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Evan Hale had spent three years being invisible.

In the port city of Grayhaven, that meant midnight towing calls, grease under his nails, a cheap apartment above a closed pawnshop, and a daughter who still believed the world could be repaired with pancakes and tape. He let people call him broke. He let his ex-wife call him a failure. He let rich men look through him as if poverty had made him harmless.

Then Lily came to the tow yard with a hospital bracelet on her wrist and terror in her eyes.

The paperwork said Evan had lost his rights. The doctors said it was an emergency. The heir to Grayhaven's largest medical charity smiled like the city already belonged to him.

They were all wrong.

Because before Evan became a night-shift tow driver, he had been the man federal teams called when protected witnesses vanished, sealed evidence moved, and dangerous people needed to be found before sunrise. He had buried that life to keep his daughter safe.

Now the people hunting Lily had put her name on a list he recognized.

And Evan Hale was done hiding.

“I don't want to see this angelic face of hers that deceived me and murdered my child, she disgusts me, she is nothing but a worthless, good for nothing, liar. I was so good to her and this is how she repays me? I fucking loved her, I changed who I was for her sake. I put up with her annoying and embarrassing ass but you know what, take her back to Ryan if you must, I'm sure he was so relieved when I took her off his hands but even I regret taking her.”
Camilla composes herself, finding her balance but still a crying mess. “You don't mean that, you're just mad. You love me, remember?” she mummers, her gaze drifting to Santiago. “Tell him he loves me and he's just mad.” she begs, when Santiago doesn't respond, she shakes her head, her gaze falling on Adrian again and he stares at her with disdain. “You said you love me forever.” she whispers.
“No, I fucking hate you right now!” He yelled.
*****
Camilla Mia Burton is a Wolf less seventeen-year-old with insecurities and fear of the unknown. She is a half-human part-werewolf; she's a powerful wolf even though unaware of the power within her and has a beast too a rare gem. Camilla is as sweet as she can be.
However what happens when she meets her mate and he is not what she dreamed about?
He is a cruel cold-hearted eighteen years old Alpha. He is ruthless and in disapproval of Mates he wants nothing to do with her. She endeavors to change his perception of how he sees things, yet he loathes and rejects her pushing her away but the mate bond proves to be strong. What will he do when he regrets rejecting and hating her?

"Good luck to your present Luna," I said bitterly. "And if you haven't found her yet, good luck with that too. I never loved you more than a friend. And today, I'll repeat it: I don't love you. I never did, and I never will—not in a million years. What happened between us is in the past. It was never meant to blossom. Let me go. I don't belong here. Not in this pack. Not ever…"
Before the words could fully escape my lips, a deafening crash rocked the cell. The wall split with a deep dent—his fist buried in the concrete.
Tagon.
He stood there, breathing heavily, knuckles bloodied, eyes shadowed with fury. A low growl rumbled from his throat.
What kind of man had he become?
It was hard not to remember the past. Hard not to recall the good days, when he was the sweetest man I had ever met. I had been foolish then, thinking his affection was real… thinking that my tainted blood could somehow be made pure through his love.
But there were only two times he ever truly lost control: the day we met—when he found me crying—and the day I told him… Never mind.
He clicked his tongue sharply and spoke with chilling finality:
"As long as you live, you'll always be under my dominance. I own you—your life, your blood, your soul. You are mine to command. You are my slave. And that is your fate."

Alpha king’s sex slave is an emotionally engrossing beautiful book, filled with well detailed character description to give readers an exciting perspective of each character in the book. Their flaws, strengths and aggression are easy to feel by readers. You’ll love and unlove the protagonists and fall in love.

Aaron Buckley the city's first trillionaire is met with the biggest devastation of his life losing the love of his life to mysterious death, and suffers years of loneliness, and the trauma of her death. He is compelled to hire a mother for his twin daughters Paige, and Piper. A contract bride, and a contract mother for his daughters.
No intimacy. No shared feelings. No sleeping in his bedroom. They are to act as the perfect couple in public and avoid each other in private and her job was to cater to the kids until the time elapses and she quietly leaves with the money never to be seen or heard from again.
What becomes of this strange situationship, and what happens when old debts emerge?

"Louis, what are you—oh fuck!"

He was thrusting into me while I was still coming, and the sensation was incredible. My body was hypersensitive, every movement sending shockwaves through me.

"Can't stop," he growled against my throat. "Need more."

Holy shit, he's not done. He's actually getting harder.

