his true colors. He freezes all my accounts and launches a hostile takeover of my gallery. On the night the storm hits, I get a call from the hospital. My sister, Roberta Slater, has been in a car crash—she needs emergency surgery. In the security footage, he stood there, watching coldly. "Sign the papers, or start planning a funeral." I dropped to my knees and slammed my forehead against the floor, blood trailing down my face as I begged, "Micah, please… don't…" A long, flat beep echoed from the other end of the line, slicing through the sound of rain. Then a voice on the line says, "We did everything we could." However, I have gone back in time—to the day I first found out about Rowena. This time, I no longer cry. Instead, I plan my divorce on my own terms. I call Valebrook Bank that same night and begin preparing for a quiet disappearance. But the moment I truly vanish from his world, Micah loses his mind.

I slammed the bathroom door, desperate for thirty seconds of peace without feeling their overwhelming presence. They were waiting when I came out. Hunter leaned against the wall looking annoyingly perfect, Zane was already smirking, and Seth had the decency to look slightly guilty. "I can't even pee without one of you stalking me," I snapped. "Don't blame me," Hunter said, hands up. "That's all Seth." "Hey!" Seth protested. "Dude, you literally tracked her scent to the library yesterday like some creepy bloodhound." Zane stepped closer, his voice dropping low. "In his defense, you smell amazing. Like rain and something wild. It's... distracting." Heat flashed through me at his words. This was my new reality—three devastatingly hot guys who wouldn't leave me alone. The scary part? I was starting to like it. **** Two years ago, when Dad got stripped of his Alpha title for breaking pack law, we were exiled to a crappy apartment on the wrong side of town. I thought my life sucked before, but this was a whole new level of hell. At academy, I'm the girl everyone avoids. Bad luck follows me everywhere, or so they think. Perfect target for bullies, especially my stepsister Cessy. She's everything I'm not—head cheerleader, gorgeous, popular. While she's the golden child at home and school, I'm her personal 'unpaid' assistant. Then everything changed on my eighteenth birthday. I found my mates. Not just one, but three. The Blackwood Trio: Hunter, Seth, and Zane. Hockey gods, gorgeous Alphas, the most wanted guys at school. Every girl dreams about them, every guy wants to be them. And somehow, impossibly, they're mine. Of course, nothing's ever simple in my life. Three mates means three times the drama, three times the possessiveness, and way more heat than I know how to handle.

The war between vampires and werewolves has raged for centuries. But Dorian, the most revered vampire prince, shattered every rule and bound himself to me—a werewolf. The Elders punished him for it. For this, he was chained in sacred silver for days on end. Forced to drink the blood of beasts. He nearly died in a baptism of holy water. The pain was absolute. But when he saw me again, his eyes were bloodshot as he kissed my tears away. "The moment we bonded, I made a vow," he whispered. "You are my eternal mate. I will never forsake you." Finally, his family—the Valkyries—agreed. But they had one condition. He could leave the vampire world with me. But first, he had to sleep with Liliana, the pureblood noblewoman. He had to give his family a new, powerful heir. Dorian held me, his voice tight with desperation. "Please, Freya. Just wait a little longer. A few more years, and we can go to the human world. We can have our eternity." I waited. Night after night, he went to her bed. A hundred nights of betrayal passed before she finally conceived. But their daughter, Aria, was born without the proper bloodline mark. She couldn't be the heir. They had to have another. I endured another two hundred nights of their betrayal. Liliana was pregnant again. But on Aria's first birthday, sunlight somehow flooded her room. She was dying. Everyone thought I did it. I was locked in a cellar lined with silver. Dorian's face was a mask of pain and exhaustion as he confronted me. "I told you we could leave after the next child was born. You're the only one here immune to the sun. Why would you hurt my daughter?!" Tears streamed down my swollen face as I tried to deny it, but the silver poison burning in my bones had already stolen my voice. By the time the cellar door opened again, the wolf inside me was fading. I forced myself to my feet and walked toward the Valkyrie Elders. This eternal bond he promised? I was done.

Madam Pratt, my mother-in-law, was in critical condition after a car accident, desperately needing surgery. However, as the lead surgeon, I—Lilianne Davis—stood by, casually scrolling through short videos on my phone. My best friend, Tiffany Owens, who was also a doctor, was far more anxious than I was. She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the operating room. “Lily, why are you still stalling? Hurry up and save her!” I took a step back, clutching my stomach in pain as her face twisted in shock. “I have cramps so bad I can’t even stand. You do it.” In my last life, the moment I heard about Madam Pratt’s accident, I had swallowed a painkiller and rushed into surgery, working for hours to stabilize her. I had barely stepped away from the operating table when alarms blared. “Lilianne, what have you done? The patient is experiencing acute hemolysis!” “Call the family now!” Gareth Pratt stormed in, his face twisted with rage. He slapped me hard in the face. “Lil, you’re a professional surgeon, yet you gave my mother the wrong blood transfusion?!” I froze, reaching for Madam Pratt’s medical report to explain, only to find that the A-type blood I had seen before had somehow changed to B-type. The medical board arrived, and a blood test revealed traces of hallucinogens in my system. “Unbelievable! Taking illegal substances before surgery? That’s a cardinal sin for a doctor!” In the chaos, Emma Pratt, Gareth’s teenage sister, grabbed a scalpel and stabbed me multiple times. Blood gushed from my arteries, and I collapsed in a pool of crimson. As my vision faded, I couldn’t understand what had happened. I had never taken illegal drugs. Besides, I was absolutely certain of Madam Pratt’s blood type. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the moment right before stepping into the operating room.