Veruca Salt Squirrels

I was sent to evaluate him. Now, he’s the one judging my soul. As a psychologist for the Pacific Behavioral Unit, I deal with the most dangerous shifters in the Territories. But Mason Cross isn’t just a prisoner. He’s the King of the West Coast, a lethal Alpha with emerald eyes that don’t just look at me—they strip me bare. One mistake in a silver-lined cell, and I’m no longer the doctor. I’m the prey. When a night at the Velvet Moon turns into a bloodbath, Mason doesn't just save me—he claims me. He hauls me to his brutalist fortress on the cliffs, a world of glass, salt, and ancient wolf laws. He says he’s protecting me from the Lunar Syndicate. He says I’m his prisoner for my own safety. But as his hands find the curve of my waist and his teeth graze the pulse point of my throat, I realize the "Mask of Civility" is slipping. Behind the tailored suits and the CEO title is a beast that hasn't fed in a long time. I have a silver blade in my stays and a secret in my blood that could burn the Territories to the ground. But when the moon rises over the Cross Estate, I don’t want to run. I want to see if the King of the Ferals bites as hard as he barks. High stakes. Raw instinct. A love that draws blood.

Aqua Lannister believed in loving wholeheartedly, and she showered her affections on her mate, giving him everything—her heart, her trust, her body, even her unborn child. She sacrificed her future to help him achieve his dreams, providing him with support, dedication, and funding. Yet what did she get in return? Cold-hearted betrayal. Aqua comes home to find her mate and fiancé in the arms of her stepmother. Everything she believed in unraveled before her eyes, and one fall down a flight of stairs stole the life of her baby, leaving Aqua alone, broken, and bleeding. But the worst had yet to come. To add salt to her wounds, Aqua comes to know that her mate never loved her, and everything they had shared was just a calculated revenge plan. One that was born from a grudge against her late mother, whose past has left shadows that reach into Aqua’s life. Disowned by the father she once trusted, poisoned by her stepmother, and hunted by enemies she doesn’t yet understand, Aqua is left with nothing but her pain and fury. So what happens when a mysterious masked biker steps into her life, offering to help her back to her feet? As Aqua is thrown into a world where deception thrives and bikes roar louder than the truth, will she risk trusting again, or let the past define her forever?

“Do you know what arousal tastes like, little wolf?” The rich deepness of his voice dripped into her ears like honey. His grip on her thighs was firm, scalding, even as her legs wrapped around him. Those emerald eyes darkened with a hunger that ignited every heat pore inside of her. Behind her, Evander’s lean athletic figure pressed against her back, sandwiching her between them. His face buried deep in her neck and the messy red hair sending tingles down her spine with every brush against her cheek. “I'll tell you,” he rasped, answering his brother's question. “It tastes like submission... salt, sweat, and the sweet little whimpers she tries to hide from us.” ****** Rochelle thought agreeing to an open relationship with her long-time crush would bring her closer to love, until he leaked a private video and humiliated her in front of the entire school. Heartbroken and furious, she turns to the last people anyone would expect: the cold, dangerous Rogue Princes, her new stepbrothers and Darren’s worst enemies. They agree to help her destroy him… but only if she plays their twisted game. Fake romance by day and their dirty little secret by night. But they say you should never make a deal with the devil because he won't stop until there's nothing left of you. In her case, there were three of them. And the worst thing she did was fall for them.

Lucas Solís y yo éramos conocidos en la capital como la pareja más conflictiva. Él me despreciaba por considerarme una mujer sin escrúpulos que lo había obligado a casarse conmigo a toda costa. Yo lo odiaba porque cada noche le guardaba fidelidad a Claudia, mientras que a mí me trataba con una frialdad glacial. Durante ocho años de matrimonio, lo que más me decía fue que me fuera. Cuando llegó la inundación, Lucas, que siempre me había dirigido palabras crueles, me cedió el último lugar en el bote salvavidas. Me gritó: —¡No mires atrás, vete rápido! Elisa, ya no te debo nada. En la próxima vida, solo quiero estar con Claudia. Intenté salvarlo, pero me sujetaron con fuerza. Finalmente, solo pude ver cómo las aguas se lo tragaban. El equipo de rescate llegó tarde. Su cuerpo, ya hinchado y descompuesto por el agua, aún apretaba con fuerza el amuleto de Claudia, imposible de soltar. Más tarde, vendí todas mis propiedades para donarlas a la zona afectada y salté al vacío para seguirlo a la tumba. Al abrir los ojos, me encontré de vuelta en la noche en que drogaron a Lucas.