I couldn't form words anymore. He was fucking me through my orgasm, and I was already building toward another one. My nails dug into his shoulders as he moved with renewed intensity.

"So good," I gasped, my legs wrapping around his waist. "Don't stop, don't fucking stop."

Louis was like a man possessed, his movements becoming more desperate and hungry. When I came again, even harder this time, he followed with a roar.

We collapsed together, both of us breathing hard, my body still trembling from the aftershocks. I felt completely wrung out, like I'd been turned inside out and put back together.


Sloane, a birthmarked outcast from her werewolf pack, saves a dying stranger with no memory. For three months, they find love in their hidden world where her birthmark don't matter. But when black-ops soldiers take him away, she discovers he's far more dangerous than she knew, and she's developing strange powers.

To survive, Sloane assumes a dead woman's identity, living her life and wearing her face. When she finally sees him again, he's changed, no longer the gentle man who called her beautiful. She's changed too, hidden behind another's identity.

Now they're both different people than when they fell in love. Will he recognize the woman who saved him when she's disguised as someone else?

Three years ago, Nora Hart's seventeen-year-old daughter died after a charity party hosted by Hartley's most powerful medical family. The official record called it a voluntary overdose. Nora knew better: her daughter had called for help, the ambulance had been delayed, and someone had rewritten the truth before sunrise.

Now Nora has a new name, a quiet job inside Calder Health Network, and access to the files no grieving mother was ever meant to see. She will not beg the Calders for justice. She will let their own payments, reports, recordings, and betrayals lead them into the open.

But when the first accomplice panics, Nora discovers the cover-up reaches deeper than one spoiled heir. The man who buried her daughter's name is preparing to announce a billion-dollar merger in front of donors, cameras, and politicians.

This time, Nora intends to make sure everyone hears what really happened at the lake.

Mara Vale knew how to save ruined things.

Rotten silk. Smoke-stained lace. Wedding gowns torn by jealous hands or careless lovers. In the old brick shop her mother had left her, Mara could lift a century of dirt from a veil and make every hidden stitch disappear.

But on the night of her own wedding, there was nothing she could save.

Her fiance was in the hotel bridal suite with her stepsister. Her father called her ungrateful when she refused to smile through the betrayal. By midnight, Mara had lost her groom, her family, and the deed to the shop that carried her mother's name.

Then rain drove her into a garage on the wrong side of downtown, where a dangerous young mechanic caught her before she hit the concrete.

Dante Cross smelled like motor oil, wore a dirty white tank under his coveralls, and looked at Mara as if he had been waiting eight years to find her.

Everyone thought he was poor.

Everyone was wrong.

And when Mara's enemies dragged her onto a livestream and called her a thief in front of fifty thousand strangers, the man from the garage stepped between her and the slap meant to break her.

He did not ask permission.

He simply said, "Touch her again, and find out who owns this street."

After the crash, everyone told Mara Ellis to be grateful her husband survived.

Evan Vale came home breathing, walking, smiling when people told him to smile. But the man in her kitchen no longer cared about the tiny rules that had once held his brilliant mind together: the blue mug facing east, the dry workbench, the exact order of every file name. His stepmother called it healing. His half brother called it a second chance.

Mara called it a warning.

When Evan's family moves to take his company, his money, and his legal voice, Mara discovers the real Evan saw the attack coming. He left her a trail hidden inside the ordinary life they built together. To save what remains of him, she will have to stop begging people to believe her and become the one person his enemies forgot to fear.

Not long after I transferred to this school, I became the bullies’ favorite target.
They didn’t like how quiet I was or how pale I looked, so they casually slapped me with a nickname: “vampire.”
It started with shoves in the hallway and jeers in the classroom, escalated to messing with my drink, then stuffing trash into my locker.
They treated my silence as permission and wrapped every provocation in the same excuse: “Just a joke.”
Until that night, when humiliation wasn’t enough. They lured me into a tiny storage room behind the auditorium—locked the door, killed the lights, set up a fixed camera—ready to strap me to a chair and film an “execution” video that would make sure I could never hold my head up at this school again.
What they didn’t know was that the nickname wasn’t a joke. It was the one time they got the truth right.
I really am a vampire.

“Marry me, and I’ll help you destroy everyone who hurt you,” he said in a deep voice, sending chills down my spine.

Betrayed by her husband and best friend, stripped of the life she worked so hard to protect, and left for dead, Elaine Ferguson wakes up to a world turned against her.

