2863 Book(s) Related to Loving my boyfriend's best friend

I was reborn twelve hours before the anomaly occurred.

In my previous life, I died tragically in a sea of fire, unable to even protect my three-year-old daughter.

In this life, I returned from hell with the "Shadow" that rules the abyss, only to discover that the only antidote to ending the wasteland lies in my daughter's palm.

Her ex-wife, who was possessed by a monster, the greedy military, and even "myself" who went mad across parallel universes all tried to tear her apart and suck her blood.

You want to harm my daughter? Fine. Then let's see if you can withstand this all-consuming polar night!

For seven years, Elara sacrificed her blood to her wolf family, only to be betrayed by her husband and own child for a fake savior and a handful of candy. She abandons all love, awakens her ancient vampire queen power, and delivers brutal, unforgiving karmic punishment to everyone who drained and deceived her. No forgiveness, only eternal solitude atop her blood-stained throne.

I thought that after twenty years with the Sterlings—even as an adopted child—I'd at least count as family. But the day they found their biological daughter Victoria, they announced they were throwing me out and planned to humiliate me at the family gathering. Based on what right?

Even more disgusting was how my almost-fiancé Blake immediately started fooling around with Victoria, eager to watch me get kicked to the curb!

When everyone was lining up to step on me, it was Alexander—the one I'm supposed to call "stepbrother"—who protected me. In his apartment, when he stood behind me gripping my hand as I chopped vegetables, his breath grazing my ear before he finally bent down to kiss me... my heartbeat went completely erratic.

On the night of the charity gallery opening, I caught Lucas and Lila tangled together in the storage closet.
He pulled the girl tight against his chest and sneered, “Stella, you’re eight whole years older than me. You’ve controlled my life for five years—when are you gonna realize you can never hold onto me?”
Lila giggled, snuggling deeper into his arms. “You’re past your prime, ma’am. Why cling to someone who was never yours to begin with?”
Snickers and mocking laughter rippled through the onlookers.
I gave a slow, hollow smile.
For five years, I single-handedly kept Scott Enterprises afloat, mopped up every mess he made, and buried every scandal spawned by his endless string of flings.
Still, he hopped from one girl to the next, weaponizing our age gap to mock and hurt me, over and over again.
Then he shoved me hard. I crumpled to the floor in a pool of my own blood, watching him bolt out with another woman in his arms, not a single glance thrown back my way.
I knew right then the baby was gone.
Everyone whispered how pathetically I’d bent over backward for love.
No one ever learned the truth: I endured everything only because his face mirrored my late fiancé, Elias.

"Abort her mutt. Liora is carrying my true pureblood heir."
My Alpha husband’s voice was ice-cold as I bled out on the delivery bed.
The woman he was protecting? My fiercely loyal best friend.
While I was screaming in pain, biting my lips bloody to birth his child, he was in the next room, making her moan.
He killed our baby.
When I returned from burying my only family in the freezing rain, his guards threw holy water in my face.
"Wash her," Lachlan ordered coldly. "The stench of death on her will harm Liora's pup."
I stared at the man who once took nine lashes of a barbed whip just to marry me.
He aborted my baby to save hers. He let my grandmother die of shock.
He tossed me a bag of gold like a beggar and told me to stop causing drama.
So, I packed my bags, and vanished into his world.

“Smile, Natalie,” Callum whispered before he walked onstage.

So I smiled while he thanked another woman for the crisis plan I had written. I smiled when he pinned my grandmother’s sapphire brooch to her dress. I even smiled when his message came in, canceling our nineteenth appointment at the county clerk’s office.

Then I walked out with our unsigned marriage license papers in my purse and called the one CEO he hated most.

By the time Callum realized I wasn’t waiting anymore, I had already taken my name, my work, and my future back.

I'm the forgotten eldest son of the Cross family.
My parents see me as a walking blood bag for my brother Colin, while my wife views me as a sinner destined to spend my life atoning for my mistakes.
When Audrey pressured me to donate a kidney, I agreed.
Not only did I agree, but I also liquidated all my assets and transferred them to my lab.
They thought I was foolish, that I was still begging for their love.
In reality, I was just tying up loose ends.
The night before the surgery, I coughed up a pool of blood.
Audrey laughed coldly over the phone: "Stop the act, Evan. You just want to dodge responsibility. You'll go to any lengths for attention."
The surgery was a "success."
Colin got the kidney he'd always dreamed of.
And I died in the recovery room.
My soul floated in the air as I watched Audrey push open the hospital door, wearing a smile that dripped with pity, ready to put on a show of "redemption."
"Evan, I know you've been wronged. Let's start over..."
The only response to her was the white sheet covering my lifeless body.

