Threads Of Tradition

Am Abend vor der Hochzeit, der Verlobte, Professor für Geschichte, Theo Günther, feierte jedoch mit seiner krebskranken erste Liebe eine traditionelle Hochzeit in einem abgelegenen Dorf. Er hielt die Hand von Julia Richter unter dem Sternenhimmel und lächelte sanft: „Nach der Tradition gilt die, die zuerst heiratet, als die rechtmäßige Frau. Selbst wenn ich bereits ein Zertifikat mit Elina Meyer habe, bleibt sie nur eine niedere Konkubine.“ Mit den Glückwünschen der Anwesenden tranken sie den Hochzeitswein und betraten das Brautgemach. Ich jedoch, sah alles ohne zu weinen oder zu schreien, reservierte ruhig einen Termin für die Abtreibung. Von fünfzehn bis dreißig Jahren habe ich Theo fünfzehn Jahre lang geliebt. Doch in seinem Herzen hatte immer nur meine Stiefschwester Julia Richter ihren Platz. Wenn dem so ist, lasse ich los. Später trat ich der isolierten geologischen Forschungseinheit in der Antarktis bei, ließ Theo nur einen Scheidungsvertrag und ein Scheidungsgeschenk. Doch aus irgendeinem Grund, Theo Günther, der mich stets verachtete, erlangte plötzlich weißes Haar in einer einzigen Nacht.

When tradition and duty intertwine, the fiercely independent second princess of the Ravenscroft kingdom, Seraphina Lyonheart, finds herself thrust into a life she never desired. ***** Still licking the wounds instilled by a heartbreaking betrayal, Seraphina is married off as a substitute bride to Prince Xander, a man whose mere name was capable of instilling fear into the heart of people. Her betrothed, however, is mated and seems to hate her guts. Yet a fiery spirit burns within her as she yearns for the power to shape her own destiny. While enduring the harsh confines of her new life, Seraphina discovers a hidden world of rebel werewolves determined to overthrow the oppressive monarchy. Drawn to their cause, she secretly trains with the rebels, honing her strength and harnessing her latent powers. As her skills develop, Seraphina becomes a formidable force, ready to challenge the injustices perpetrated by the ruling elite. Amidst the brewing rebellion, Seraphina uncovers the truth about Prince Xander's intentions and as his mask of cruelty slips, she realizes that there may be more to their connection than she initially believed. Caught between her growing feelings for her husband and the rebellion's call for justice, Seraphina must navigate a treacherous path, torn between loyalty and her own desires. Will Seraphina's rebellion succeed in toppling the cruel monarchy and grant her the freedom she seeks? And can she reconcile her complicated feelings for the prince while staying true to the cause she believes in?

Montréal, 1944. Dans la maison des Joyal, quelqu'un veut hériter. Jeannine Joyal consulte en secret un aliéniste pour sa sœur Emma — riche paralytique convaincue que sa famille veut la tuer. Le médecin la rassure. Il viendra l'examiner le lendemain. Il n'en aura pas le temps. Cette nuit-là, une surdose de morphine faillit emporter Emma. Un poignard finit le travail. Les suspects sont nombreux — le frère coureur, le père sénile, la sœur dévouée — mais le détective Albert Brien a les yeux fixés sur un seul homme : Irénée Paiement, le fiancé admirable. Celui en qui Emma avait confiance. Celui que tout le monde trouvait irréprochable. Trop irréprochable. Une vieille photo, une loupe, et des empreintes digitales vieilles de dix ans suffiront à Brien pour démolir l'imposture — et révéler derrière le masque du saint un assassin de sang-froid qui porte deux visages depuis une décennie. MORPHINE ET POIGNARD — un polar noir signé YZAK, dans la grande tradition du roman criminel canadien-français.

