Twentieth

I’d been in love with Cassian Cross—my brother’s best friend, the one and only mafia boss in the NYC—for as long as I could remember. On the night of my twentieth birthday, my brother promised me a surprise. I didn’t expect that surprise to be a very drunk, very kissable Cassian. One reckless night. One baby boy. Cassian agreed to marry me after giving birth. But the day I gave birth to Leo, Cassian said nothing. He just packed up and vanished to France for nearly five years. Then he returned with Alessia. His first love. And when she saw Leo and me, she ran away and disappeared. After that, Cassian never left my side. Like he was trying to be the man I needed all along, that we were finally going to have our chance. But fairytales are lies wrapped in pretty paper. On Leo’s sixth birthday, we were driving to dinner. The brakes failed. The car spun onto the highway, flames licking at the engine. Cassian got out. And then he locked the door. “If it weren’t for you, Alessia would still be by my side. Now? It’s your turn to suffer.” It wasn’t until that moment I understood—Cassian had never loved me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my twenties birthday. Cassian was in my bed, exactly where I’d left him in the past. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I ran. And on my way out, I made the call I should’ve made the first time. To Alessia.

The novel is mainly about the forgotten British poet/writer named C. J Richards who lived in Burma/Myanmar in colonial times and he believed himself as a Burmophile. He served as I.C.S (Indian Civil Servant) and when he retired from I.C.S service, he was a D.C (District Commissioner) and he left for England a year before Burma gained its independence in 1948. He came to Burma in 1920 to work in civil service after passing the hardest I.C.S examination. He wrote several books on Burma and contributed many monthly articles to Guardian Magazine published in Burma from 1953 to 1974 or 1975. Though he wrote several books which had much literary merit to both communities, Britain and Burma (Myanmar), people failed to recognize him. The story has two parts: one part is set in the contemporary Yangon (then called Rangoon) in 2016 context and a young literary enthusiast named “Lin” found out unexpectedly the forgotten writer’s poetry book and there is surely a good deal of time gap that led him into a quest to know more about the author’s life. The setting is quite different comparing to colonial Burma and independence Myanmar (Burma), early twentieth century and 2016 which is a transitional period in Myanmar. The writer’s life is fictionalized in the novel and most of the facts are taken from his personal stories and other reference books. It is a kind of historical novel with a twist and it has comparatively constructed the two different periods in Myanmar history to convince readers, locally and abroad more about history, authorship, humanity, colonialism, and transitional development in Myanmar today.

My boyfriend, Tom, promised a grand mating ceremony for my twentieth birthday. But at my banquet, he publicly requested a mate link with my stepsister, Lily. While the whole pack roared and cheered, I just stood there like a fool. The betrayal hit hard. Before I could even breathe, Sam—the Obsidian Pack's Alpha heir—said he'd secretly loved me all along and asked to claim me. I said yes. For five years, he spoiled me. Memorized my favorite runs, my wolf's quirks. Then I overheard him with his Beta: "Sam, Lily's Luna of White Rose Pack now, just like she wanted. You still gonna fake it with Any?" "I can't have Lily. Doesn't even matter who my mate is anymore. As long as I'm with Any, Lily's safe and happy." Later that night, I found his safe in the study. Inside? Every single thing she ever gave him. Handmade wolf fang pendants. Letters sealed with her paw print. His prized chest armor, every single scale etched with her name: [Lily, my dearest love. I'd shred through every thorn for your smile.] [Lily, rip out my wolf heart if you needed it. ] [Lily! Hell, I'd steal the whole damn world if you asked.] Five years. Five years of lies, shattered in seconds. I filed my request to leave the pack. In two days, I'd be out of Sam's life for good.

