8938 Book(s) Related to and then there were four by lilith carrie

I thought I was marrying the New York Godfather out of love. I didn't know I was just a walking blood bank for his fake 'savior'—my illegitimate half-sister.

My father, my brother, my husband... they bled me dry, framed me, and even demanded my unborn baby's cord blood to keep a murderer alive.

When I finally learned the truth, I didn't cry. I didn't scream.
I simply locked the doors, scheduled the emails that would shatter their reality, and left them a charred corpse in a towering sea of fire.

They thought they watched me burn. I let them descent into absolute madness.

My roommate provoked a demon, dragging me into a deadly hunt. Eerie mirror visions and ominous warnings kept coming. Just as I was on the verge of breaking, I discovered my roommate was hiding a shocking secret—and my being hunted was never an accident.

"You sure dispatch called this... natural causes?" I gripped the steering wheel, staring at the perfect suburban house.
"That's what they said," Gates muttered. The victim's father, Arthur, stood at the door in pressed khakis, weeping.
He swore his daughter, Grace, died in her sleep last night after eating vanilla pudding.
But the moment we stepped inside, a suffocating cocktail of cheap lavender spray and rotting meat punched me in the sinuses.
In the living room, SpongeBob SquarePants was blasting at maximum volume. Grace was slumped in a recliner. When Gates gently pinched her wrist to lift her arm, a sickeningly soft, tearing rip echoed in the room.
Her grayish skin completely degloved, fused to the leather armrest. Beneath the liquefied muscle tissue, frantic rows of tiny white maggots wriggled into the exposed bone.
A body that died "last night" doesn't breed maggots.

"Whoever left that wild strawberry scent on my bed is dead," the severely germaphobic captain posted.
I froze. It was me.
Now, my idiot brother just locked me in Ronan's room to pay off a debt. Ronan ignored my boyish disguise. Leaning in, his nose brushed my hood.
"Wild strawberry," he whispered, a dangerous smirk forming. "It WAS you."

My husband suffered a massive heart attack mid-thrust inside my best friend.

Now, the ER doctors are clutching his surgical consent forms, waiting for me—the legal wife—to sign.

Over the phone, my mother-in-law shrieked in absolute despair while my best friend sobbed in terror.

I turned a deaf ear to them, taking my time to admire my makeup in the mirror.

There was absolutely no rush. Waiting until I changed into this pitch-black mourning dress to slowly watch his countdown to death wouldn't be too late.

After all, when my parents and my son, Noah, were lying in the morgue, I survived a dead-silent night exactly like this one, shedding tears until my eyes literally bled dry.

Now, it is finally my husband's turn to go to hell and atone for my family.

I am just a simple florist making an honest living. Yet, somehow, the city's untouchable elites keep suffering horrific, freak accidents right after someone buys my flowers. The police know I'm involved, but they can't prove a thing. After all, how much damage can a few blooming petals really do?

When I had a car accident, my mate, Alpha Ethan from the Blackridge Pack, was at the airport.
Even though I was nearly unconscious due to the violent impact on my head and managed to find my phone to call him in the devastated accident scene, he hurriedly said to me to call the police myself and hung up.
He couldn't wait to rush to the airport to meet the destined mate Ava, who was said to have a terminal illness and wanted to return to see him before her death.
The day I discharged happened to be the day for taking wedding photos.
I went straight to the wedding dress store, watching her wearing the wedding dress and jewelry that I personally designed, holding my mate Alpha Ethan's hand.
I calmly said, "Please go to the front desk to settle the design fee."
Without arguing or making a fuss, I turned around and went to the hospital for an abortion surgery.
I decided to give up on him and return to my pack, going abroad to participate in the Pack Leader Training.
As he wished, he and his

In my past life, I threw myself in front of the black panther alpha when his rut drove him into a frenzy—only to have him toss me into a pack of beasts and watch me get torn to pieces.
After being reborn, the first thing I did was rip off the royal crest pinned to my chest and swallow a suppressant, cutting off his control over me for good.
Everyone waited for me to come crawling back and beg for peace.
Instead, I turned and walked straight into the frozen Northlands, where the death rate was eighty percent.
There, through a severed arm, a ruined face, and the thin line between life and death, I awakened as the Platinum Lion King.
He dropped to his knees in the snow, crying and begging for forgiveness.
I only had one question for him: "What makes you think you're anything to me?"

