358 Book(s) Related to melina eye open

The spring semester at the Academy had barely begun when Mother's enchanted letter burst into flames on my desk, that familiar acrid smoke already filling the air.
The smoke swirled and her voice emerged, sharp with anxiety:
"Cecilia, have you found a human man yet?"
"Less than a month left before we must present our tribute to the tribe. Noah is your own brother—can you really stand by and watch him die?"
Surrendering Noah meant certain death.
Over eighty Medusa females in the tribe were of breeding age. Noah had been frail since birth, his scales pale as paper.
If he were dragged onto that cold stone altar to serve as a breeding tool, he wouldn't survive the first night.
But where the hell was I supposed to find a human man?

Three years ago, Marco Ferraro stepped over the corpses of the Vancetti family to claim his throne, delivering my sentence with cold indifference: "Don't take it personally, Noelle. It's just business."
Three years later, he is the untouchable new Godfather of New York, while I am nothing but a ghost in a threadbare coat.
His classless fiancée didn’t just buy my mother’s legacy—she took that rare pink diamond and dropped it, right in front of everyone, into a glass of whiskey thick with spit.
"Thirsty, fallen princess?"
She kicked the backs of my knees hard, forcing me onto the glass-strewn floor. Her sharp stiletto heel ground into my knuckles. "Drink it, or die."
Marco stood to the side, lighting a cigar, his eyes filled with nothing but boredom.
I tightened my grip on the shard of glass hidden in my palm, ready to drag us all down to hell.
But before I could strike, the deafening roar of rotor blades tore through the dome of the auction house. A pitch-black military helicopter hovered just outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the violent rotor wash instantly shattering every champagne tower in the room.
A voice that made the entire underworld tremble boomed through the speakers:
"Which one of you suicidal bastards touched my woman?"
A dozen crimson laser dots instantly painted a target on Marco’s forehead.
Rafael, "The Phantom," had arrived.
Tonight, no one makes it out of here alive—except me.

Three years ago, in that deadly barrier, I carved out half my progenitor heart and dragged Theron back from death's door. The wound on my back has never healed.
I thought it was a soul blood pact—bound in life and death. Then Samaela appeared, that fragile human with barely a century to live, and it all became a joke.
He believed her lies. Swallowed every word about how I'd murdered her parents in cold blood.
For that pathetic creature who couldn't even bear sunlight, my carefully groomed blood vassal sawed off my pureblooded wings, ripped out my progenitor fangs with his bare hands, and threw me into the Silver Cathedral.
Three years. Nailed to a cross with pure silver chains, I endured concentrated UV rays and holy water burning through me day and night.
Everyone waited for me to go mad, to beg, or turn to ash. I didn't.
Listening to their wedding bells toll outside, I simply watched—in the silence of my flesh charring and regenerating—as the silver light on my chains fractured inch by inch.
Then I tore out the silver spikes embedded in my rotting flesh, dragged my bleeding wreck of a body forward, and kicked open the doors to the Crimson Blood Moon Gala's hall.
Theron had forgotten one forbidden clause in the blood pact: The oathbreaker's life belongs not to the gods, but to me.

To save my sister, my husband carved open my chest with his ice blade and ripped out my phoenix heartblood.
He doesn't know the true phoenix bloodline runs through my veins, not hers. Doesn't know I was the one who threw myself into the abyss to pull him from death's grasp.
He doesn't know I am the First Phoenix—the Fire God who descended from the celestial realm for one purpose: to survive this mortal trial.
After my body crumbles to ash, when he finally watches the truth unfold in that memory crystal, madness will consume him. He'll prostrate himself before my fading remnant and beat his head bloody against the stone.
But the divine grant no mercy to betrayers.

Six months after our bonding ceremony, I was ambushed by rogue wolves while searching for rare herbs in the Black Forest.
Their poisoned claws shredded my abdomen—and with it, any chance of ever carrying pups.
But my mate held my hand and wept. My mother swore she'd save me. My father said everything would be fine.
How pathetic—
Right before they wheeled me into surgery, I heard them through a cracked door, calmly discussing how to harvest my heart for the adopted sister who'd been waiting six months.
Turns out the "accident" was a gift from my loving family of four.
Turns out the last six months of "coming home" was just them fattening up my heart for harvest.
What they don't know? The voice memo on my phone caught everything.
What they really don't know? Six months from now, I'm coming back—
With a Dark Moon Alliance badge. And a heart much colder than the one they stole.
Shh. Listen.
That stolen heart? It's starting to reject.