Every night, dragging noises come from the floor above.
The neighbor claims he just can’t sleep, yet he stares at my window and grins in the dead of night.
Later, he dies.
But at two in the morning, I still get a text message from him.
Someone else warns me: Don’t go to the sixth floor.
The police say this building doesn’t even have a sixth floor.
Yet I’ve seen people go up there with my own eyes.
Where exactly does this so-called sixth floor lead?
Who really died?
And who on earth is the one texting me?

I've married sixteen dead men for a living. My seventeenth husband just opened his eyes.
I was born knowing one thing: the dead can speak one last time — but only to a spouse.
So I marry dead men. Rich families pay me to wed their fresh corpses, carry the last words sealed inside me, and read the testament out before the heirs. Then I burn the marriage certificate, and the marriage ends at the grave. Starting price: six hundred thousand dollars.
This morning, the Crane heir drowned in his own pool. Twenty-eight, obscenely rich, not one word left behind. The family offered five million and a private jet. By my count — my seventeenth husband. By a wide margin, the handsomest.
I said "I do" to a corpse for the seventeenth time. Then I called for his last words.
Silence. Sixteen weddings, sixteen voices. Husband number seventeen had nothing to say.
Because my seventeenth husband just opened his eyes.

I lent my Bugatti to my secret boyfriend for clout. He repaid my trust by gifting my car to a scheming cheerleader, letting her publicly humiliate and frame me. The whole school mocked me as a poor garage keeper’s daughter, unaware I’m the hidden billionaire heiress behind the supercar. Now I’ll destroy his fake rich life and avenge every insult.

For three years, I deliberately suppressed my grades to rank under my boyfriend William, paving his way to our promised Cambridge exchange. I overheard him and my best friend Maddie confess they framed me for plagiarism in my past life, driving me to jump off the 38th floor, yet they still carried on an affair. They lied and ignored my pain afterward. Heartbroken, I secretly applied to Cambridge alone. The twist? My years of hiding my brilliance were never selfless sacrifice. I collected all their dirty secrets. I’m going to Cambridge not to flee, but to ruin every dream they cling to.

My husband bought a necklace for the woman who killed my mother.

When I saw my foster sister Rebecca Rebecca wearing that emerald necklace with Aaron at the party, I knew history would repeat itself. Seven years ago, my mother lost everything the same way—her husband, her dignity, and finally her life.

I wouldn't follow in her footsteps.

So after slapping Rebecca across the face, I told everyone I was divorcing him and walked out with my suitcase.

Rebecca thought she'd won again. Aaron thought I was just being hysterical.

Neither of them saw it coming—

This time, I'd make them pay.

Cancer was supposed to be my death sentence. Instead, it became my liberation.

I thought I had it all—wealth, status, a picture-perfect life in Greenwich's elite circles. Then came the diagnosis that would change everything: six months to live. But facing my final chapter, I uncovered a truth more devastating than any terminal illness—the man sleeping beside me was slowly killing my soul.

When you have nothing left to lose, you discover exactly how powerful you can become.

To please his mistress, Callum ordered me—pregnant—to dance barefoot in the black salt ice cellar.

When I stumbled back to the doorway to warm myself, the mistress covered her mouth and retched.

"I'm pregnant. I can't stand this death-stench of winter."

Only because I was a princess of the Winter Realm, born carrying frost in my veins.

Callum flew into a rage and had me locked inside a frost-crystal cage, sunk to the bottom of the ice well. No one was allowed to release me without his command.

"A princess of winter, afraid of the cold? What a joke!"

No matter how I struggled or begged, he couldn't have cared less. He and his mistress treated it as entertainment. And just like that, I froze to death at the bottom of that well.

What he didn't know was that although we winter-born are forged in bitter cold, when we carry a child, every drop of magic goes to protecting the baby. We have no defense left for ourselves. The very ice that shaped us becomes the thing that kills us.

Two days later, he was finally satisfied and ordered them to pull me up.

But I could never come back up again.

At the annual charity gala, I stood in the spotlight as the student representative.

My roommate, Harper, suddenly stormed the stage, publicly accusing me of being a sugar baby who seduced her father.

"That diamond necklace around her neck was bought with my dad's money!"

I instantly became public enemy number one. The crowd erupted into a frenzy of boos, and the administration, caving to the pressure, prepared to expel me on the spot.

Facing the out-of-control screaming and the countless live-stream cameras shoved in my face, I pulled out my phone and dialed the so-called "sugar daddy" right there in front of everyone.

"Dad," I said coldly. "Since when did I get a new 'sister'?"

On my anniversary flight to New York, fate sat my cheating husband's mistress right beside me.

Alice spent the entire trip gushing about "her Daniel" while wearing the sapphire ring he'd called "too vulgar" for his wife—me.

"She's so pathetic," Alice laughed, describing how Daniel planned to dump his "clingy" spouse. "Good riddance!"

If only she knew his "pathetic" wife was the billionaire secretly bankrolling his success.

At JFK, Daniel threw money at my feet and told me to disappear.

I smiled, dialed my investment firm, and watched his face crumble.