The day manager Gregg shoved me into the freight elevator shaft, the nuclear winter outside had only just begun. As he slammed the gate shut, he said, "No one will find you dead down there; the insurance payout is enough to cover the shortfall." I died in the darkness at thirty degrees below zero. Then, I woke up. I was back on the afternoon he threw the contract in my face. This time, I didn't sign. I shoved the contract into the paper shredder, snatched the brass key ring from Supervisor Miller, locked every exit of the warehouse, and re-routed the entire building's heating system into my own command bunker. As Gregg licked ice off the frozen floor on the security monitor, I was sitting in the guard room, heating up a can of pork. Outside, the first snowflake fell. And this time, the ones who would be freezing to death were them.

My life had been a nightmare until one accident changed everything.
One moment, I was the girl Ethan Blake rejected without a second glance.
The next, I woke up inside his body.
Ethan Blake.
Captain of the hockey team. King of the campus. The same guy who told me to stop wasting everyone's time and just die.
Now I wore his face, carried his name, and lived his life.
And I remembered every cruel thing he had done to me.
So I started returning the favor.
I smiled in front of his friends while tearing apart his perfect reputation piece by piece. I turned his world upside down while everyone still believed I was him.
But Ethan wasn't gone.
And he wasn't willing to stay silent.
The more I took from him, the more desperate he became to reclaim his body.
Even if it meant coming back to me—
On his knees.
Begging.

A red dragon heir locked me in an iron shed and scorched me with his breath for ten minutes straight.Didn't kill me.He woke a Black Dragon buried under a three-hundred-year curse.The Tri-Dragon Council tore down my home, beat my father, threw me in jail, and live-streamed it all so the whole city could laugh.What they didn't know: every ancestor's soul in the Black Dragon cemetery had fused into me.I smashed through the Council's dome and slammed the dissolution order onto the table.

Before the apocalypse hit, my ex-girlfriend called me, laughing like a maniac: "Jack, you pathetic loser—still playing that stupid farming game? Gonna whack zombies with a hoe? Open the door right now, get on your knees, and beg us, and maybe we'll throw you some table scraps."
I listened to the faint scrape of a tactical knife being drawn on the other end of the line, and silently glanced at my computer screen—at the maxed-out Greenfield Manor game, with its gold cap glowing at [999,999,999] .
"You misheard." I dropped my voice, lacing it with just the right amount of embarrassment. "I was checking the weather forecast."
The other end erupted in unrestrained laughter: "Then forecast this—how you're gonna die today!"
I hung up without changing my expression, flipped open the system, and spent a million on the [Absolute Defense Shield] —then brought out a steaming plate of roasted meat.
Forecast?
I forecast that tonight, you'll be gnawed down to bare bones by zombies.

I once believed that if I was obedient enough, my birth family would finally love me. Instead, they gave everything to Anna, the fake heiress—my competition spot, my reputation, even my kidney.
Then I opened my eyes and returned to the year it all began.
This time, I won’t beg. I won’t yield. My achievements, my dignity, and my life belong to me.
When everyone called me vicious, Damian Sterling draped his jacket over my shoulders and asked in a low voice, “Am I an outsider?”
I leaned into him and smiled. “Of course not.”
But soon I discovered he was being slowly poisoned—and the culprit might be someone closest to him. Worse, the truth behind my death in my previous life may be darker than I ever imagined…

1

What could King Ikyn, the Taker of Life, the Dragon King himself, possibly want with Princess Eira? Is she just his bride or is she something more?