Explicit Romance | BDSM Themes | Read With Headphones and Holy Water right beside you.🔞‼️⚠️ ***** Rhydian’s middle finger plunged deep into my slick core. “Rimming you feels so good, little Wolf?” I writhed, my core clenching around his finger, craving more. “Your scent… one of a kind.” Astarian growled, slowly adding his finger. My head fell off the mattress’ edge, eyes locking onto the opposite mirror. My toes curled, leaving me trembling as ecstasy built inside me from the penetration of both fingers. “As… Asta—” My voice trembled. “Walls have ears in the palace.” Tavian groaned, easing his cock into my mouth with sweat smearing the skin. “You’re our little slut.” ~~~~~ Twenty years ago, the three Alpha kings slaughtered my Omega clan. But the Moon Goddess cursed their unborn sons by binding them to a single fated mate they were to claim before their twentieth birthday, or die. I am that mate. And I want them dead. Rhydian Frost despises me on sight, even as the bond screams at him to get closer. Tavian Ashborne seduces me like it is a game, not realizing I am the one playing him. Astarian Grey offers devotion that could break my carefully guarded heart. I have powers they do not know Omegas possess—I can make them beg, take their forms, and bring alphas to their knees. My plan was perfect until the mate bond made it complicated. The closer I get to revenge, the harder it becomes to remember why I need it. Because intimacy is a weapon that cuts both ways, and destroying them might mean destroying myself. This is an Omega’s reckoning.

When my father's business collapsed, he racked up an astronomical debt to the Andor family. And when they finally came knocking, he did what no loving parent should ever do—he collateralized me, his only daughter, handing me over to Cassian before vanishing off the face of the earth. For ten long years, I stayed by Cassian Andor's side. He treated me with a tenderness so indulgent it bordered on worship. There was nothing I asked for that he would not give; there was no whim of mine he would not entertain. Everyone in our world knew me as his princess. I grew up believing with certainty that once I came of age, he would sweep me into his arms, march me down the aisle, and make me his wife. But reality—cold, brutal, and as dazzlingly cruel as the world we lived in—had other plans. Instead of the ring I had dreamed of, Cassian gifted a breathtaking pink diamond—the very symbol of eternal devotion—to his assistant, Heidi Torres. As if that wasn't betrayal enough, he threw a lavish celebration in her honor, a veritable explosion of flowers. He knew I was deathly allergic to pollen. Yet he still left me stranded there, drowning in a sea of blossoms. Eventually, I collapsed in a violent asthma attack, gasping and clawing for air, teetering on the edge of consciousness. And Cassian? He merely tightened his hold around Heidi in his arms and cast me a cold glance. "Your allergies have been fine for ages," he said with a sneer. "Why the sudden drama today? Don't tell me you're faking it." At that moment, as I lay there humiliated and struggling to breathe, I realized there were exactly seven days left until my twentieth birthday since when I could register a marriage.

BLURB "You drive me insane, Carla!" He growled, hoisting me on the desk. His lips brushed my jaw and my breath quickened when he slipped his fingers underneath my red dress. "Fuck, you are not wearing panties," He groaned, gripping my thighs possessively. I was filled with an unnerving amount of neediness and I had my fingers working on his belt in no time. "God, just fuck me already." I moaned, peering at him beneath my lashes. He muttered profanities under his breath, lifted me a little, and plunged into me swiftly. "Fuck!" I moaned, wrapping my legs around him to get more of what he was offering as he pounded into me, burying his head into my neck. "Mine!" He growled into my neck. ༆ Carla Jason and Dawson Walcott were the definitions of opposite attracts. Where Carla was naive—prim, innocent, and not ladylike, Dawson was the typical ruthless fuck-boy, who chased after anything in a skirt, especially the sexy ones. All his life, he had always hoped to meet his mate at his coronation ceremony of being the next Alpha of the Red Moon Pack, which was coming up in a few days but fate had other plans in store. Carla had walked in on him fucking another omega and she wasn't just a random omega to him. She was the omega he had always been in love with. Worse, she turned out to be his mate. Dawson knew how difficult it would be to make her his, given his history and what she had found out about him on the day he realized she was his mate. The complications weren't about to stop Dawson from claiming what was his before her twentieth birthday but was Carla going to allow herself to be vulnerable with a playboy?