Wake Meaning Death

Four days after my death, my four-year-old daughter finally sensed that something was terribly wrong. The fridge door slammed into her forehead when she tried to get a snack. Normally, I would've been there in a heartbeat—arms open, kisses ready, whispering, "You're okay, sweetheart, Mommy's here." But this time, I just lay on the bed, cold and still.​ She didn't understand. She thought the sweet treat would make me respond. So she held the final piece of chocolate up to my mouth. "Here, Mommy. Have some chocolate..." But I didn't even blink. She climbed into my arms, clutching my clothes tightly. "Mommy... Mommy, wake up..." She waited for me to stroke her hair, to tell her that everything was going to be fine. There was only silence.​ Completely lost and scared, she found my phone. "Daddy, why is Mommy still sleeping?" she asked, her voice filled with desperation.​ In response, Oliver sent a photo of himself having Christmas Eve dinner with his childhood sweetheart. His voice was icy cold when he replied, "She's just sleeping, not dead. It's Christmas Eve, and I'm busy. Tell her to stop playing games and come apologize when she's done sulking." Then he hung up.​ But when the truth finally hit Oliver—when the coroner's report came, when the police knocked on his door right in the middle of his laughter, when he realized I'd been lying dead for four days while he toasted—he broke.

My husband was dead. He had saved a girl from drowning, yet he himself perished in the icy river. As I sank into a chasm of grief, the girl's father appeared at my door. He glared at me and demanded, "Where is my daughter's necklace? She was wearing it before she fell into the water!" Rage surged through me, and in the heat of our confrontation, he ended up dead. Then my phone… came alive. "Hide the body. The police are coming. I'll teach you how to dispose of a corpse…"

Five years of marriage, and as the pack's Luna, I've never been to a single big celebration. Every Moonlight Festival, I spent it alone at home. It's simply because my mate told me the pack has a rule: wolves not raised within the pack cannot join pack gatherings. Even Lunas can't. To follow this rule, I endured my wolf spirit's unease and felt lonely for five solid years. Until the eve of another Elder Gathering, I stumbled upon a post from his first love on social media. Through another woman's account, I saw my mate. She posted pictures with my mate. For five years, at every Elder Gathering, they were side-by-side, never apart. That's when I realized, it wasn't that he couldn't make an exception. It was just that the one he'd make an exception for wasn't me.

As a child Thea always heard about the story of sleeping lycans from her grandma. Her grandma told her how the King of lycans was cursed and put to long life sleep because of his cruel and brutal nature. For her it was just a story, a story which her grandma told her but that is until she mistakenly awake the king of lycans. All it took was a drop of her blood for the king of lycans to break the curse. Nothing made sense to her when suddenly a man named Ares came in her life and claimed her as his mate. What Thea didn't knew that Ares was none other than the King of lycans and she was his human mate. And hell would break loose if Ares, the King of lycans would let go of her. Join Thea on her journey with a over possessive mate who happens to be the infamous lycan King.

I'd always seen myself a certain way, as a good and loving daughter, a girl who enjoyed reading and laying on the grass staring up at the sky. A simple and good person. But this world is cruel to simple, good people. In the year 1674 I was sentence to death. The people I grew up with, laughed and cried with the people I shared precious memories with, abandoned me, scorned me, called me horrible things and laughed as I died. But the thing about death is... It's not always permeant! But theirs would be. Their death's would be a long bloody nightmare! ----- Scarlet Grey was betrayed and abandoned by those she thought would always stand by her. So when the opportunity for vengeance is presented to her by a devilishly handsome stranger, she takes it and with it she became the eternal companion of an insane ancient vampire... Evan Evers. And sometimes... Insanity's contagious!

His name is Raive. The one who, 700 years ago, had lost. The necromancer who conquered half the world with an army of the undead, but then was buried alive under a terrible curse: never to die, never to be saved. He was so feared that all necromancy curses were buried with him, so that never again could such a dangerous magician arise. Angelina – a weak historian-necromancer whose only talent was a flawless grasp of the language of the dead. Fate willed it that she find a mysterious gravestone and break the seal holding the one who was never to be released: Raive – the King of the Dead! What will happen to them next? Will the Undead King help this unknown girl or will he use her mysterious blood to regain his own power and speed his way to the throne? What can they both do when passion begins to ruin all their plans, and dark desires call forth the worst poison?

"I'm sorry," he looked at me. My smile fell, "Sorry for what..." A silver knife was plunged into my heart before I could understand what was happening. Ava believed she had found solace in Sage. Their marriage seemed affectionate, even loving. But on the night of their wedding anniversary, her world shattered when she was stabbed by her husband. She uncovered a devastating truth, Sage was having an affair with none other than her twin brother. In a shocking twist, she wakes up two years in the past, reborn. Armed with the painful memories of her betrayal and death, she refuses to be a pawn ever again. This time, she won’t be the prey. She will be the predator.

Right after I die, my wife goes on a date with her first love. I once told her, "If I die, I swear I won't love you in the next life." She scoffs. "Gladly. But people like you live forever, don't they?" Just as she wishes, I die. However, right then, she holds my urn close, whispering, "Are you still mad at me?"

Layan Howler was a stray. She was the weakest wolf in her pack, the pack wasn't even sure if she was a wolf, after all she, in all her sixteen years had never shape-shifted. Armed with sheer will-power and spunk, she stepped out of their territory and faced a formidable enemy; highschool. There, she met two wolves, one with a mysterious air about him, and the other holding a secret only she knows. Faced with wolfish high school drama, mysterious disappearances, and two distracting as all hell wolves, Layan must up her game. But how does she do that if in a school who values brute strength, she is the weakest? Or is she? -Join Layan in her quest through the dangers of the woods, currents of the raging rivers, fires of teenage passion, and surprises of an unknown identity.

The most powerful Godfather in the mafia underworld—Dante Costello—had an expensive diamond signet ring custom-made to fit my finger perfectly and sent straight to our home. He said that whoever could wear the ring would become the lady of his family. The Monroe family had long since fallen from grace. All that remained were four women. On ordinary days, we fought endlessly, tearing each other apart. Every single one of us wanted to marry Dante because marrying him meant preserving a life of dignity and comfort. In the first life, the fake heiress, Blair, secretly had the ring resized smaller and married into the family. Dante took one look at her, then had her thrown into the river to drown. “Not her.” In the second life, my cousin, Chloe, underwent plastic surgery to alter her fingers and force the ring on. Dante gifted her a staged car accident. “Still not her.” In the third life, my stepmother, Catherine, clenched her teeth and forced the ring onto her finger. Her blood hadn’t even dried when she married Dante. He coldly slashed her face, then locked her in the basement, where she slowly wasted away until death. By the fourth life, all three of them were terrified. None of them dared to marry him anymore, so they hurriedly pushed me forward instead. I put on the ring. This time, the size was perfect. Just when I thought my good days had finally begun, Dante stabbed me to death on our wedding night, his eyes burning red with madness. After my rebirth, the consigliere of the Dante family delivered the ring once again. This time, all four of us avoided it like the plague.