Glowing red eyes sit low within Ikyn's scaled, angular skull, giving him a rather intimidating look; nearly perfectly matching his human body. Several small gold horns sit atop his head, just above his thick, curved ears. Small fan-like skin and bone structures runs down each side of his jaw. His nose is long and has two tiny, warped nostrils and small onyx growths on his chin. Several rows of sharp teeth poke out from the side of his mouth.
'Is he... Smirking? At me?' Eira admires his long neck and studies his massive body. His skin is covered in wide, shining black scales. A row of onyx protrusions run down his spine. His belly is covered in shimmering gold skin, matching his horns and thorny claws. His monstrous bat-like wings grow slowly from his shoulders. A thin layer of gold skin is all that's visible inside and long onyx growths extend from many parts of the bottom sides of each wing.
Eira is too entranced to notice Ikyn sneak his tail around her small frame. She touches the thick, wide, shining black scales, finding it smooth and surprisingly cold. She flinches when she realizes the sharp gold tip of his tail is playfully sliding across her neck.

Three torturous years hauling bodies on the mortuary night shift, and I'd finally scraped together the cash for my brother Charles's heart transplant.
He just waved it off.
"My heart is fine. Mom and Dad didn't die in that gang war, either. I orchestrated the hit. You were the only casualty."
Nearby, my husband, Gerald, casually lit a cigar to deliver his own confession. "I never went bankrupt. 'Laying low' was just my excuse to avoid squeezing into that dingy funeral home dorm with you. I've been at the Long Island estate."
"I was going to punish you for another three years," Charles added, "but the stench of formaldehyde on you is nauseating. We couldn't take it anymore."
I froze, still clutching the credit card. Charles plucked the plastic from my numb fingers and shoved his phone screen in my face. A banking app stared back at me.
Balance: exactly zero.
"My name is still on the joint account," he sneered, tossing the card into the trash. "I drained it this morning. That blood money you made bagging stiffs is being handed out to street junkies as we speak. We'd never touch that filth."
Before the sheer absurdity of it could suffocate me, my parents walked in. Flanked by bodyguards, they kept their distance, eyeing me like a plague rat.
"You thought being the biological daughter gave you the right to ruthlessly bully Violet. We simply wanted to put you in your place."
"Swear you'll never cross Violet again, and you can remain a Falcone," my mother added coolly. "Otherwise, you're dead to us."
In the stifling silence that followed, my phone buzzed. A text from my oncologist.
[Mrs. Castello, the results are back. It's terminal. Do you consent to initiating the hospice and DNR protocols we discussed?]

I used to be the most envied female on the continent. Three mates: werewolf Alpha Kael, vampire lord Dorian, elven ranger Seth. All of them mine.
Then a half-elf drifter named Ayla showed up, and everything I had started belonging to her instead, one piece at a time.
Kael once pulled a fang from his own mouth to make me a necklace. The day it broke, he was too busy licking another female's cut finger to notice.
Dorian spent two weeks brewing me blood wine. Then he handed the cup straight to her, because apparently I "looked healthy enough to go without."
Seth carved me a charm from sacred elven wood. I watched her face take shape under his knife instead of mine.
They kept telling me I needed to grow up. So when a beast's poison was spreading through my body, and I blew the whistle they swore would bring them running no matter what—
No one came.
Three years later, I walked back into their world on a Siren prince's arm.
This time, they're the ones begging for my forgiveness.

I was dead, and the whole world was celebrating for my sister.

For twenty-two years, I had been the hardest-working but most invisible daughter in the Sterling family, forever living in the shadow of my gymnastics prodigy sister.

Running a high fever, I begged my family to take me to the hospital, only to hear: "Don't you DARE ruin Bella's award ceremony!"

When I was tricked into the abandoned equipment room and used my last breath to call my boyfriend while lying in a pool of blood, all I heard was: "Grace, quit the drama! Bella's accepting her award on stage!"

On stage, thunderous applause erupted as Bella lifted the "Young Gymnast of the Year" trophy.

And I drew my final breath.

When they returned home triumphant, thinking I had run away in a tantrum, they had no idea I was already dead right under their noses.

There are no unmated males in our pack.
Every she-wolf in Hollowfen is promised to someone when she turns eighteen. We just don't get to know who until we walk into the Choosing Hall.
Girls go in wearing white. They come out flushed, shaking, barely able to stand. Some laugh. Some cry. None of them talk about what happens inside.
My sister Thessaly turned eighteen this spring. Gran told her she couldn't attend the Choosing.
She went anyway. She came back on shaking legs, with blood between her thighs and a smile she couldn't wipe off her face.