The day the butler of Sterling family came to claim me, the folks back in my dusty hometown lined the streets with tears in their eyes, waving goodbye like I was headed somewhere better.
The moment I stepped into that mansion, armed guards pinned me down in the first-floor medical suite, demanding I donate bone marrow to their precious adopted daughter, Celeste.
I responded by ripping out Celeste's dialysis machine.
My biological parents, Richard and Eleanor, went ballistic. They locked me in the attic storage room to "reflect on my behavior."
That night, while the house slept, I crept down to the basement and twisted open the main gas line valve.
I was halfway through rigging a candle delay fuse when the thermal imaging system caught me. Armed security tackled me before I could finish the job.
They'd had enough. They blindfolded me, tossed me onto a private jet like garbage, and flew me overnight to the most notorious hellhole in America—Deadwater, Texas.
The car had barely stopped in front of the bullet-riddled town sign when Richard leaned in with a cold warning:
"Listen to me. These people don't show mercy. An ungrateful brat like you? Three days, tops, before they pick your bones clean."
Eleanor stood beside him, dripping with fake concern:
"Willa, just agree to donate your marrow to Celeste, and you'll still be a Sterling. Stay here in this godforsaken wasteland, and you're dead."
I spat blood at her shoes. Eleanor's mask shattered. She ripped off my hood and shoved me hard into the dust.
I pushed myself up slightly, staring coldly at the yellow sand beneath my hands, and shook my head.
I squinted up at the familiar landscape—the rusted water tower, the butcher shop with skinned hogs hanging in the window, the faint smell of gunpowder in the air.
Funny. Nobody ever told me that the place I'd spent twenty years calling home was what rich people called "Deadwater."
Well. Since I'm here anyway.
Nobody's leaving this town alive today.

We were ambushed by rogue wolves and chased all the way to the cliff's edge.
Caleb—my mate, Alpha of Ravenrock Pack—was covered in blood, barely strong enough to carry one person across the chasm.
Forced by the alliance marriage between our packs, he ultimately chose me.
Laura was left behind. The feral rogues tore her apart, piece by piece. They didn't even leave a body.
Three days later, Caleb acted as if nothing had happened and completed our mating ceremony on schedule.
After the wedding, he stripped me of every dignity of my position as Luna. He treated me like a prisoner, a punching bag for his rage, making me pay for Laura's brutal death.
When I learned that my entire pack had been slaughtered, I was locked in a freezing dungeon, wanting nothing more than release.
I used the last of my strength to rip apart our mate bond. But Caleb, driven completely mad, tore me to pieces with his own hands.
When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day of the rogue attack.
This time, I chose to step back and give the one he truly loved a chance to survive.

One month until the SAT.
Staring at my phone screen—at the pulsing number on "Oracle," the mandatory score prediction app that Elite Prep forced every student to install—I couldn't help but think it was all a joke.
In my previous life, every time I finished a practice test, this garbage system would automatically dock twenty points from my predicted score.
But skip class for a day? The number would mysteriously jump up twenty points.
Back then, I actually believed in this bullshit algorithm. I completely gave up for an entire month, watching that predicted score skyrocket all the way to 1550.
But when I finally logged into College Board to check my real results, I'd scored a pathetic 400.
And that brilliant 1550? It appeared on my stepsister Dahlia's score report instead.
Disgusted that I'd embarrassed the Wright family, my father Harold froze my credit card without a second thought and threw me out of the family estate, clearing the path for Dahlia to claim Grandpa's ten-million-dollar trust fund all for herself.
That night, homeless on the streets, I was cornered by some thugs in a filthy Brooklyn alley and beaten to death.
Lying in a pool of my own blood, fading fast, I heard Dahlia's voice.
"Your GPA's been crushing mine since we were kids. I thought you, the so-called 'Straight-A student,' were supposed to be so smart."
She stood over me, mocking. "Turns out you got played by a prediction app. Pathetic."
That's when it finally clicked. My Oracle prediction system had been completely rigged from the source code—by Dahlia.
I shot up in bed, gasping, my shirt soaked through with sweat. I'd actually gone back in time—one month before the test.
Right now, the Oracle widget glowed eerily on my phone's home screen, displaying a single number: 1350.

My name is Megan, and I am the Queen of the Star Fae.
Sixteen years ago, I left my Mate — Orlando, Alpha of the Darkmoon Pack — and the daughter we had just brought into the world, to hold back an invasion of Abyssal demons.
Sixteen years of war in the Void — and at last, the Abyss was sealed.
I came home crowned in glory, my mastery over the Source of Starlight absolute. I expected my husband's arms and my daughter's smile waiting for me.
I never imagined that setting foot on Darkmoon land again would mean no flowers, no cheering — only the sound of my own child screaming for help from inside a filthy dungeon.

In my third year at the Eden Center, I forgot how to play guitar, forgot the rhythm of rock and roll, and forgot the name Melody.
They used twelve thousand electric shocks and seven hundred hours of sleep deprivation to scrub my name down to Number 2963.
Now, I'm their perfect instrument. No preferences, no pain, only commands.
My parents finally got the perfect daughter they'd always dreamed of—until the day they ordered me to die.

I'm Ophelia, a design student about to graduate.
I've been pulling all-nighters at my aunt Millicent's adult store, frantically working on my graduation project.
Aunt Millicent's shop sells all sorts of bizarre stuff - from massage chairs to aromatherapy products, the works. The demo area is constantly busy with customers wanting to try out the newest items.
Seeing me looking like a complete zombie from exhaustion, my aunt handed me a bottle of sleep aromatherapy and a matching eye mask, swearing they'd have me out like a light till morning.
Well, that sleep did more than knock me out cold - it landed me in the biggest mess of my life! A mortifyingly embarrassing situation was about to hit me out of nowhere!