Enter Zayn Von Richter, a ruthless and devastatingly powerful billionaire who offers her a chance at revenge on the condition that she marries him for a year.

But Zayn may not be who he appears to be, and as their connection intensifies, the lines between pretence and reality begin to fade, threatening to unravel everything Elaine has fought to reclaim.

I am a hero. The saint's husband.
A country boy chosen by the temple.
I fight, I fight, I fight.
All for the saint, for the temple.
But it wasn't until I was drained of blood and dying on the altar that I finally heard clearly what the saint and her childhood sweetheart were saying:
"If you become a hero and marry the saint, you'll have to surrender your soul to the temple. I don't want you to lose your soul."
"Then let's just find some country boy to be the hero. It won't matter if he dies."
Oh, so that's how it is.
You should have said so earlier.
I can defeat the Demon Lord just fine without the saint.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the wedding ceremony.
This time, someone else should be on the altar.

My wife, the most ruthless godmother in New York's underworld, wants a divorce.
The reason? Her male subordinate's old wound has flared up, and he only has three months to live. She wants to accompany him on his final journey as his wife.
To make room for her new lover, she not only doesn't go home, but even allows him to frame me for a fabricated death sentence.
In the dimly lit underground interrogation room, the backlash from deviating from the proper procedures caused my organs to rapidly fail, and I developed a persistent high fever.
Through the iron bars, she looked at my disfigured body, not recognizing me, but coldly raising her gun and giving the order to execute me herself.
She proudly believed that by clearing the way, she could go back and have a grand wedding with the man who was feigning illness.
Until the last shot, when my breathing stopped completely, she saw the old scar on the back of my left hand—the scar from the severed finger I had left for her.
That once arrogant godmother instantly broke down in tears beside my corpse.

In my last life, for the spy I executed, she framed me for treason and injected me with the zombie virus herself.

I died in a dungeon—by the hand of the one I trusted most.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back before it all began.

This time I didn’t interfere. I watched coldly as she got scratched, handed the only dose of serum to the spy, and as the gates swung open and he finally showed his true face.

At last she believed me, kneeling in the dirt, begging for forgiveness.

I looked into her eyes as they clouded over. “I warned you in my last life. You didn’t believe me.”

This life, every blade she wanted for me—lands on her instead.

To save my terminally ill wife and daughter, I drained half my wolf blood and tore out my own right fang.
Stripped of my source power, I became a worthless wolf despised by the entire clan.
My wife cast me out of the den, pinching her nose at the stench of rot on me; my daughter threw stones at me, cursing me with hatred as a blind, useless failure.
Together, they set their eyes on another young, strong Alpha. They let him trample my dignity in public, and finally had me brutally slaughtered on the frozen wasteland.
But they never knew, the reason that man could make their souls submit and fall for him was that his veins ran entirely with my heart's blood.
Only when I was reduced to a boneless husk of a wolf did my wife go mad, clawing her own gland raw, weeping and begging me to leave her one last mark.

I was reborn, back to the moment before I was dragged to death by motorcycles in the wasteland.

In my previous life, I listened to the moral blackmail of the saintly female lead Daisy and used my abilities to desperately save a motorcycle gang surrounded by zombies.

As a result, I was severely injured from ability overexertion, and these ungrateful wolves used me as a tool to establish dominance, dragging me to death with motorcycles across the wasteland.

Before I died, Daisy was still there crying: "We tried our best, this isn't our fault."

Now that I have a second chance, she stands before me again shouting:

"Cole! What are you standing there for? Go save them! Those people are going to die! You have abilities, you must save them!"

Looking at her hypocritical saintly face, rage burned in my chest.

Why should my abilities save ungrateful wolves? Why should my life be a stepping stone for others?

The kindness of fools is worthless!

So I threw her out to feed the zombies!

At fifteen, my parents died on their way of volunteer teaching in underprivileged areas. I was adopted by the Miller family’s Don, Vincent and was brought up by himself. For ten years, he hauled me out of the mud, gave me a home, gave me favor no one else got and taught me what a “family” was supposed to mean.
On my eighteenth birthday, I climbed onto his bed and kissed him.
He called me disgusting with a face like ice. Later, he brought Isabella home, forced me to be her bridesmaid, and made me go with her to pick out wedding dresses and jewelry.
One shove from her was all it took for him to lock me in a pitch-black confinement room and he even had the light removed.
That was when I finally understood: everything I had could be taken back from me at any moment.