They left me to freeze to death in our basement freezer.

The night before prom, my foster sister Leila came crying that I'd burned her Ivy League recommendation letter. My birth parents didn't even listen to one word of explanation—they threw me into that frozen hell in forty-five below.

I beat on that door until my fingers were shredded, screamed until my throat tore apart, but all I could hear from upstairs was their laughter celebrating Leila. Even Justin—the boy I'd loved since we were kids—texted calling me a fucking psycho.

As I drew my last breath, I heard Leila's soft voice outside the door: "Rest in peace, sister."

Now I'm a ghost, watching them lose their minds when the truth comes out.

His voice, low and gruff broke my thoughts of obsession, "Use me."

It was like a bucket of cold water was thrown on my chest. I turned to him with a scoff full of disbelief. I wanted laugh and throw my hands in the air to show him that I understood what he said was a joke.

But the darkness in his eyes and the heaviness of his brow told me different. He was serious. He tilted his head, his eyes flickering to my lips for a moment before returning to my eyes.

"Use you?"

He shrugged, his eyes landing on my lips again, "I can keep him from bothering you."

"Like a bodyguard?" My stomach was twisting inside me, a ball of nerves making me feel light.

His shoulders shook as he chuckled, lifting his eyes to mine, "You know that's not what I mean."


Kian has been in love with Inesa since he first saw her, but she only had eyes for someone else. After a difficult year facing death, deception, and hate, he returned to school only to be trapped in her gaze again.

Inesa had no idea of Kian’s existence, happily dating Micah. It wasn’t until after he shattered her heart into a thousand pieces that she noticed the forest green eyes that watched her from afar.

Will Kian let himself capture her heart, or will his past keep him from her? Will Inesa let him capture her heart, or will she hide from him, too afraid of her own feelings?

In a world where female werewolves are prizes to be hunted, one Alpha's daughter refuses to be caught.

Eighteen-year-old Lena Blackwood has always been different—preferring books to forests, independence to tradition. Now, as the annual werewolf hunting party approaches, she faces the barbaric ritual that haunts every unmated female: becoming prey for males eager to claim her with their bite.

As the daughter of a powerful Alpha, Lena is the ultimate trophy. One mark on her neck could force her into a lifetime of submission to a stranger, tearing her away from everything she's ever known. With no say in who becomes her mate, Lena must risk everything to maintain control over her own destiny.

But when the mysterious and feared Kieran Stone—the youngest Alpha in generations with a reputation for brutality—makes a surprise appearance at the hunting party, the stakes become deadlier than ever. Caught between ancient werewolf traditions and her desperate fight for freedom, Lena discovers unexpected allies and enemies lurking in the shadows.

In a society where females are expected to submit and males are entitled to claim, Lena must find the strength to rewrite the rules—or become another victim of a tradition soaked in blood.

Some traditions aren't meant to be followed. Some bonds can't be broken. And some hunts turn the prey into the predator.

The day he proposed, Atticus knelt before me, holding the Hale family's heirloom necklace.
I thought I had finally survived the ordeal.
After eight years of unrequited love, being humiliated by his sister, nitpicked by his mother, and mocked by the city's socialites for being unworthy of the Hales... Until this very moment, when he personally fastened the heirloom around my neck. Everyone saw it. I, Clara, was finally accepted by the Hale family.
Tears in my eyes, I said yes, thinking it was the happiest moment of my life.
But just days after putting on that necklace, bizarre red rashes crawled up my neck. My pale skin rotted away piece by piece, and my internal organs went into irreversible failure.
The most absurd part? The exact same day I started rotting, his dying mother miraculously cured her terminal illness, and his sister's half-destroyed face was restored to flawless perfection.
Disfigured and barely looking human, I threw myself off the Harbour Bridge—
I opened my eyes, and I was back on the day of the proposal.

In a sleek design world split between polished appearances and buried cruelty, Mara Ellison has spent years trapped behind a voice no one wanted to hear. While her family rewrites her illness and her fiancé speaks over her in the name of love, stolen records, public humiliation, and old betrayals force her to reclaim her life. Quiet but cutting, this is a story of emotional abuse, identity theft, and hard-won selfhood—framed by rain-soaked streets, hospital corridors, cold glass conference rooms, and a woman finally stepping into the light with her own voice.