Aston Whitmore thought I loved him. Truth is, his mother bought a year of my life for a million dollars.
He thought those 3 AM study sessions were about redemption and romance across class lines. He didn't know I was never watching his pretty face—I was watching the countdown to my mother's kidney transplant payment.
I froze this trust fund prince's credit cards, cut his internet, and nailed him to that desk until his eyes went bloodshot cramming calculus.
When he turned into a guard dog in front of the whole cafeteria, publicly staking his claim on me, all I was calculating was the date that final payment would clear.
Today, he burst through the mansion door clutching his Yale acceptance letter, ready to give me some grand confession.
I was already thirty thousand feet up on a flight to Zurich, staring at that million-dollar deposit notification, face blank as I pulled out the SIM card, snapped it in half, and tossed it in the trash.
No note. No goodbye.
Just one notarized Service Completion Certificate sitting on that empty desk. Terms fulfilled. Transaction closed.

When I accepted the Global War Photography Award at the ceremony, a reality TV crew crashed through the velvet ropes, their cameras flashing like strobes at a crime scene.
"Ms. Evelyn Vance!"
The host shoved a microphone in my face. "After twenty years of silence, are you still holding a grudge against your father? Just because he saved the neighbor's orphaned child first and left you in that burning building?"
I looked up, past the blinding lights, toward the figure at the edge of the crowd. Robert Bennett.
He pushed through and stepped forward, his calloused hands trembling as they closed around my cold fingers.
"Nora, Kayla's parents didn't make it out. Under those circumstances, I had to get that newly orphaned child to safety first."
His eyes pleaded with me. "You're my daughter. You understand, don't you?"
I stared at those hands imprisoning mine, then pulled my lips into a cold smile and wrenched free.
"You've got the wrong person," my voice was ice. "There's no Nora here. My name is Evelyn Vance."

He was supposed to be my way out, but he was the one who pushed me into the pit all along.
I used to think Carter was the one good thing in this hellhole of a high school. He'd stand up for me when the whole class mocked my stutter. He'd hand me a clean jacket when my locker got stuffed with dead rats.
For him, I gave up my Ivy League dreams, willingly settling for some mediocre state university.
Until that Friday outside the locker room, when I heard him brag to his teammates and the head cheerleader—the same girl who'd led the charge in tormenting me—about his "conquest" in the most casual tone imaginable.
Turns out, I was just the prize in their sick bet.
In that moment, everything I'd believed in shattered.
I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just quietly changed my college application, and then, at the height of their triumph, I watched with cold eyes as they destroyed themselves.

Lunar Depletion Syndrome. Seven days.
That was my death countdown. And my Alpha mate Kael was still threatening me, demanding I use the last of my life force to save my sister.
On our third anniversary, he had given me a surgical consent form and dissolution papers as gifts.
How laughable.
Three years ago he had said my eyes sparkled like stars. Three years later he wanted me to close them forever.
They all said I had finally matured, learned the spirit of sacrifice expected of an older sister. The joke was, I hadn't been moved by love.
I was just tired.
Why struggle when death was inevitable?
Rather than dying alone in the wilderness, it was better to die on the operating table and become the perfect sacrifice in their story.

My family was born from the abyss, with ancient siren blood in our veins. Our nature demands that every so often, we must feed on a human heart.
So when Caius, playing the perfect lover, slid that spiked martini across the table, I didn't refuse.
The wedding ring he'd slipped off ten minutes ago still sat warm in his suit pocket. As he leaned closer, expensive pregnancy oil—the kind his wife slathered on—mixed with the sour reek of betrayal.
I played along, letting myself collapse against the table as he eagerly pulled out his phone:
"Got her. Delivery to the island tonight. Line up someone hot for me—those stretch marks on my wife are turning my stomach."
He thought he'd made the perfect play, bagged a prize to trade for whatever he wanted.
What he didn't know: we creatures from the deep crave one thing above all—hearts steeped in filthy lies taste sweetest.

I was the undefeated queen of the underground octagon—a body held together by broken bones and spilled blood, all to build Dorian's fighting empire from the ground up.
But when he'd made it to the top in his tailored suits and polished shoes, suddenly my scars made me too crude, too ugly to stand beside him.
He ordered me to throw my title defense—told me to take a dive for some rich girl whose daddy bought her a spot in the cage. And when that woman shattered both my legs with an illegal knee strike, he just stood there and watched.
I clawed my way out of that wreckage—barely breathing. Left him a blood-stained divorce decree and vanished.
While he mourned over what he thought were my ashes, I was already training alongside the legendary king of the octagon, rebuilding myself from the ground up.
Now I'm back—stronger than ever.
This time, I'm going to break that princess's pretty face and crush his pathetic ego underfoot.

This was the thirteenth time I'd tried to earn their love—and my last.
For months, I'd worked myself to exhaustion, five months pregnant, hand-sewing thousands of pearls onto what I'd hoped would become the dress of my dreams.
But moments before the ceremony, my fiancé and his family burst into the bridal suite and tore it off me. They gave it to her—the girl they'd raised, the one they'd always loved more.
They stole my wedding. They stole my groom. And when I collapsed, bleeding, they made sure the ambulance took her instead—all because she'd fainted from the drama.
Watching those sirens fade, I finally understood: I was never the daughter they wanted to save.