I took my sister’s place to save my family. Now I am living a life that could destroy me. I never wanted anything to do with the mafia. But when my twin sister vanished without a word, I stepped into her world and became her… the wife of Rowan, a man people fear and never question.
Every day, I live a lie. His son, Dante, looks at me like I am his mother, and something inside me breaks every time he says in a low voice that l look like his mom. But not everyone is fooled.
Rowan’s family watches me too closely. They see what does not belong and they are waiting for me to slip so they can get rid of me for good.
I tell myself I can handle it. That I just need to survive long enough to protect the people I love.
But I am losing control. Because the man I was never meant to love is starting to look at me differently. And the worst part is… I think I am falling for him too.

On the execution platform, my noble and beautiful wife used her dagger to carve open my chest.
My nominal adopted son pressed a red-hot iron into my skin, branding me with the "F"-class mark of the lowest outcast, draining my transcendent bloodline dry.
"The Storm Kingdom has no use for a cripple with zero beast-spirit affinity. You belong rotting in the abyss!"
They cut the chains and kicked me into the Black Abyss—a place from which no one returns—then turned to carve up my throne.
They thought I was as good as dead.
They had no idea that the deepest darkness of that abyss harbored the most terrifying ancient demon in existence.
Two weeks later, as they raised their glasses to toast the new king's coronation, I kicked down the castle gates, wielding the ember-fire of annihilation and a tide of ten thousand beasts.
Looking down at the woman who once stood so high above me, now groveling in the mud and begging for mercy, I tossed the bloodstained broken blade onto the hem of her dress:
"Remember this forever—it was you who took a nobody you crushed beneath your feet and turned him into a king you'll kneel before and never win back. Now, hand over your lives."

In my previous life, my wife was addicted to black market gambling on football, which caused us to lose everything.
To make matters worse, a zombie horde then broke out.
We had no shelter and were quickly torn apart by a horde of frenzied zombies.
After being reborn, she planned to run off with all the money, then dump me and elope with her lover.
What she didn't know was that I had awakened the ability to read minds and knew all her plans.

Married for seven years, I lived my life like an absolute joke.
For the sake of my brother, my wife personally uprooted the roses I had so painstakingly cultivated. To please her uncle, my daughter pointed at my nose and called me a "bad daddy."
The entire family even held a vote to force me to donate my bone marrow. My wife, Elena, raised her hand without a second thought: "You'll just lose a little bone marrow. Liam will die without you."
In that moment, my heart died.
The surgery was a success.
As the anesthesia wore off, Elena was holding my hand tightly. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her voice trembled with remorse: "Aaron, I was a jerk before. As long as you were willing to save Liam, I will love only you for the rest of my life."
She thought I would be as pathetically grateful as a dog, begging for her affection and humbly forgiving her.
But I merely frowned in disgust and pulled my hand back as if shaking off garbage.
In the dead silence, I looked at this tearful woman before me and asked, politely yet confused:
"Excuse me, ma'am... who are you?"

I begged my mom for ten dollars, but she smashed my head with a frying pan instead.

The next day, my mother posted on a forum asking:
"Hi everyone. My eldest son lied about the end of the world just to get ten dollars. I want to ask, how can I sell him on the underground black market to pay off his younger brother's $20,000 debt?"

The moment I saw that post, any remaining love I had for them died instantly. I snapped my phone's SIM card in half.

What she didn’t know was that a world-ending acid flood would descend upon New York tomorrow.

I had begged so bitterly for that ten dollars just to trigger the Ten-Million-Fold Return System to build a three-billion-dollar Doomsday Ark.

Since she didn’t want it, I gave the throne of the Ark Queen to the female classmate who casually tossed me some charity.

My wife is the city's renowned "Community Angel." She donates every single cent of her high salary to the poor, all to buy herself a saintly reputation.
Meanwhile, as her husband, I spend my days rolling beneath cars in a factory, covered in grease, juggling four credit cards just to keep our large family afloat.
My parents-in-law survive on the expensive, imported life-saving meds I pay for, yet they constantly mock me for being a powerless nobody;
My own children attend private schools on my dime, only to look at me with disgust and call me an embarrassment;
And my wife? Dressed in her high-end couture, she looks down at me and condescendingly urges, "For the sake of the poor children, why don't you get another part-time job and just endure it a little longer?"
Looking at this den of parasites sucking the life out of me, a sudden, overwhelming wave of disgust washed over me.
I didn't argue. I silently put away my overdue bills, packed my bags, and completely vanished from this twisted household.
Later, at the highly anticipated Annual Charity Gala, in front of the entire city, I presented her with an ultimate "gift"—

