The Silent Concubine

My entire existence has led to this moment, the day I finally put an end to this misery, the day I pay tribute to the sacrifices of my loved ones, the day I grant freedom to the human race. All it requires is a simple pull of the trigger. I desired this, worked tirelessly for it, but inexplicably, I find myself unable to complete the task. "Do it," Bas urged in a soft whisper, a gentle smile playing on his lips. How could he find solace in a moment fraught with tension? His eyes locked onto mine, a silent challenge. Unable to contain the tears streaming down my face, I felt a flood of emotions. Sensing my hesitation, Bas delicately laid his hand on mine, guiding the gun closer to his chest. "I love you," he uttered to me. No, I couldn't endure this any longer. I shook my head, the pain becoming unbearable. "We do this in 1...2...3..." **** In a world where werewolves coexist with humans, Rebecca faces a daunting prophecy: she must become the mate of the infamous Alpha's son, Bas. Every century, the moon selects a human girl to fulfill this prophecy, destined to bear a child for her mate and then be sacrificed. But Rebecca refuses to accept her fate. Can she defy the prophecy and protect her loved ones, or will her rebellion lead to tragedy? And when she starts developing feelings for someone forbidden, what will the consequences be?

When I'm accompanying my daughter, Alina Stone, to the hospital for a chemotherapy session, an employee from the social security center calls me. "Ms. Lewis, an error has occurred with the bank card that's set to receive your parents' pension. Please make sure to change to a new card." I'm left feeling stunned. My parents have been dead for three years. Why would they even receive more pension in the first place? After asking the employee, I find out that my parents' pension has been wired into the bank card as normal throughout the years. My husband, Christian Stone, was the one who had previously updated the bank card details at the social security center. Once I get home, I demand answers from Christian after playing him the recording of the phone call. He falls silent for a very long time before telling me the truth. It turns out that he never registered my parents' death back then. Till now, their corpses have been stored in a freezer in my childhood home. That bank card had received a total of 90 thousand dollars' worth of pension over the past three years. Christian has given all of the money to his ex-wife, Lydia Swanson, in order to support her financially. But the thing is, he never gave me a single cent for Alina's treatment before.

Five years into my marriage to the Don, Ives Moretti, he left me for dead during a shootout to get his mistress, Isabella, to safety. I woke up three days later in a private hospital room. No apology. Ives was cold. “You’re my wife. You knew the risks. Stop being so dramatic.” Then, he added, “Isabella’s different. She’s fragile. She needed me.” That was followed by three months of the silent treatment. Like always, he expected me to be the one to break, to come crawling back begging for forgiveness. Three months later, I handed the Irish deal to Isabella on a silver platter. The big one I’d spent half a year building myself. Ives thought it was a peace offering. He smiled, a rare, genuine thing these days. “I knew you’d come around. As a reward, we’ll go to Vegas. I know you’ve always wanted to go.” The next day, Isabella whined about being bored, and he broke his promise. He took her to Vegas instead. Told me it was “urgent family business.” This time, I didn’t cry. Didn’t make a scene. Ives was pleased I was being so understanding. He had no idea I was already cutting all ties to the Moretti family. That he’d already signed the divorce papers. I was free.

A Biker/Billionaire/Mafia Romance With my fingers gliding across his flesh, I kept contact as I moved around to his back and across the broad expanse between each shoulder. Afterward, I ran my fingers in a soft caress over the nape of his neck—God, how I'd always wanted to touch him in this way—and then began making my way over to the opposite shoulder, shortly coming around to his collarbone. Afterward, with a pivot of my fingertips, and practiced turns of my feet, I came a full one hundred and eighty degrees, facing him again. As I gazed into his eyes, my breathing increased, and I felt myself give a small pant as I moved my fingers down to his chest... Shattered-Way down we Go" - A heart-wrenching tango of love, loss, and redemption unfolds as Marlowe Mills, the daughter of the president for The Sons of Morning Star MC, is secretly in love with Torin Montero, a member of her father's MC, who becomes her father's rival and her silent protector. However her love is torn apart by a brutal betrayal. When the embers of their past reignite, Marlowe finds herself in the treacherous embrace of a Mob boss's son, entangled in a web of obsession and danger. But fate has a twist in store: Torin lives, scarred and driven by his own vendetta. As the lines between love and vengeance blur, Marlowe must choose between the comfort of the shadows or the tumultuous dance of destiny.

When Alpha King Theron inherits his father’s war, love is the last thing he needs—especially not for another man. Surrounded by enemies and a council that already doubts the boy who sits on the throne his father died for, Theron rules with duty as his only compass, trying to ignore the pressure to give the pack an heir. Then Commander Cael—the silent, battle-scarred strategist whose victories have already become legend—is sent to fight beside him and protect him. Cael is cold, brilliant, and maddeningly defiant, and Theron can’t fight the attraction he feels. The desire is forbidden, and in their world, even a whisper of affection between men is punishable by death. Desperate to bury his feelings after a kiss one night, Theron sends Cael to the front lines and marries a noblewoman, convincing himself that distance will smother the fire. But when Cael saves his life on the battlefield, Theron feels the unmistakable pull of fated mates. Only, Cael isn’t Cael. He is Maera, a woman disguised as her dead twin brother, forced to live as a man to survive the battlefield and the laws that deny her a place in the packs army. When Theron finds out while trying to further their intimacy one night, he feels betrayed. Now, hunted by the council and surrounded by enemies, Theron must choose: his throne, or to protect the woman who lied to him—the woman fate chose to be his forbidden mate.