With Alpha Cain…there's just something with him that makes my blood boil to the hottest degree, my mind roaring with spite and disdain every time I look at him in the eyes. I often ask myself, "Am I really sure to be the Alpha's Pet or am I just looking at the fastest way to die?" Maybe I'll never know the answer. Maybe I also knew the answer already. But deep inside, one thing's for sure: I hate Alpha Cain. But I also like some part of him. And I hate that part of myself that liked the part of him. *** Anastasia is an I-don't-fucking-care type of Omega who, because she's already bruised outside and broken deep inside, just accepts whatever comes her way. But Alpha Cain somehow liked her wicked mouth. She's the only Omega who can talk back to him with enough sarcasm and wits that most of his pack members lack of. And in the tradition of most packs, whether in every year, months, or even weeks and days, the Alpha will choose among Omegas as his Pet: a more accurate term for his personal bed warmer. It is an actual title in a pack reserved to only one person, with benefits and privileges on its own. And because Anastasia accidentally became drunk the night Alpha Cain tested her skills in bed, she rode so wild and satisfied the Alpha more than he expected. And a hate-to-love, pet-to-lovers tale began to unfold.

"Melina, my dear," The alpha king declared as he entered the chamber, his voice rich with authority. "The time has come for our union. I would like you to disrobe." In the face of such a demand, Melina stood her ground, her voice unwavering. "I, Melina Haephastus, refuse Your Majesty," she stated firmly as she walked gently backwards. A palpable tension hung heavy in the air, as the king's countenance contorted, a display of surprise mingled with frustration. He strode purposefully towards her, his narrowed eyes fixed upon her. A derisive chuckle escaped his lips as he advanced. "Refuse? You dare to reject the authority of his highness, Melina?" Drawing upon an inner strength, Melina met his gaze, unyielding. "I am more than a mere vessel for an heir, Your Majesty," she asserted, her voice ringing with determination. "I am an individual with my own hopes and aspirations. I will not allow myself to be reduced to a mere breeder." *** Melina, once the niece of a rebel leader who had dared to conspire against the Alpha King in league with outsiders, now found herself a captive within the opulent walls of his palace. The King deemed her the perfect candidate to bear his heir, a role that sought to firmly ensnare her in the machinations of his reign. Against the backdrop of political intrigue and deceptions lurking within the shadows, Melina was faced with a formidable choice. Would she succumb to the shackles of her predetermined destiny? Or would she rise above, unraveling the truths concealed by the threads of conspiracy, and forging her own path? Follow Melina's journey as her determination pushes against the constraints of societal expectations and unveils a web of hidden truths.

“Desmond,” I breathed out, “don’t.” But he didn't listen to my plea. His lips found my neck, his teeth gently grazing the frantic pulse that betrayed my panic. My skin instantly lit up beneath his mouth, a complete traitor to my mind. When his hand slid lower, tugging at the drawstring of my skirt, a terrifying mix of panic and deep heat crashed together inside me. “Desmond, please. This is wrong.” “Nothing about you has ever been wrong to me,” he growled out against my throat. Clothes instantly fell away as if they had never mattered. My shirt. His shirt. My skirt. The last threads of my will to fight. He settled heavily between my thighs, a burning hot weight. I felt him hard against me, thick and urgently insistent. My breath hitched sharply when the blunt head of his cock nudged my entrance. “Tell me to stop, Ana,” he said, his voice ragged, his eyes desperately locked on mine. “Say the word, and I will immediately.” I opened my mouth to speak. No sound escaped. He pushed in, moving with agonizing slowness, stretching me open inch by painful inch. A broken, strangled sound left my throat as he filled me completely, buried deep to the hilt inside my most intimate space. My inner walls instantly clenched around him, shocked, aching, and intensely alive. He stilled his movement, letting me fully register every powerful throb of him inside me. “Fuck, Ana,” he groaned, his forehead dropping to mine. “You feel completely like mine.” Then, he moved again.

During the ten years since I was found and brought to my biological family, Sonia Baxter, the girl who took my place, and I have been as close as real sisters. Even Mom says that Sonia cares more about me than a real sister would. I once swore I'd give my life to protect our special family of four. When Sonia is rushed into emergency surgery with a ruptured cerebral aneurysm, I am in my office, calmly practicing a basic suturing technique on a surgical simulator. On the screen, the robotic arm threads the needle with such precision that it looks like a work of art. A few minutes later, my boyfriend, Oliver Lyons, slams open the office door and shouts at me, "Amelia Baxter! Sonia's in critical condition. Only your micro-dissection skills can save her! Every expert in the hospital is waiting for you! We've got less than an hour before the window closes!" He looks at me with hopeful eyes. I'm the only person in the country capable of performing a surgery this complex. My hands are even known as the "Hands of God". However, I simply reply with a hum and continue fiddling with the model. Suddenly, my parents rush in. Mom grabs my arm and cries out, "Amelia! That's your sister in there! How could you just stand by and watch her die?" I gently pull away from her and hold my right hand out in front of them. This hand, which had once created countless medical miracles, is now trembling slightly. "Unfortunately, since yesterday, I've been showing symptoms of essential tremor. Dad, Mom… this hand is ruined."