El día del examen de admisión a la universidad, la amiga de la infancia de mi novio se dio cuenta de que dejó su pase de admisión en casa. Él insistió en regresar para buscarlo por ella, pero yo intenté impedírselo. Al final, ella no se presentó al examen de humanidades. Desesperada, saltó por su propia cuenta a su muerte. Tiempo después, mi novio y yo fuimos admitidos en la Universidad Bloomdale, la mejor del país. Desarrollamos carreras exitosas y ganamos salarios millonarios; nuestro matrimonio era perfecto. Sin embargo, en el aniversario de la muerte de su amiga, mi esposo me apuñaló repetidamente, quitándome la vida. —Fue tu culpa que muriera —dijo—. Si yo hubiera vuelto a buscar el pase de admisión de Ginger, ella no habría perdido la esperanza ni se habría quitado la vida. Cuando volví a abrir los ojos, me di cuenta de que estaba de vuelta en el mismo día del examen. La voz ansiosa de mi novio resonó en mi oído: —Amelia, tengo que regresar a buscar el pase de admisión de Ginger. Esta vez, sonreí y dije: —Adelante. Por favor, ten cuidado.

Al renacer en esta segunda vida, tomé una decisión: mantendría la máxima distancia posible de Santiago Fernández. Cuando lo vi llegar como director a mi empresa, renuncié esa misma tarde. Cuando compró un apartamento en mi edificio, me mudé al otro extremo de la ciudad. Y cuando anunció que dirigiría el imperio familiar desde aquí, solicité mi traslado internacional. En mi vida anterior, lo había obligado a casarse conmigo usando mi embarazo como chantaje. Pero justo el día de la boda, su primer amor regresó. Al vernos juntos en el altar, corrió hacia la terraza y saltó al vacío. Santiago fingió que nada había pasado y se casó conmigo, sonriendo. El día de nuestro aniversario de bodas, nos llevó a mi hija y a mí a hacer puénting. Pero él cortó las cuerdas, y mi hija y yo caímos, muriendo destrozadas. Después de nuestra muerte, se inclinó sobre nuestros cuerpos y rio con crueldad: —¡Si no fuera por ti, Valentina no se habría suicidado! ¡Ahora ve y págale por tu culpa! Cuando volví a abrir los ojos, había regresado a esa noche en que usé mi embarazo para obligarlo a casarse.

Eira Silverclaw’s heart shattered as she stood before the man she had given everything to—the man she had loved, trusted, and sacrificed for. For three years, she had poured her soul into their marriage, taking on responsibilities beyond her own, all for the sake of their pack’s future. But now, on the third anniversary of their union, everything she had worked for was crumbling in an instant. Her husband, Alpha Kieran Blackthorn, was no longer the man she had married. The pride in his eyes as he gazed at the woman he brought home—his mistress, pregnant with his child—was a dagger to her heart. The audacity of his words, cold and calculated, rang in her ears. “She is pregnant with our child. Since you couldn’t afford to give birth for three years, her child will be ours too. The three of us. Now, you should refer to her as a younger sister.” Her breath caught in her throat. "Shameless." The word echoed in her mind, but she couldn’t speak it aloud. What could she say? Her world was falling apart, and he was only adding salt to the wound. With her marriage falling apart, Eira wasn’t the type to let anyone decide her fate—not even the man who had once been everything to her. “Marry me, Magnus Ironfang.” She looked into the eyes of her husband’s most dangerous rival—the cursed Alpha of the North. Cold, ruthless, and feared by all, Magnus was the last man anyone would expect her to turn to. But with her marriage in ruins and her heart broken, what did she have left to lose?