My name is Evelyn. I grew up in the slums. Now, I'm the wife of Victor De Luca, head of New York's most feared mafia family.
Outsiders say I left him for money when he had nothing, then shamelessly came crawling back once he rose to power.
Only Victor and I know the truth. He paid five million dollars to drag me back, chain me here like a dog, and lock me away.
He married me, trapped me in this estate, and found new ways to break me every day.
He brought his mistress into our bed. He used his power to grind what was left of my dignity into dust.
But there's one thing he doesn't know.
I'm dying.
I have an inherited bone marrow failure disorder. The same disease that drained my mother dry. Now it's my turn.
Five years ago, I took the money and walked away. I let everyone call me every name they wanted because I couldn't make him watch me waste away.
I'm not afraid of death. I'm afraid of pain.
But it doesn't matter anymore.
This long, slow torture is almost over.

"Fuck a whale like that? Dude, I'd need a goddamn forklift to dig through the rolls and find the hole. You could pay me a thousand bucks and I still wouldn't touch it. This isn't a date—this is a fear factor challenge."
Three months ago, those words boomed through the speakers at the frat party, filling every corner of the house.
That night, I was the joke. The fattest pig in their twisted little hunting game.
Three months later, I'm at the podium running for student body president. My waist dropped from 38 inches to 24, and this custom suit fits like a weapon.
Down below, the same people who laughed are staring up at me now. And that asshole who needed the forklift? He's face-down in the dirt like a kicked dog, waiting for me to end him.
My name is Leona. This isn't some crying fat girl's diary anymore. This is how I crushed every bastard who ever stepped on me—and clawed my way to the crown with blood and sweat.

I spent fifteen years taking beatings in the Bronx hellhole — beatings meant for my mother.
She's a Manhattan heiress now. Chanel suits, a daughter on her arm, and eyes full of disgust whenever they land on my hollowed-out frame.
"You're just like your disgusting father. A sewer rat. You've always reeked of something rotten."
What she doesn't know: on that rainy night fifteen years ago, I wrapped my arms around that man's legs and let him kick me half to death, so she could run.
What she also doesn't know: the tumor in my stomach has spread. I won't survive the winter.
I'd made my peace with dying alone, quietly, so I wouldn't disturb the perfect life she'd built. I swallowed the blood rising in my throat and started walking toward the dark.
Then came the dinner party, a few months later. Her daughter shoved me off a second-floor balcony.
I hit the ground at her feet like a broken doll. Dark red blood flooded across her white heels.
I watched the color drain from her face. With the last breath I had, I apologized.
"Don't be scared. This piece of garbage won't dirty your eyes anymore."

Being completely unbalanced makes you a liability. But pair two broken mages together? That creates an unstoppable force.
In Arcania, your Overall Rating is everything. With a bone-dry mana pool, I was publicly humiliated by my Instructor and banished to the academy's deadliest ruined tower.
Everyone expected me to die there. Even my fiancé threw our engagement ring in my face before the entire school.
What they didn't know was that inside that rat-infested prison, I'd meet Kael—the guy ranked second-to-last.
He possessed an ocean of raw magic, but couldn't channel a single drop without a violent, explosive backfire.
Smash our pathetic stat sheets together, though, and you forge the most terrifying magical entity on the continent.
"Ready to tear through the rankings and take the top spot?" I asked.
He grinned. "My pleasure."

Five years into living with my stepbrother Gideon, the scholarship girl he sponsored moved into our house.
To repay his "generosity," she made a habit of slipping into his bed at night. By day, she took it upon herself to "fix" my antisocial, withdrawn personality.
Three days before St. George Prep's graduation ceremony, she brought me a glass of juice wearing that nauseating sugar-sweet smile.
"You know, Charlotte, your peanut allergy is probably psychosomatic. You just need some exposure therapy. Let me help you get over it."
That night, my throat closed completely. She'd deliberately laced my drink with concentrated peanut extract.
I convulsed on the cold hardwood floor, vision tunneling as oxygen fled my lungs.
In the last second before darkness swallowed me whole, I clawed desperately toward the half-open door.
Standing in the hallway were my boyfriend Dylan and my stepbrother Gideon.
They simply watched me suffocate. Then Gideon calmly reached out and shut the door.
I died from anaphylactic shock.
Three months later, as a ghost tethered to this world, I watched her stride onto Stanford's campus. Wearing my clothes. Carrying my acceptance letter. Burning through my trust fund.
Through the crowd, I saw Gideon—my ice-cold, unreachable stepbrother—gently cradle her face and press his lips to hers.
Then I gasped awake.
I was back. Three days before graduation.

I had just pulled the teddy bear cookies from the oven when my daughter Dora ran into the kitchen.
"Dora, sweetheart! Mommy's special cookies are ready!"
But the moment she saw the cookies, her face went white as a sheet. She screamed "Get away! Get away!" and bolted from the room.
I was completely stunned. Just then, Herbert walked through the door.
"Try one and tell me what's wrong," I said, pointing at the cookies.
Herbert was about to comfort me, but when he learned I'd made these cookies for Dora, his expression turned absolutely bizarre. "You really made these? If you did, I want a divorce. Immediately!"
"What?"
My mother-in-law Athena heard the commotion and came to console me, but the moment she heard these were cookies I'd made for my daughter, she slapped the entire tray out of my hands. "What kind of mother are you?!"
Cookie crumbs scattered across the floor. I stood there in shock, completely bewildered by what was happening.