The day college decisions came out, my parents bought my twin sister a Porsche.
It was my eighteenth birthday too. Nobody brought it up. I stood in the doorway in my diner uniform while the whole room sang her name.
That night the four of them went out to dinner to celebrate her. The car only sat four, so my father handed me a hundred dollars and told me to order myself something at home.
Four days later, six thousand four hundred dollars vanished from my account. Two years of washing dishes, gone to her sorority dues. My mother's name was on the account, so it wasn't even illegal.
I didn't scream and I didn't beg. I went upstairs and clicked Accept on the full ride to MIT that had been sitting in my inbox for three days.
Nobody in that house ever wanted me. So I booked a one-way ticket, cut myself out of the family photo, and left my key on the shoe rack.
I wasn't coming back. Not for graduation. Not for any of them.

A horrific car crash left me paralyzed.
The doctors said I'd never walk again. With no family left, my Aunt Martha and Uncle Thomas took me to their isolated farmhouse.
They cared for me, promising their treatments would help me walk again. After everything I'd been through, I thought I'd finally found safety.
Until today, when the feeling in my legs suddenly came back—but something told me not to tell them.

Six months ago, my parents started fostering a girl named Lila Mercer.
Six months ago, Mom repainted the guest room and strung fairy lights over the bed. My room still has the same furniture I've had since I was twelve.
Six months ago, Dad started coming home for Sunday dinner. Not for me. I'd been eating alone at the counter for years by then.
Six months ago, Mom posted a photo of the two of them at the farmers market. Caption: our family is growing. I saw it during third period and locked my phone hard enough to crack the case.
So when I picked up the family iPad tonight and a notification popped up from an app I didn't recognize, I wasn't shocked. Just tired of being right.
The app was called Beacon.

“Dad… please… help me…” I pleaded, my shattered ribs piercing my lungs, blood soaking the stretcher.
But Richard, the hospital's top surgeon and my biological father, didn't even glance at me. Instead, he rushed to the next bed.
“Don't be afraid, Chloe. I'm here,” he cooed to his stepdaughter, who merely had a tiny scratch on her arm. “Get the best equipment over here now!” he roared.
As the heart monitor flatlined and my soul left my broken body, I realized the chilling truth: in the choice between life and death, my father gladly let me die.

My stepsister and I tumbled down the stairs together. As someone with a blood clotting disorder, my spleen ruptured—I was bleeding internally, desperate for surgery to stop it.
But my mother—the renowned chief of surgery—pulled every specialist from the ER. To consult on my stepsister's condition.
All she had was a sprained ankle. Not even a scratch. Yet mom insisted on running every test in the book. And me? Left alone on that cold floor, bleeding out, half my body already soaked in blood.
I clutched at her pants, begging her to save me. But she kicked my hand away and looked at me with pure disgust.
"Lily, are you really so desperate for a man's attention that you'd pull a cheap stunt like this? Your sister's foot is swollen—and you have the nerve to fake your death here?"
In the end, I died alone in a corner of that ignored ER.
But when they wheeled my cold body out of the morgue—and they finally learned about my clotting disorder—
That mother who claimed to hate me completely lost her mind.

It was my second year back in this house.
My name was Evelyn, the biological daughter who got lost in Central Park at seven.
During the ten years I stayed missing, I fed pigs on a remote farm in Eastern Europe. In weather that dropped to dozens below zero, I got beaten for working too slowly.
I did not get brought back until I was seventeen, covered in scars, returned to this so-called “home,” luxurious to the point of being blinding.
To be honest, every time I watched them sit on silk sofas and sip afternoon tea, then thought about the decade I spent crawling through hell, hatred made my teeth ache.
That hatred stood between us and made the house feel like an icebox. We lived under the same roof, yet we were not even as close as strangers.

My parents and twin sister faked their own deaths so she could steal my college acceptance.