I’m on my knees again, wrists bound tight behind my back with silk that bites just enough to remind me who owns me tonight. He circles slow, leather boots echoing on the marble, and I can already taste the salt of anticipation on my tongue. When he finally grips my hair and yanks my head back, his cock—thick, veined, leaking—slaps heavy against my cheek. “Open,” he growls. I do, and he thrusts in deep, no warning, stretching my throat until my eyes water. The wet, choking sounds fill the room—gluck-gluck-gluck—as he fucks my mouth with brutal rhythm, hips snapping, balls slapping my chin. Every plunge forces a gag, spit dripping down my chest, but fuck, the burn in my jaw and the way he groans low makes me leak onto the floor. He pulls out just to slap my face with his slick length, then rams back in, deeper, claiming every inch until I’m nothing but his hole. ** This collection plunges headfirst into the raw, unfiltered world of explicit gay dominance and submission, where powerful alphas—billionaires, mob bosses, ruthless mentors—claim their willing (and sometimes reluctant) boys with iron control and unrelenting hunger. Every story drips with dark MM heat: contracts signed in sweat and cum, red rooms equipped for flogging, bondage, edging, and total power exchange. Expect graphic, immersive scenes of throat-fucking, ass-pounding, breeding fantasies, impact play that leaves marks, and aftercare laced with possession.

My adoptive parents' long-lost daughter came back. She's a wellness influencer. She eats from crystal bowls she "cleansed." Sleeps with a white noise machine. She will only ride in a custom, climate-controlled car. That's not all. She filled our family's Manhattan law firm with Himalayan salt lamps and energy crystals. The espresso in the conference room? Replaced with gluten-free, organic dandelion root tea. "The energy here is so murky," she'd say. "We need to cleanse the world with love and light!" My guilt-ridden parents gave her everything she wanted. Even my fiancé told me, "Ava, you stole twenty years of her Upper East Side life. Can't you cut her some slack?" The day of the final hearing for our firm's biggest case, the entire court had to wait for her to finish her "emotional cleansing meditation." The judge was furious. I stood up. Delivered a flawless closing argument. I won our client $500 million and secured the future of the firm. But at the party, she had a drunken breakdown, fell into the pool, and drowned. My parents and my fiancé blamed me for everything. "You always have to win, don't you? It was a simple, open-and-shut case. You couldn't even let her have that?" They had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. They destroyed my law license and my reputation. They even had me injected with a fatal overdose of sedatives. I died full of hate. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back. Back to the day she was crying on her Instagram Live, begging for the case. This time, I walked straight into our rival's law firm. This "sure-win" case? I'm going to make you lose everything.

I plan on ordering some food using my husband's phone, yet I've noticed a remark that's been saved on the delivery app. "The food is for a pregnant lady. Please make sure to be hygienic and use less oil and salt when making the dishes." I can feel my heart sink. I turn my gaze toward the bathroom, where my husband is. I can't figure out why my husband, who's been firm about not wanting a child, has been ordering meals for pregnant women. After a moment of hesitation, I scroll through the delivery app's order history with shaky hands. Numerous orders have been placed with the same restaurant, one that specializes in making exquisite dishes designed for pregnant women. Each of these food orders costs more than ten thousand dollars. My husband's company address has been chosen as the delivery address, and he's also the recipient. … After exiting the delivery app, I sit on the couch and stare into space. As I look at my husband's well-defined muscles, I recall how he, who's about to hit 40, is suddenly quite invested in getting in shape over the past year. I blurt out asking, "Have you been ordering food to your office often lately?" My husband freezes for a split second. Then, he fixes me with a gentle gaze. "I do that once in a while. Why are you suddenly asking about that? By the way, I haven't had the sweet and sour meatballs you make in a long while. Can you make some for me so that I can bring them to the office for my lunch tomorrow?" I smile at him and agree to his request. Still, I toss and turn in bed as the remark about the pregnant lady in his phone keeps gnawing at me that night.