I survived 100 underground death matches just to keep my brother alive.
My reward? A rusted coffee can holding his ashes.
When I knelt in the pouring rain, desperately scraping his ash out of the black mud, Cassian—the mafia boss I'd bled for ten years—kicked the can away.
He pulled a gun and pressed it to my head. All because his innocent fiancée felt "scared" by my look.
"Apologize to her," he commanded.
Looking at the gun I had engraved with his name years ago, I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I just laughed.
Clutching the battered, empty tin can to my chest, I turned and stepped off the cliff into the raging Black Sea.
Only then did the great Cassian panic, his desperate screams swallowed by the dark waves.

I am the only daughter of the Lycan King, the future queen destined to rule all packs. Yet my wolf, Nyx, is abnormally weak—like a stunted pup that never grew.
My parents told me that Lycan blood runs too strong, that I need to find my fated mate. Only through the mate bond can the seal be fully broken.
Ten days ago, Nyx suddenly whimpered in my mind, guiding my gaze toward Silvercrown Academy.
To find him, I concealed my identity as the Lycan King's heir and enrolled here as an ordinary transfer student.
I came here expecting a fairytale. Instead, what waited for me was brutal humiliation.

No one knew I was an addict.
Not to alcohol, not to drugs, but to the rawest, dirtiest kind of union.
To keep up the facade of this respectable job, to stop myself from turning into some desperate, heat-crazed stray begging for a man’s touch on the street, I had to swallow those little blue pills every day.
Until that damn blizzard trapped me with thirty hockey players reeking of sweat and testosterone, and my pills—gone.

"Stop—Daniel, the fk are you doing! I came here to learn to swim, not get fked!"
In the pool, because my kicks were all wrong, Daniel—my husband's cousin—told me to wrap my legs around his waist to "feel the rhythm."
Except I was wearing that scarlet bikini Vincent shoved me into—practically nothing. Even worse, Daniel's rk-hard ck in those thin trunks was jammed right up against my py.
Every time he kicked, that thing dragged right over my ct, like it was about to shove straight inside.

"Three years, and you still haven't taken a mate. You're obviously waiting for me to come back."
Three years ago, my delusional ex-Alpha threw me out of the pack like garbage—all for some so-called "prime Omega." Overnight I became a rogue, with nothing and no one.
Now he actually thought I'd spent all that time pining for him?
He'd never know I hadn't taken another Alpha because I was already bonded to the Lycan King himself—with pups already tearing across the estate on their chubby little legs.
I figured I'd never have to smell this expired trash again.
But today, he decided to show up and beg for death.
Fine by me. I'd grind that pathetic Alpha ego of his into dust myself.

The Solarien family had two daughters.
Aurelia, the younger, was their pride and joy, soon to marry Duke Lysander beneath a reputation she had never earned: the so-called genius enchantress.
I, Vespera, was nothing more than the family's hidden workhorse, locked in a basement and valued only for what I could produce.
For years, I churned out enchanted gear to fund their lavish life while they used me as a stepping stone for Aurelia without a trace of guilt.
I let them bleed me dry, clinging to the faint hope that they might someday treat me like family.
Then, on the eve of my wedding, my parents stole the gown I had spent three years pouring my blood and sweat into, all so Aurelia could make a grand impression.
They threatened my fiancé's life and forced me to cut my wrist, using my blood to reverse the runes and attune the enchantment to her instead of me—even though the backlash could cripple my magic for life.
The moment I watched my blood soak into that gown, I gave up on my family for good.
For all the family pride they fought so desperately to protect, there had never been room for me.

For five years, I had turned Preston Tanner from a broke kid who could barely afford tuition into one of Silicon Valley's hottest young founders.
I thought we would do exactly what we had promised back in that garage—take our AI healthcare startup public, ring the opening bell together, and get married.
Until today.
At the product launch that would determine whether we landed our Series A, Preston stood before the press and credited the core algorithm patent I had spent seventy-two sleepless hours developing to a girl who couldn't even write Python.
"Sloane, you're already my fiancée," he said. "Willow needs this patent to strengthen her green-card application."
Staring at his utterly self-righteous face, I felt sick.
I didn't know when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, he had rotted from the inside out.
And if he was rotten, it was time to throw him away.

I am the sole heir to the Hartwell fortune.
But this birthday dinner — the one meant to sign the family trust into my hands on my twenty-second year — was being ruined by the housekeeper's daughter.
Brianna had done it on purpose. She'd stolen the archival couture gown my late mother left behind, then thrown herself into the champagne tower and pinned it on me.
"Oh God, Audrey, why did you push me?" She was already crying, her voice pitched for the crowd. "I know you hate seeing me in this dress, but your father was the one who insisted I wear it. Please don't make me leave."
In my last life, I'd stood there sobbing, waving my hands, trying to explain.
For that, I'd been stripped of my inheritance on the spot, committed to a psychiatric ward, and in the end, every fingernail torn out one by one, I'd died in agony.
But I'd been reborn.
Now I looked down at Brianna crumpled among the shattered crystal, playing the victim, and I didn't waste a word.
I crossed the floor, stood over her, drew my arm back, and slapped her across the face as hard as I could.
"Shut your mouth."