We’ve been married for five years. Then, she got pregnant with someone else's child.
In front of everyone, she said: "Ethan doesn't want this baby. You've always wanted one, right? Fine, take it and raise it."
In that moment, I finally understood: she wasn’t incapable of loving someone—she simply never saw me as a human being.
I took off my wedding ring, left it on the tray, and bought a one-way ticket to the North. My family said I wouldn't survive in the frozen North; she said that without her, I was nothing.
Three years later, she tracked me down using the GPS hidden inside that ring. She pushed open the door to my attic room, finding only a note I’d left: "Don't look for me. We're square."

I'm an ancient vampire prince who's been playing human boyfriend to a demon hunter.
Big mistake.
She's completely unhinged—GPS tracking, 24/7 surveillance, the works.
When she threatens to dump me unless I surrender all my secrets, I do the unthinkable:
I actually say yes.
Too bad she doesn't know her "helpless" boyfriend has been the one keeping her alive all this time.

Five years into my marriage, I took off my Donna necklace at the Rossi family’s New Year’s Eve banquet and Noah still thought I could never leave him.
He stood by the long table with his mistress, Amelia, and said in front of every capo, “Some people will never measure up to her. Not even close.”
I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. I just turned and walked away. On my way out, my cousin Lucas, my fixer, handed me a cup of coffee.
Three days later, he brought me two pieces of news.
Amelia was four months pregnant. And Noah was trading family territory to get his bastard child recognized by the family.
“What are you going to do?” Lucas asked.
I stared out the window, thinking about the red lipstick stain on Noah’s shirt. Thinking about the smug look in his eyes when he told me, “I only helped her because I felt sorry for her.”
“Wait,” I said. “Wait until they think they’ve won.”
What Noah didn’t know was I was still holding one last trump card.

After I retired, I was willing to do the dirtiest work at a small auto repair shop—just to give my sick daughter an ordinary childhood.
I endured my mother’s insults, my eldest brother’s wage cuts, my younger brother’s extortion.
But they actually joined forces to steal my daughter’s life-saving money for gambling, then sold me into an illegal mine to pay off their debts.
When the iron chain locked around my wrist, when my daughter cried in despair, the killing intent that had slept in my blood for three years finally woke up completely.
They had no idea I was once the iron-blooded God of War—commander of a million troops, the name that made enemy nations tremble.

"Suck my nipples, now!" He ordered before he spoke again.
"Yes! I Own you! You are mine alone. Remember you are indebted to me and If you can't accept that fact, walk away from me and be imprisoned. The choice is yours." He said.


His name was CEO Evidence. He owns a condom company. He was arrogant and was a young billionaire of every woman's dream. He was addicted to sex.
He thought that since 90% of women craved to have him, he would never get rejected by any lady but what happens when the arrogant Sex God who was every woman's dream got rejected by a commoner whom he claimed to love?
Will he pleasure himself with her body by force?
Or he would wait until the day she accepts to willingly give her body to him?

My fiancée, with whom I've been in a relationship for three years, has threatened to break off our engagement for the hundredth time, forcing me to donate a kidney to her adopted brother, who's faking illness and acting like a hypocrite.

My biological parents even threatened to sever ties with me: "You have a healthy body. Ian has nothing but us. You can't even bear to part with a kidney. You're so selfish and cold-blooded!"

They don't know that my hands, which I used to play the piano, had already been crushed by gangsters while cleaning up their mess; they also don't know that at this moment, I have a critical illness notice for late-stage bone cancer in my pocket.

Seeing the undisguised disgust and indifference in my fiancée's eyes, I swallowed the taste of blood in my throat and calmly signed the consent form for the live organ removal.

"Okay, I'll donate. I'll give you back my life along with it."

Later, I died like a dog on the rusty operating table of a shady clinic, my bones and marrow completely drained.

But when I was truly reduced to dust and left without even a complete corpse... the truth about my vicious foster brother faking illness was exposed.

The aloof and arrogant female CEO who once treated me like trash went completely mad overnight.

She knelt desperately before my nameless grave, plunged a sharp knife into her abdomen, and collapsed in a pool of blood, pleading for me to see her one more time.