When Did Dan And Phil Meet Novels & Stories

“I, Riccardo Saviano, future Alpha of the Grey Shadow Moon Pack, reject you, Artemisia Guerrieri, Daughter of Alpha Franco of the Blood Moon Pack, as my mate and future Luna.” One single sentence. One stupid single sentence was all it took to disintegrate my life. And the day of my birthday, on which this sentence was audaciously uttered to me, I lost the love of my life, my future mate, and my wolf, all at once. As I’m still assembling the pieces of my shattered heart years later, there they come. Like lightning out of a crystal blue sky. My Mates. But wait… If I am mated to triplets, how come I’m about to be mated to 5 gorgeous men? *** TW: explicit and foul language; spicy content; explicit sex scenes *** Book 1 : When They Touch Me - Completed Book 2 : Their Burning Touch on my Skin (Sequel) - Ongoing

What happens when we are stuck in our past, unable to move forward with our lives. Veronica was kidnapped and raped when she was eighteen, the culprit was not caught. She moved out of town, and never came back because of it, leaving her family behind. Ten years after the incident, she's still being plagued with nightmares and fears intimacy to the point of hyperventilating. They prevent her from having a normal life. Her best friends decide to engage the help of a psychologist to help her move on. In comes Dr Hunter Fisher, a man with a past of his own, who challenges her and brings out a side in her she never thought she'd experience. In the bliss of having found love together, they try to move on from their past together. But the enemy is out there and peace can never be found unless he is caught; only then can they be happy.

My mate, Andrew Claude, is the Alpha of the Celestial Pack, the sworn rival of my father’s Venus Pack. For three years, we have hidden our bond, knowing that our union could either bring peace between the packs or ignite war. On Lunar Year's Eve, beneath the full moon’s silver glow, we stand on the castle terrace, whispering promises of our future. Tonight, we finally agree to perform our bonding ritual, sealing our fates before revealing our love to our parents. My wolf stirs in anticipation, her instincts urging me toward him. But then, Andrew leaps down into the grand fire-dance festival, his powerful wolf form shifting mid-air before landing in a flourish. The scent of burning pine and roasted venison fills the air, warriors howling in celebration. The pack’s bonfire crackles with enchanted flames, casting shadows of prowling wolves against the towering stone walls. I watch from above, heart pounding with joy—until my smile fades. In the heart of the revelry, Carol Sinclair, an Omega maid, clutches a bundle of enchanted fireworks. Andrew strides to her, a warm, easy grin on his face. With a flick of his fingers, golden flames dance from his palms, sparking the firework in her hands. "A little fire magic to help you, Carol," he chuckles. She gasps in admiration, giggling as the firework ignites—only for it to spiral out of control. It veers wildly, the enchanted embers lashing through the air. Searing pain blooms across my arm. The stench of burning flesh fills my nose. I barely react before Carol bursts into tears and flees into the crowd. Before I can speak, Andrew turns on me, his golden eyes flashing with rage. The onlookers fall silent, ears twitching to catch their Alpha’s words. “Did you bully her, Bella?” His growl rumbles deep in his chest. “Just because you’re an Alpha’s heir doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want!” The warriors glance at each other, their tails stiff with tension. I stagger back, stunned. He doesn’t even ask if I’m hurt.

My sister had struggled with depression since childhood. The doctor warned that she could not tolerate any kind of stimulation. As a result, my entire life fell silent. To avoid upsetting her, I never dared to laugh at home. I never dared to cry. When I got hurt, I did not even have the right to say it hurt. My parents would hug me with apologetic expressions and say, "You're the good one. Your sister's illness requires the whole family to work together. You're healthy. You're strong. Let her have more, okay?" One day, I accidentally knocked over a cup. The crash sounded enormous in the quiet room, and my sister's emotions shattered at once. My father struck me for the first time. He roared, "Can't you be careful? Do you have to push her until she dies before you're satisfied?" He shoved me to the floor. The back of my head slammed against the corner of the table, and blood poured out. But my whole family rushed to my screaming sister. No one even glanced at me. I lay on the cold floor as my vision blurred and my consciousness began to fade. To them, my sister's feelings were the only emergency. My small injury could wait. They did not know that bleeding inside the skull does not wait.