“Now come along, little Angel. You would not want any freak accidents to happen to any of these humans. Would you?”

''Do you know you are the most beautiful creature I have ever had the pleasure of meeting?''

There are no others like you. Despite the thousands I have been with, you are the one I find the most delicious. Now tell me, do you find me attractive?” ****

Elise is the daughter of the Angel of death, Azrael. She is half human and half archangel. While She has been raised by Michael, her family of angels has made it clear that she is not allowed to meet her father. Not only that, but the other angels fear her unique gifts that she shares with her father. They have been keeping secrets.

A man, or should I say demon, comes into Elise life. He helps her reveal what has been kept from her. By helping her unlock her true power, maybe he has awaken something she didn’t even know she was capable of having. Maybe she is more like her father than anyone knowing.

"How old are you?"
"I am 18."
He chuckled. "Little wolf."
"What, how old are you?"
"I am 29."
she laughed. "Old wolf."
Callum had to admit it probably looked ridiculous. He was a big bad alpha being led around by a tiny she-wolf. She pulled him to the tree line and started to strip. He watched as she removed her clothes. Her body was designed perfectly. She was toned all over. Callum felt a strong urge to lick them. His pants were incredibly tight at this point.


Daisy had done the unthinkable, and because of the choices she made as a child, she was shunned by her pack. For the past eight years, it was just her. Until she turned sixteen and got her wolf Summer. When Daisy’s mate Callum comes to her pack, she feels the mate bond. But joining him will certainly put his pack in jeopardy.

As soon as their skin touches, Ember felt like her am going to combust. He must have felt it to because he pushed her into the wall slamming her back against it. Pushing her mouth to his. she felt his hands roaming her body as he was exploring her mouth.

“I'm Hayden.”the man said.

Since the accident at her 16th Birthday, she's thought she was cursed. She forced to live a life alone with her beast--until she meets Hayden. Her alpha, her mate. Maybe it wasn't a curse, but a blessing.

“Well, if it isn’t little Ophelia Blake.”
His voice was dark like poison falling from his perfect mouth. He had tattoos peeking out of his white button-down shirt.
He looked like sin; that devilish smile could make angels fall to taste it.
But I was no angel, so began my dance with the devil.


I was born in blood and I never escaped it.
Violence wasn’t just my beginning, it became my inheritance. While other children outgrew their shadows, mine only grew darker. I clawed my way toward something better, but the past isn’t something you outrun.
Especially when it wears the face of Fox Valentine.
He was my first sin, my fiercest bond, the scar I carry not on my skin, but deep in my soul.
I left him behind to build a life on justice, not blood.
But when my job demands I bring him down, I’m dragged back into his world—and into his arms.
Now I must walk the knife's edge between duty and desire, between the monster I vowed to defeat and the man I can’t forget.
Warning
This is a Dark Mafia Romance Reader Discretion is advised.

I felt warm soft lips on my neck. My body felt like it was igniting.
“Your skin is so soft.” A voice said against my neck.

It was a familiar smooth voice that felt like it was filled with a richness. I felt a soft bite into my neck, and I moaned. Large hands slid down my sides. My knee went up and those large hands slid up my thighs, gently, caressing me.
The hands came up and moved between us to grab at my breasts.
The mouth that was occupying my neck moved down kissing my throat. My hands slid from his pale skin to his muscled back and wrapped into clean white hair.
**
Grey Eyes, black wings, and white hair that reminded me of silver. That was my future. A mastermind behind a stone mask. Someone who had been my bully all throughout my childhood. He became my captor, my husband, my abuser, my protector, my comfort, my partner, and my lover.

War is horrible, there is no other universal truth that is truer. It turns its victims, and everyone is a victim in war, into monsters and the victors write history. History shows that the winners where courageous and the good guys. The truth is the people who write history, the winners, they’re sinister. You must be to win.

Valerion turned back to the witches, “So you just expect me to stand here,” he said, his voice filled with rage, “And watch my daughter suffer in pain until she DIES?!”
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Lilith breaks the silence.
“In order to end Princess Azrael's pain and save her life, there's only one solution.”
All eyes were on Lilith now, waiting for her to continue.
Then, she spoke the words that would change everything.
“The princess has to mate with the Lycan Alpha.”

For centuries, vampires and werewolves have been locked in an endless war, their hatred written in blood and history. Azrael, the fierce and calculating princess of the vampire kingdom, has spent her life proving her worth in a court that favors her twin brother. As the daughter of the ruthless King Valerion, she knows power is never given, it must be taken. But when fate binds her to Draven, the brutal and feared Alpha of the Lycans, everything she has fought for is threatened.

Draven is a conqueror, a warrior who bows to no one. When he discovers that his fated mate is a vampire, his greatest enemy. He resists, knowing that such a bond could destroy everything he has built. Yet the pull between them is undeniable, and as war looms once more, their connection may become the spark that ignites a far greater conflict.