I believed it. Sobbed until I couldn't breathe when the cops showed me photos of the burnt yacht. Thought my words—"I hope you all die"—had somehow made it happen.

Two weeks later, I found my sister's backup Instagram: "Finally ditched the boring sister! Bahamas is paradise 🏖"

Something inside me snapped.

Wanna play dead? Stay dead.

I took their death certificates. Canceled their social security numbers. Drained every joint account—every last cent. Sold the house to John, the kind of guy even cops don't mess with.

One month later, they came home tanned and loaded with designer bags, expecting to find me broken on the streets.

What greeted them instead were cold gun barrels pointed at their heads.

My husband, Marco, in his bid for the position of Don, was forced to marry the young widow of the previous Don, Claudia.
Every night, after returning from Claudia’s place, he would hold me and swear, "You’re the only woman I love, Elena. Claudia has the connections I need. Once I have real power and secure my position, I’ll make you my wife in name and in public."
But as I waited for him to rise to power, what started as a political act turned into nights where he simply never came home.
Then, on Christmas, I was dragged to their engagement party—where I was beaten in front of everyone.
Our six-year-old daughter, Sophia, knelt on the floor, crying and begging him, "Godfather, please, let my mommy go..."
But Marco stayed silent.
"It’s okay," I whispered, picking up my wounded daughter. "Mommy’s going to take you somewhere that truly belongs to us."
What Marco never knew was this: I never cared about being the Donna of this small city.
I am the only heir of the Rossi family—the most powerful Mafia family in all of Sicily.

Victoria discovered that I hadn't submitted any supplemental medical expense claims for two weeks.
She assumed I had finally been disciplined and had given up what she called "the exploitative nature of the lower class."
Little did she know, my backpack held the signed divorce papers and my mother's death certificate.
As I turned to leave, I was still wearing the discounted trench coat she'd casually given me three years ago when we got married.
What she didn't know was that I, a deep-sea geology genius from MIT, willingly endured three years of her humiliation and ridiculous rules, just so my mother could stay in her conglomerate's private hospital to prolong her life.
Now, my mother has died because of unpaid bills , and even her ashes are carried by me in a cheap canvas bag.
Now that my loved one is dead, there's no need for me to continue being her obstructive dog on Wall Street. The lives she owed with those approval forms, I will settle with the collapse of her entire conglomerate empire.

He kisses me for a long time, long enough that it’s me that pulls away and desperately grabs onto his cock. Without words between us, he grabs my legs, lifting me up against the tiled wall and spreads my legs.
He’s angry from the conversation last night. I can feel it, I can see it in his dark eyes. It’s only confirmed when he slams into me without preparing me.
I cry out and he soothes me with kisses on my neck and nibbles on my skin. Still he doesn’t slow down. He starts at a quick pace, at a strength that already has my legs trembling.
I grab onto his shoulders, cries leaving my lips every time he slams into me. It turn wet, not from the water, but from how much he makes my pussy happy.


Alina leaves everything she knows behind after she is in a terrible car accident that tears her family apart. A new home, a new school and a fractured relationship with her mother are only the beginning of the things this change will throw her way. Immediately she catches the attention of three men, and she can’t deny what she feels for them, too. Quickly, and much to her demise, she finds out that their lives are much more intertwined than she would have ever hoped for. She had hoped to discover herself in this new place, but everything only tears her apart. Who will she choose between Zaid, the bad boy, Aiden, her sweet jock, and Jake, and older man who can't seem to keep his hands off of her?

His large hands wrapped around her thighs and she squealed when he parted them, opening her for him.

“Eksel,” She whispered, trying to cover herself with her hand.

“Stop.” Eksel’s nostrils flared as he focused on the dark pink flesh between her legs.

Elva bit down in her lips, forcing herself to let him see. To let him satiate the hunger that soured her stomach.

His gentle eyes flickered up to her face. “Do you know how perfect you are?”


Left with little choice, Earl Arrion agrees to marry his daughter to Jarl Agnar in order to stop the attacks on his village.

On the day she is meant to meet her future husband, Elva is faced with his brother, Eksel. What happens when Elva unknowingly falls for the wrong brother?

