The Lost Hero Leo Valdez

“I have to return the same energy I got from you, call it being proud or pride, but I call it wickedness because, The goal is to stay wicked.” Marcus whispered in Zena's ear slowly while he pecks her neck gently and his breath tease her sensation which turns her erogenous. Marcus despises Zena with everything he holds dearly but pretend to love her at all cost. Unknowingly, her throne was auctioned to two male potential Alphas whom she coincidently met. One of them is her soulmate and the other is her bedmate. But will Zena ever discover her real identity? Will she ever find out the truth of her lost throne and who is the betrayer? For how long will she lay with the monster that enslave her?

For centuries, the Moon Rocks Pack has lived under a curse: no Alpha of their bloodline may ever have a mate, and no Luna will ever rise beside them. Lyra Thompson was eight years old when her world burned. A rogue wolf attacked her pack, leaving flames, smoke, and chaos in its wake. Her parents’ last command echoed in her ears: Run. Find the Moon Rocks. Too small to fight, too young to shift, Lyra fled into the night — a lost pup alone in a world that had already taken everything from her. The Moon Rocks Pack took her in, raising her as one of their own. They gave her safety. They gave her guidance. But even among wolves, fear has a way of lingering, and Lyra carries the scars of that night — a fear of fire, a wariness of rogue wolves, and a quiet, unshakable sense of loss. Now, one week before her eighteenth birthday, the pack prepares for Oscar Knight’s ascension as Alpha. Strong, disciplined, and raised to believe he will never have a mate, Oscar has accepted the curse as his burden. Until the full moon rises. Until Lyra turns eighteen. The bond that should not exist ignites between them — fierce, undeniable, and powerful enough to shatter a centuries-old curse. But destiny comes with consequences, and the rogue who destroyed Lyra’s past may still be hunting. The Moon Rocks Pack was never meant to have a Luna. Until her.

"You're my sister. I don't care if I'm drugged—this ain't it. You ain't my cure." Carlo Quaranta's eyes were shot red, chest heaving, but that rage? Way hotter than any craving. "Even if you make me marry you, I'll never love you." Vera Este didn't doubt it. Not for a second. He meant every damn word. Last time, she was the so-called "cure"... and it dragged her straight into marriage. She stared at his face—still young. Felt like it belonged to someone from a whole other life.

An independent woman filled with dreams sees her life transformed when she enters into a contractual marriage void of love and filled with concerns about money and status. In a dramatic twist, she discovers her husband's betrayal, realizing that her marriage will never have love, and Asha decides to use a clause in the contract to regain her independence and dignity. An explosive confrontation scene unfolds, revealing the true face of the man she loves, leading the protagonist to make a radical decision: to seek a divorce. However, Allan doesn't intend to let Asha go so easily, not when she took everything from him, but he didn't expect that she had something that could bring him back to life.

The day after I returned to my home country, my old classmates ambushed me with an invitation to a reunion. In the hotel, I ran into my ex, Shawn Quinn, whom I hadn't seen in five years. The room froze when he pulled out a ring and proposed. Gasps rippled through the crowd. They all expected me to jump at the chance, given how hard I had chased him back in the day. They forgot the gut-punch of our graduation day. Shawn had sided with another woman, letting her paint me as a plagiarist, a cheater, a bully. The school authorities revoked my diploma and kicked me out of the ceremony. Humiliated, I fled abroad, leaving behind a shattered heart. Now, his best friend told me, "Shawn pulled strings to get your diploma back despite your past mistakes. He never forgot about you. He has been waiting for you all these years. You're his only love."

My boyfriend, Jacob Torrance, claimed he hated being touched. Five years together, and all I got were stiff hand-holds and the rare side-hug. Even in bed, he kept his distance. I figured he was just emotionally shut off. Then he dropped this: he wanted a kid—with his mentor's daughter. "Take it as a sperm donation," he said. "Dr. Lynn asked me before he died. Wendy's got no one else." I smiled. "You don't have to explain. I support you." When you're over someone, there's no point fighting about what's right or wrong.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire! You would think with the root word "fair" in fairies would deem the creatures sweet and gentle. Right? Fuck no! I died in Ancient Pompeii's catastrophic demise along with my lover Brixtius, and I was once again tossed through time. This time I land in Medieval Europe, and like my previous two adventures, I run into my dead lovers' look-alike descendant. Except now, he's a Duke and a formidable warrior. And me? The fairies dressed me as a boy, and I somehow have to survive this chivalric world! Why me?! *This book can be read as a stand-alone. The story is full of erotic imagery and explicit content.*

My husband's adopted sister invited me out to dinner, and while we were eating, disaster struck—a violent earthquake shook the ground beneath us. My husband, a firefighter, rushed to the scene as quickly as he could. But fate had a cruel plan for us. We were trapped beneath a massive boulder, unable to move, and the rescuers could only save one of us. He made his choice. He chose her—the adopted sister who had always been frail and sickly—over me, his wife, who was five months pregnant with his child. I begged him, pleaded with him to save me. But he turned his back on me. The boulder pressed harder, and I felt the sickening crack of my arm breaking. He didn't even flinch. "Alice has always been weak," he said coldly. "If I leave her here, she'll die." But when I died, he lost his mind.

My husband was Damian, the Don of the Manhattan Mafia. Everyone thought he worshipped me, but the second his childhood sweetheart, Sophia, came back, I became invisible. He ditched me for her over and over again. It all broke when I started miscarrying. Even as my blood stained his car seat, he didn't even flinch. He just shoved me out of the car. "Sophia has a severe phobia of blood. You’re going to terrify her!" I woke up in the hospital to a taunting text from her: “I said I was a little hungry, and Damian actually got in the kitchen to cook for me. He spoils me way too much.” The photo showed the most powerful man in the city personally making her a meal. I didn't cry. I just called my mentor. "Sir, I had thought it through, and I was accepting the invitation for that international medical research project. Get me out of here. The further, the better." Since he couldn't let Sophia go, I decided to let them be. In three days, I was leaving Damian’s world for good.

Since it's already the end of the year, the music app I use produces a report on the songs I've listened to in 2025. The keyword of my report is "resonance". Over the year, I don't spend much time listening to the songs on this app. My girlfriend, Sienna Fletcher, is the one who's been using my account this whole time. There's a row beneath the keyword that's written in a tiny font. "You had listened to this song with someone at 4:00 am on December 1st. It turns out that love can go beyond a night's sleep." My breath gets hitched in my throat. December 1st is my birthday. But that night, I had gone to bed at an early hour. Meanwhile, Sienna had left hurriedly after cutting my birthday cake with me with the excuse that she needed to pull an overnight shift at the company. For some reason, I tap onto the unfamiliar-looking profile that has been interacting frequently with my account with a trembling finger. Their keyword of the year is "favor". My heart skips a beat at the sight. Then, I tap on the details. "Over the year, you've listened to songs with this user 688 times in the middle of the night. Every time you do, it's a secretive conversation meant for your souls." The next thing I know, I receive a message from Sienna. "Babe, I need to work overtime tonight again. You don't have to wait up for me. Just go to bed early." At the same time, a new post is uploaded on the unfamiliar profile. It features a photo of two hands that are intertwined together. "I love working overtime with her the most. I want to listen to songs with her forever."