With enemies lurking in the shadows and the weight of their people on their shoulders, Azrael and Draven must make a choice, fight fate or embrace it. But in a world where loyalty is fragile and betrayal is deadly, surrendering to the bond may be the most dangerous risk of all.

Hailey Parker, a naive young woman of twenty-one, gets more than she bargained for when she gets into a deal in an attempt to protect her fiancé.

Leaving the only place she had known all her life, she soon realizes that she had gotten way more than she'd bargained for and lots of buried secrets spill out in the open leaving her broken and defenseless.

With everything in her, she wishes to go back to the girl she was before, but if wishes were horses bitches could ride. Her horrible nightmare had just begun.

Will she rise above the rushing tides or will she let it sweep her under?

It has been years since my mother Kaya had been given the orders to reform the packs in the south. Instructions by the goddess herself. She had of course done it. She had blended the north into the south making our pack, Shadow Pack the strongest on the continent, if not the world. As well as helping reform other packs. Everyone, or so I thought was reaping the blessings of it.
My father, alpha Cade followed my mother's desire for change and had announced that I would be the first female Alpha. Despite the challenge, I was determined to be great at it. I had my mother's determination and my father's strength. I had my cousin, Quentin, who would aid me, and make sure I was capable. Not to mention I was just going to follow my mother and do what the goddess instructed of my family. The war had been won against Howie; years ago. Destruction of the northern wolves had ceased. I was sure the Goddess would protect us. After all my family had followed her and been her servant on earth. Why wouldn't she bless and protect her most dutiful?

I never knew how wrong I could be. I knew I would face prejudice; I was to be the first female Alpha. That came with its own challenges. Being the first of anything always did. But my mother had faced it, and I was determined to match her determination with my own. What I didn't account for was it was more than being female that was the problem.

This book is a continuation of "Kaya The Deaf She Wolf" The book is about Sol. Cade and Kaya will be a small presence in the book but not the main characters.

Persephone grew up with only her mother, Demeter, and the nymphs on her mother's estate. She was taught certain things about the world, but only from a jaded Demeter's viewpoint. She was taught that all the Gods, especially Hades, are the worst in the world, despite the fact that she is one of the 12 Olympians who run the world.
When Zeus calls Hades to meet at Demeter's, it is discussed as a rebellion against the Gods. A plot to perhaps release their father from Tartarus has Zues stressed and demanding that his brother makes sure their father is tightly locked away in Tartarus.
With the arrival of two other Olympians on Demeter's estate, she shuffles her daughter away. She doesn't want her to be around any of the other Gods. She wants to keep her daughter intact in her own image, as Persephone is all she has. Unfortunately for Demeter, Hades caught a glimpse of Persephone, and one glance was all it took. He wants her. With tensions between the rebels and the Gods and Demeters' temper, it does not seem a good time to be falling in love.
This is a modern take on the tale of Hades and Persephone.

💍 Fake vows. Real sparks. One impossible deal…

When Fallon Prescott returns home for what’s supposed to be a routine family dinner, she’s met with a double blow: her father’s empire is crumbling, and the only way to save it is through a marriage she never asked for — to Reid Callahan, the one man she vowed to never see again.

Reid — arrogant, gorgeous, and heir to the powerful Callahan fortune — isn’t exactly thrilled either. But for the sake of business, legacy, and keeping their families happy, they both agree to the unthinkable: a two-year marriage contract. No feelings. No strings. No mess.

Just one problem…
Pretending to be the perfect couple isn’t as easy as they thought.

From tense charity galas to late-night encounters that feel far too real, Fallon finds herself drawn to the very man she swore to keep at arm’s length. Beneath Reid’s cool charm is a tenderness she never expected. And beneath her icy exterior, something’s starting to melt.

As sparks fly and the lines between fake and forever blur, Fallon has to ask herself: Is she falling for the man she promised not to love?

Perfect for fans of enemies-to-lovers, arranged marriage, and slow-burn tension that catches fire, The Arrangement is a sharp, sexy romance about love, loyalty, and the lies we tell ourselves to stay safe.

I was supposed to be an ordinary girl.
A girl who spent most of her free time reading fantasy books, dreaming about magic, wolves, and unimaginable worlds that I couldn't possibly enter. I had my parents, my cute cat Puffy, and a quiet, dull life that I honestly thought would stay that way.

But then I turned sixteen.
One strange day was all it took for my perfectly normal life to fall apart. It turns out, magic was real. And somehow, I ended up in Crimson Academy, the only magical school in all the realms.

Yeah, apparently, my life wasn't as ordinary as I thought. And the best part? At Crimson Academy, there are so many magical people. I mean, wolves and literal witches. Who knew witches even existed? But yeah, you find them at Crimson Academy.

The more I learned about this world, the more I realized that something about me didn't really add up. And somehow, I was right in the middle of all this chaos.

But I guess being magical comes with enemies, because I have lots of them. And a destiny I didn't exactly ask for. But if there's one thing I've learned from all those fantasy books I've read, it's this: If fate wants a fight, it definitely picked the wrong girl.