"Stop right there, Evan! You can't fool me." Grace stretched out her hands to the right and left, preventing her best friend from leaving. "I know you're hiding something." Evan crossed his arms over his chest. "Don't be so confident. And please, know your place. I have the power to replace you with anyone else." He leaned toward her and whispered to her ear. "Or, are you trying to seduce me? How much is your rate for one night?" Upon hearing it, Grace gave him a smack across the face. She was silent for a moment in disbelief. Tears started to roll down her cheeks. "You're so mean, Evan. I-hate-you," she said, heartbroken. She turned away from him without further ado. Evan teared up too, looking at his best friend leaving. "I'm sorry, Grace. I had to do it. We can't be together," he said weakly. Grace and Evan became best friends after he saved her and her mother following a traffic collision. Their friendship grew stronger for years until they became inseparably fond of each other. However, fate played jokes on them. They had to separate for years, lose contact and bury their dreams. When they finally reunited in the same workplace, everything was not the same as it used to be.

Angela Hunter. She died once—betrayed by the two people she trust and loved most. But the moon goddess gave her a second chance. A second life. This time, she wouldn’t fall for a pretty face or promises wrapped in lies. This time, she’d find a mate before fate dragged her back into hell. So she picked the darkest, most dangerous wolf she could find. He doesn’t smile. He barely speaks. He smells like secrets and death. But when he looks at her, it’s like he sees every crack in her soul—and wants to hold the pieces. She asked him to pretend. She didn’t mean to fall. Aaron Shepard. He was never meant to fall in love. With vengeance burning through his veins, he walked the world like a shadow—cold, silent, and deadly. But then she came along—reckless, stubborn, and wild-eyed—and flipped his world off its axis. Now, she thinks he’s just a rogue. A stranger willing to pose as her mate to prevent her from getting chosen. But every time she smiles at another man, he feels something unholy crawl under his skin. She doesn’t know he’s the Alpha king. She doesn’t know he would tear down packs to keep her safe. And she definitely doesn’t know…She’s already his.

I sold my body to a Werewolf King to save my sister's life. The contract was simple: I become the silent, obedient wife of Kaelen, the most ruthless Alpha in the city, for five years. In return, he pays for the cure that will save her. He is a monster of ice and power, a king who rules from a skyscraper throne. I am just a human, a pawn in a game I don't understand. He thinks he owns me. He lays down the rules with a voice like frozen steel: Don't touch me. Don't ask questions. And never, ever look me in the eye. But the first time his skin brushes mine, a searing energy erupts between us. His cold control shatters, and for a single, terrifying second, his eyes flash with feral gold. He shoves me away like I’ve burned him, his snarl echoing through our gilded cage, "Get out!" Now, I'm trapped in his world of deadly pack politics and ancient magic. He's cruel, distant, and yet his gaze follows my every move, burning with a possessive fire that contradicts every word he says. I’ve just discovered the dangerous truth he’s been hiding: I am not just his purchased bride. I am his fated mate. And the powerful enemy hunting us has just found out that the key to destroying the Werewolf King… is me.

I accidentally saw a notification pop up on my husband’s phone saying that an automatic transfer had been completed when I was using it for navigation. Immediately after that, his ex-girlfriend, Wanda Blake, sent him a message on WhatsApp: [I’ve received this month’s 10,000 dollars for child support. Thank you, Koah. I don't know what I would have done without you.] I froze. “Child support? “Koah, you told me that the money you send every month was for medical expenses for your mother’s treatment!” Koah Quinn’s expression stiffened as he explained, “Honey, don’t misunderstand. I just felt that life has become really hard for her because she’s a woman raising a child on her own. Her ex-husband refuses to pay child support, so I wanted to help her out…” I touched the old watch on my wrist. The one I had not replaced in years to save money, and felt extremely disappointed. “Your monthly salary is only 6,000 dollars. Where did you get so much money to send her?” He was silent for some time before finally admitting. “I used the money we had set aside for the new house’s downpayment.” I was stunned. He had taken the money my parents had scrimped and saved for decades for me as downpayment for a home and then transferred it to his ex-girlfriend as child support.

The air in the penthouse was thick with unspoken words and the lingering heat of a shared victory. He stood before her, the ice in his gaze finally melted, revealing a raw vulnerability that stole the breath from her lungs. “This wasn’t part of the contract,” he murmured, his voice a rough caress as his thumb traced the line of her jaw. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird against the gilded cage of their agreement. “I know.” His fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck, tilting her face up to his. The world narrowed to the space between them, to the shocking warmth of his skin against hers. “Then tell me to stop, Ivy. Give me the rules. Give me the clause.” She should. Every instinct for self-preservation screamed at her to rebuild the walls, to remember he was her enemy, her jailer, her temporary husband. But as she looked into the stormy grey depths of his eyes, she saw not the ruthless CEO, but the man who had just looked at her daughter as if she were the most precious thing in the world. So, she didn’t speak. Instead, she rose onto her toes, closing the distance, her lips a breath away from his in a silent, devastating answer. The first kiss was not a conquest, but a surrender. It was not about revenge or contracts. It was a question, and in the shuddering breath he released against her mouth, she found her answer. The cold, platinum wedding band finally felt warm against her skin.