Ophelia Martins was once the girl everyone wanted to be—charming, magnetic, untouchable. But when betrayal rips through her inner circle and the ones she trusted most reveal their darkest sides, her world shatters. From best friends turned enemies to ex-lovers hiding cruel secrets, Lia is left to rebuild her life from the ruins of public humiliation and heartbreak. As she struggles to find her footing, Tyler Reed, her childhood friend with a mysterious past, steps in. But Tyler’s return isn't just timely… it's calculated. Beneath his easy smile lies a vendetta years in the making, and Lia might be the one piece in a revenge game she doesn’t even know she’s playing. Secrets run deep in Crestwood High. Everyone has something to lose. Everyone has something to hide. And just when Lia thinks she’s taking back control, a buried truth about her identity threatens to unravel everything. Love. Lies. Legacy. In a world where betrayal feels like love and revenge wears a charming face, can Lia survive the truth long enough to reclaim her own story?

Five years ago, Tiffanye Rebel and her mate, Quinton McKnight, made a choice that shattered their bond—they rejected one another. Unable to endure the heartbreak, Tiffanye left her pack behind, vowing never to return. But time has a way of pulling the past back into focus. Now, after five long years, Tiffanye finds herself back in the very place that once brought her nothing but pain and misery. With every passing day, the memories she tried to bury begin to resurface, sharper and more haunting than ever. The truth she once fled from is no longer hidden—secrets are unraveling, and the lies and betrayal run deeper than she ever imagined. Faced with everything she tried to escape, Tiffanye must confront the past she left behind. Will she find the strength to heal and move forward, or will the weight of betrayal finally break her?

The night before our wedding, my fiancée let her so-called "best friend" butcher the gown my late mother had sewn, chopping it into a revealing mini dress. I rushed over with the ruined dress in my arms, ready to demand answers: only to catch their voices through the door: "Imagine him expecting me to wear something a dead woman stitched. What a curse!" Through the narrow gap, I saw my distant, frigid fiancée flushed with color, straddling his lap. "What we did at the bridal shop wasn't enough," she murmured. "Tomorrow, walking down the aisle in this tiny dress you made me, it'll be even more exhilarating." Their lips met. My hand froze against the door, and inside, something broke with a soundless crack. If she longed for thrills, I would grant her some.

My sister accompanies me when I go for my premarital medical checkup. When I'm preparing a urine test, I hear embarrassing sounds coming from the cubicle next door. I'm about to leave when I hear the conversation. "Keep it in you, Willow. We're doing this again if it slips out." The voice belongs to my fiancé, Zachary Hilton. The woman to whom he's speaking is Willow Langley, my sister. I dial his number hysterically to see whether it really is him, but my calls go unanswered. All I hear is the incessant ringing of a phone next door and moans alongside it. I'm rooted to the spot, too stunned to do anything. Zachary once vowed to love me for life, yet he's doing something like this with Willow prior to our wedding. The moans and pants next door take a long time to subside. Once I hear them leave, I call home, my face wet with tears. "Mom, change my husband-to-be to Thomas Hilton, Zachary's youngest uncle. I don't want to have anything to do with Zachary anymore."

The temperature starts to drop once we reach the top of the mountain. My two childhood friends, who swore to protect me with their lives, don't even spare me a glance. One is hastily wrapping all his clothes around Lisette Locke, while the other is warming her with his body. I'm so cold that my heart condition acts up; I beg them to save me. However, they're infuriated by this. "How can you still be trying to get our attention at a time like this, Cecilia? Run around for a while if you're cold!" "We'll buy you that white down jacket you wanted when we get back, but you can't take it from Lise now!" The rescue team arrives, and I barely make it out alive. I'm hospitalized for a week, but neither of them come to visit me. I see from my social media that they're busy celebrating Lisette's birthday. We've been friends for over a decade, yet I mean nothing when compared to the driver's daughter. I call my father and say, "Dad, "I'm willing to marry into the Jorgensen family!"

Every Thanksgiving, my husband, Salvatore, brings home a showgirl from one of his clubs. He makes me kneel and serve them drinks. A lesson, he calls it, in how to please a man. This was the eighth Thanksgiving, and this time, he brought back a girl poured into a tight leather dress. "She doesn't have any decent jewelry," Salvatore announced. "Give her your heirloom diamond ring. Your grandmother's pearl earrings, too. And take off that silk choker for her." He smirked. "And listen, she's young, doesn't know the rules. You'll have to show her the ropes. Especially how to handle a man in bed." Every member of the Genovese family was watching, waiting for my humiliation. I didn't disappoint. I opened my mouth and asked Salvatore for a divorce. Salvatore let out a sharp, ugly laugh, his eyes full of contempt. "Francesca, you pull this same shit every time," he jeered. "Your act is pathetic. Even more dramatic than your performance in bed." He leaned in. "You really want to divorce me? Fine. I'll give you five million in cash if you actually walk out that door." The living room erupted in laughter. They all said I was playing hard to get, that I didn't know my place. But they didn't know. This was the 88th time I had asked for a divorce, and it was the first time I truly meant it.