"I love you,"
"You do realize that you are married to my best friend, the Beta of the pack right?"
"We aren't married yet. Just engaged,"
"What's the difference?"
"I can choose not to marry him."
"Sorry, not on my watch. We should probably stop seeing each other,"
Morticia, after being engaged to the Beta of the pack, finds herself falling in love with the Alpha of the pack. She tries hard so as not to embarrass her parents by sticking with Jacob.
Jake tries his best to hide his feelings for Morticia while trying to protect his friendship with Jacob but things take a drastic turn when he finds out Morticia is his mate.

Bear,
If you ever have hesitations about me, know this: you asked me to write it down, you asked me to remind you when you forget. As you know, there are very few things I wouldn't do that you, or, if you don't remember, you will soon know that as fact.

Before we start, a word of warning: Please don't judge me too harshly at the beginning. It was a different time, a worse time. I make no excuses for who I was forced to become, nor the choices I made, after all, they led me to you. Let these pages reflect who I became and who I am now.

You know the years leading up to the war well, so I will just skip to the crucial time: the year the Dollhouse chose me. With the Dollhouse came the Ravens, courageous women who risked everything for the end to finally come. Each carried her own name, her own trials, and her own secrets.

From then on, nothing was simple. Nothing was safe, and everything I thought I knew was tested. That is where we start, though you should know, I start and will always end with you. But you can follow the rest.

"I didn’t drug your drink," I said, my voice shaking in the dark.

"Liar," he spat. "You're just like your precious Stewart family. Deception runs in your blood, doesn't it?"

"Believe what you want," I fired back, lifting my chin. "I'm done with all of this. Done with you. I’m not going back anymore!"

His eyes narrowed dangerously in an instant , and he stepped closer, backing me against the wall until I could feel his breath on my face.

"Go ahead and leave," he growled. "But I'll always find you Elena. You're mine."


Elena, married to Reginald through her parents' ruthless machinations, naively believed she could wait for true love, only to be met with his betrayal with his first love Vivian.

Reginald, the ruthless heir to the Vanderbilt empire, thought he could control everything. Until Elena decided on divorce and disappeared, his control twisted into something he couldn't believe.

Five years later, Elena returns with twins in tow, and a bombshell revelation stuns everyone - she is the mysterious CEO of the Phoenix Group, rising from nothing to Vanderbilt's top rival in just two years.

With Reginald claiming her as his and the twins revealed as his, Elena must decide: give in to him or keep fighting for her freedom.

Everyone used to say Ryan Scott loved me more than his own life.
I used to believe that too.
Then I found out I was pregnant with Ryan’s child—
and that’s when my adopted sister told me she was pregnant with his child as well.
So I chose revenge.
I emptied his accounts, staged the perfect accident, and planned my own “death.”
On the day I “died,” Ryan completely broke down, clutching my urn like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
While he sobbed his heart out in front of my photo, I was already holding another man’s hand—the man who never let go of me when I was at my lowest—
and walking toward the brand‑new life that truly belonged to me.

“What if your curiosity gets you in trouble?”

I try to remain calm as his fingers trail higher from my feet, drawing shapes on the inside of my thighs, teasingly approaching my more private parts.

“T-trouble?”

There goes the stuttering again…

“Yes, my little rogue, it could get you in a lot of trouble…”

He grabs me anew, and with a swift move I’m laying splayed on him with my stomach on his legs.


When Nel gets caught attacking Nick’s pack, their encounter is as far from the typical romantic werewolf love story as it gets. His lawful Alpha self and her free rogue spirit collide in an explosive fusion. With the clock ticking above their heads till their time runs out, the investigation for the assault will start bringing pungent secrets of the past to the surface. For each step they take forth towards each other, a new hindrance forces them to drift two steps apart. Through their journey between plots, old enigmas and unknown enemies, can they accept each other for who they really are and rise as one before the revelations bring everything they care for down?

At twelve, I lost my parents and was taken in by the Brooks—our families had a marriage pact. For a decade, everyone expected me to marry their son Conner, a future I'd accepted as duty.
Then Conner's tabloid scandal with another woman destroyed the engagement. Chaos hit our family businesses—until Dylan, Conner's uncle who barely spoke to me, offered: Marry me instead.
It was the only way to save everything. I said yes, no time to fear marrying a stranger.
What stunned me? The wild side of Uncle Dylan I never saw. It hit fast, hot—pulling me in until I was hopelessly falling.
And my best friend? She's about to find a chaotic, twisty romance of her own. Turns out, life's best gifts are the ones you never see coming—even if they start with a marriage of convenience.

Saving his grandmother’s life came with an unexpected price: a marriage of convenience to Ethan Wentworth.

Fresh out of college, buried under my father’s medical debt, and foolishly drawn to him from the first glance, I agreed. I built a home, gave him twins, and loved him quietly, even as his heart remained fixed on another.

Then he whispered her name in his sleep.

The spell broke.

I walked away from the loveless marriage, determined to build a life and career of my own. The children stay with him—for now—while I find myself.

He’s only just realizing he doesn’t want to let me go.
But I’m no longer the girl who waited.

This time, he’s the one chasing.