Eksel knows that Elva is not for him, that she is out of his reach, but that does little to stop him from falling for her as well.

My wife is upstairs with another man—her first love.
But I don't want to fight about it.
I'm not staying here because of her.
Her father once saved my father's life. I'm here to repay that debt.
So they pushed even further.
She wants me to give way to her first love.
Give up my seat at dinner, my trust fund eligibility, my position as family consigliere, even our couple's travel tickets.
Fine. Have it your way.
I'm leaving to go back to being the Don I was meant to be.
Hope your family can survive the mafia wars without me.

Reborn seven days before the zombie siege, Shen Lie returns to the day he was tricked into a deadly dark web live stream. Betrayed by his wife and trapped as prey for global wealthy viewers, he uses his stunt skills to layout a counter-kill plan, turning every hunter into the hunted and exposing the bloody evil behind the apocalypse game.

A torrential downpour of strong acid flooded the city, and mutated sea monsters slaughtered buildings. When Chloe, along with burly men from the rugby team, wielding fire axes, frantically smashed down the door, attempting to burn me alive and steal my bottled water, I had already welded the security door firmly into the load-bearing wall.
Faced with the pried-open door, I didn't waste any words and directly used a 20,000-volt electric spear to pierce the strong man's thigh! Then, I coldly pushed the blood-soaked floor outside.
The pungent smell of blood instantly attracted the skeletal behemoths from the water, turning the corridor into a horrific slaughterhouse. I listened coldly to their desperate screams in front of the monitor.
In this desolate wasteland, you think you can survive by stepping on me? Then feed the monsters with your flesh and blood !

I have everything in my life all figured out. My job in a Manhattan empire is perfect, allowing me to maintain a quiet and organized existence. After a childhood filled with painful memories, abuse, and a useless mother, this sense of security is a necessity for me. But along with it comes a problem that could disrupt everything I thought I needed.

My promotion places me in close proximity to Jacob Carrero, a young, incredibly attractive, and playboy billionaire with a notorious reputation. I now find myself stuck as his right-hand man, spending every waking moment with him. It doesn't take long for me to realize that he's exactly the type of person who could drive me crazy, and not in a good way. We're like chalk and cheese. He's impulsive, confident, laid-back, dominant, and enjoys casual sex and dating without much thought. I, on the other hand, am compulsive, reserved, and cautious.

Despite his carefree attitude, Jacob is the only one who can break through my composed exterior. He's not phased by my closed-off demeanor and cool manners. But as much as I may want to, letting him into my heart is another thing entirely. My painful past has made me wary of men, and I have no desire to let anyone get close enough to hurt me again.

However, Jacob Carrero is not someone who takes no for an answer. He wants to be more than just another person seeing my façade, who is learning how to break through my defenses.

What should I do?

Being a lone wolf, Zezi decided to chose a mate for herself. She ended up with the Beta of her pack and they had a daughter. They were living happily until an Empire of Vampires who were believed to have been wiped out resurfaced and started attacking the werewolves massively.

Her Alpha, the King of all werewolves in Teeland, decided to fight them back but soon realized that the vampires couldn't be defeated. Left with no other choice, he decided to sign their King's Submission Deal.

Everything was going according to plan until, Zezi found herself sharing a reckless gaze with the Vampire King - The very King of Darkness.

-WARNING-This story may contain content that some may find disturbing.

“If you can’t satisfy me with your mouth, then you’ll have to satisfy me some other way.”

He ripped off her flimsy clothing and tossed the shredded fabric aside. Visenya panicked as she realized exactly what he was implying.

“Let me try again…with my mouth. I think I c...”

“Quiet!” His voice echoed off the walls of his bedchamber, silencing her on the spot.

This wasn’t the way she had imagined her first time would be. She pictured passionate kisses and gentle caresses from a man who loved and cherished her. Lucian wouldn’t be loving, and he certainly didn’t cherish her either. She had been cursed with a mate who was bent on revenge, wanting nothing more than to watch her suffer.