Adrian woke to warmth, too much warmth. His heart nearly stopped when he realized his head was resting against Kaelen’s chest, their legs tangled beneath the sheets. Panic surged. He shoved himself upright, only to freeze when he saw it, thin, glowing red threads coiling around his wrist, binding him to Kaelen. His blood ran cold. “What the hell…?” Adrian whispered, staring at the unmistakable bond mark. Kaelen stirred, blinking awake. For a moment, confusion flickered in his eyes, then shock. He tugged the sheet up to cover himself, gaze darting between Adrian and the red mark linking them. “What did you do? Adrian hissed, his voice breaking. You’re my sister’s fiancé! You’re supposed to be her mate, not...” He trembled as he scrambled for his clothes. Kaelen sat up, still staring at the line as though it mocked him. “I… I don’t know. But this—this isn’t a mistake. Adrian, you’re my mate.” “No!. Adrian’s hands shook as he pulled his shirt over his head. Whatever happened last night...forget it. This is wrong. You hear me? It never happened. Don’t you dare breathe a word of this to anyone.” Kaelen’s voice softened, almost pleading. “Adrian…” But Adrian couldn’t bear to listen. His chest ached as he turned away, slamming the door behind him, leaving Kaelen staring at the red bond that refused to fade. Two souls tied together by fate. One forbidden connection that could destroy them both.

We all have an inspiration to live. We all have that one person who keeps us from fighting and moving. That someone who keeps our heart beating. That someone who keeps on giving us a blissful morning. But what if one morning while laying in the dark, the person you loved the most is the person you can't remember anymore? Fall Navarez never thought that this day would come. Never did he think of losing the memories of that someone in his head. Later did he realize, he came up with a question: "Who's Grace?" There's a lot of variations in their testimonies. Some have scarlet threads attached. Some had loose strings which means a dead end. Fall Navarez didn't know what story he had to believe. He wanted to believe them all, but every person he asked, died the day after. "Grace is your girlfriend, Fall." "Hell no! Grace is your wife." "That would be gross, but I only know was that Grace is your sister." "Oh my God, you really don't know, do you? Grace is your f*ckin' psychologist!" Why would Fall had a psychologist, assuming that Grace is indeed one? "You're hell-bent, Fall! You're crazy!" "Who's Grace?! Answer now or I'll f*cking kill you!" He smirked. "As you did to your mother?" he held his tongue and spit saliva at Fall. "Hell yeah! YOU KILLED YOUR F*CKING MOTHER!" Maybe there's someone who's deceiving. Maybe someone had asked them to deceive Fall! But wait, where was the lie? To the you-killed-Grace part or the Grace-is-your-mother part? Hmm, did Grace really fall from grace? "Put the gun in your mouth. . . pull the trigger." FALL FROM GRACE by ANONYGLITCH

While I'm patching up the injured wolves in the pack, I overhear a few young Omegas muttering among themselves while sharing a photo to each other in a corner. Apparently, it's a post that has been uploaded by a social media account named "True Love Above All". "He told me that the she-wolf by his side only needs a title. As for me, I need his protection. This is the amulet he has obtained from a witch after visiting the forbidden grounds." In the photo, the amulet can be seen emitting a magical glow. I know that he's the only one in the entire pack who's capable of obtaining this amulet. I look down at my empty wrist. Today is the Christmas Eve. According to the pack's tradition, mates must exchange tokens of love with each other. When I return to the pack house at night, Alpha Ethan enters the house while smelling like another she-wolf. He pulls out a cheap-looking bangle—that still has half a price tag stuck onto it—from his pocket before tossing it onto the couch casually. "This bangle is for you, Maya. It's the most popular style this year." As I pick up the mass-produced bangle that can be found in any accessory store, I feel the coldness of my fingertips seeping into my heart. It turns out that Alpha Ethan thinks he can easily fool me with a random gift despite me being the Luna. Yet, the she-wolf—whose identity he refuses to give away—gets to enjoy the protection he has risked his life obtaining for her sake.