Ten years had passed since Dragons ruled over the world…since Visenya took her place as Lycan Queen. Vampires were forced into the shadows now that hunting and enslaving humans was punishable by death. The world was finally at peace…until Dragon Lord, Lucian woke from his induced sleep to discover that his entire race had been massacred by Visenya’s father. Visenya is stripped of her kingdom and forced to live out the rest of her days as Lucian’s slave. The cruelest joke of all is, Visenya learns that the mate she has been so faithfully waiting for all these years, is none other than the vengeful Dragon Lord himself.

Consumed by their hatred for each other, is it enough to fight the intense mate bond between them? Will Lucian push Visenya to her absolute limit, just to regret it all in the end?

After being betrayed by my boyfriend, I immediately turned to his friend, a handsome and wealthy CEO, and slept with him.
I initially thought it was just an impulsive one-night stand, but I never expected that this CEO had been infatuated with me for a long time.
He had approached my boyfriend solely because of me...

"If I ever have to get married to anyone, I swear on my life that it would not be you!" His index finger almost pushed into me as he pointed them at me and his eyes burned with the rage of hatred and anger.

"And let me make this clear to you Taylor, if—if at all you have your way with me being your husband...your mate," he corrected.

"I'd make sure I will be with other she-wolves and make sure you feel every pain of betrayal; I'll see to it that you feel how I felt when you killed my Odette," he said, walking closer to me. The back of my throat stung with tears that were already brimming.


Odette has always been the apple of everyone's eyes, even after her death. Meanwhile, Taylor was always overlooked, and hated by everyone. Everyone wished for her death --- including her parents, and Killian, her mate. She never had been loved by anyone, always in her sister's shadow but everything changed after her sister's death. Instead of being simply ignored, she was the object of hate, and to be bullied.

Taylor still bore all the guilt, even though she was the one chosen by the Moon Goddess, until she realised, Killian, who always thought Odette as his future Luna to be his mate turned out to be mated to her! Unable to bear the thought that the mate she always wished for to turn out to be the man, who always hated and taunted her, and even mistaking her for Odette, she was at the breaking point!

Determined, she forced Killian to accept her rejection. But what will happen when Killian realises the truth behind the plot, and instantly regrets it? Will he chase her back? Will Taylor forgive and accept him, or will she never forgive, and be with the man she's destined to be with?

I lived as the Smiths’ daughter for seventeen years, only to find out one day that I was never really one of them—a fake heiress from the start. I didn’t hesitate. I cut all ties with the Smith family and returned to the struggling Johnsons. I didn’t even bother to pack—just took my phone and left.
People said I was in for a rough time. After all, I’d never gotten along with the Smith brothers, and now that I’d lost everything, they thought things could only get worse.
But what they didn’t know was this: the world-famous designer is my friend, the legendary doctor is my mentor, and the CEO of a major company is my childhood friend.
As for me, I’m a hit composer, a mysterious sculptor, and a young entrepreneur.
My classmates say I’m neither Ms. Smith nor Ms. Johnson—I belong to myself.
But my childhood friend just laughs and says, “She belongs to me, too.”

She was Claire Summer, fearsome and ruthless, the organization's deadliest sword.

Whether dead or alive, the mere mention of her name sent chills down one's spine.

Until she was framed by someone she trusted, labeled a traitor, and ultimately executed by electric chair.

In this life, she awakens to find herself in the body of Ariana Stevens, an ordinary girl who has suffered bullying, looking exactly like her except for a strange, centipede-like scar on her face.

Claire Summer begins to piece together the truth behind the betrayal that destroyed her world.

However, she encounters Jasper Hart, the cold and mysterious heir of the Hart family. His gaze makes her uneasy and blush.

Yet, when the call of revenge sounds, she must make a choice.

For three years, she was his devoted wife in the shadows and his flawless secretary in the light. She gave him everything—until she miscarried their child alone and discovered their marriage was a legal lie. Now, his scheming mistress has returned, taking her job, her reputation, and his cold-hearted loyalty.

Publicly humiliated, betrayed, and left with nothing, she realizes love was her greatest weakness. But a shattered woman can become the most dangerous warrior. With nothing left to lose, she begins her final, calculated move. As she walks away forever, she holds the power to burn his perfect world to the ground.

Will her silence be her revenge, or will his belated regret become his final punishment?