"Hello, darling. Your sugar mama just quit."

On our fifth anniversary, Caspian gifted me a luxury yacht bearing my name. Everyone said I was the luckiest woman alive.
But when I finally conceived his child and prepared to share the news, his mistress sent me photos—him cradling a baby she'd given him, his eyes filled with a tenderness I'd never seen.
Five years of waiting, five years of infertility—all an elaborate lie.
He once whispered in my ear: "Even if every man in the world betrays his wife, I never will. You're my life. Without you, I can't survive."
I quietly packed, left behind my pregnancy report and all the evidence, and drove away. Three hours later, he received the call: my car exploded on the highway. No survivors.
From that day on, the most powerful man in Valen City lost his mind completely.

"The Draganovs are moving on Celeste tonight. I'm taking her to the safe house. We'll do the claiming after this, Orla. I promise."
That's what my husband said the seventh time he chose Celeste over me.
Celeste. The girl he'd loved since before he had a wife to ignore.
The first time, she heard footsteps outside her window at two in the morning. Rafael sent his whole detail to sit on her house and left me at a meeting with two men who wanted our shipping routes and didn't like being told no. I came home with a bullet crease across my ribs. He apologized for a week.
The third time, someone tipped the cops on one of our warehouses and she got scared. He drove her upstate himself. I took a knife at the door because there was no one left standing in front of me.
By the sixth time, he didn't explain. He just texted the doctor to be ready for me and left.
He's a Don. When the guns come out, he walks away clean. I'm the one wearing his name where everyone can see it. The one they aim at first. Six scars say so.
Every time, he held my face after and promised. Founders' Day. In front of every family in the city. Once Celeste was safe. I believed him six times.
So when the seventh time came and he chose her again, my bags were already packed.
There won't be an eighth time he sends me out to die for her. Next time, there won't be a wife left for him to send.

The day I closed another major deal, my fiancé, the CEO, smiles and tells me the credit and the bonus are going to the new intern.

I watch him lean in close to her, laughing, and something in me just stops caring enough to fight for it.

I sign the transfer request and ship myself off to the most useless department in the company.

What I don't expect is that a few days later, the same man who never looked twice at anyone beneath him is going to be on his knees begging me to come back.

I took a bullet for my husband five years ago. He married me in the ICU before the anesthesia wore off.
Raffaele Santoro—heir to the most powerful mafia family in Italy—told me I was his everything. He bought a castle and named it after me. He reserved a grave beside his parents so we'd lie together for eternity.
While I was pumping my body full of hormones for our fourth round of IVF, he was across town watching his childhood sweetheart give birth to twin boys.
He named one of them Dante—the name I'd chosen for our future son.
The night I found out, I was seven weeks pregnant with his child.
I didn't tell him.
I called my best friend and said: I need everyone to think I'm dead.

My husband never wore condoms with me. Said they ruined it for him. So I swallowed birth control pills for four years until they made me sick.
Then I found a half-empty box in his glove compartment. And a thong under his backseat.
That wasn't even the worst part.
The necklace I'd made from my mother's ashes—the one I'd been grieving over losing for a year—was dangling between his twenty-three-year-old trainee's tits. He stole it from our bedroom and gave it to her.
She caught me staring. She smiled.
When I confronted him, he slapped me. Then drove off with her crying in his passenger seat.
Her friends came to my hospital with a livestream, demanding I apologize for "bullying" her.
I led them straight to the parking garage.
They found her on a stretcher. Legs wrapped around my husband. No condom.
The whole internet watched.

The stepbrother I grew up with was a golden boy, a star varsity quarterback everyone had high hopes for.
But for a street-level delinquent, he abandoned his Ivy League future.
Desperate to pull his life back on track, I tried to expose his toxic girlfriend.
Yet, he hated me to the bone for it.
For her, he ruthlessly dragged our family into the crossfire of a deadly gang dispute, causing us all to meet a violent, tragic end.
I never expected fate to rewind the clock.
To give me a second chance.

Everyone knows my fiancé, Alex, is the kind of madman who would call off a billion-dollar merger just for me.
For years, he convinced the world I was his one and only, risking the wrath of the board just to keep me by his side.
But that kind of devotion is mostly for show.
In reality, he already had a legal wife—and a baby on the way, carrying his blood.
When I learned the truth, I went straight to my best friend.
"Maya, help me stage a car accident. One where the body can't be identified," I said calmly. "It's the only way I can truly escape Alex."
The night I disappeared, he spent hours kneeling by the burned-out wreck.
He destroyed a high-profile marriage alliance, drove his pregnant wife to madness, and became a complete wreck himself.
But when he finally found me—
He realized I didn't love him anymore.

After the crash, my husband, Darius, lost his ability to speak. The trauma to his cervical spine left him unable to even lift a finger.
The doctors said his only remaining way to communicate was to nod, or to shake his head.
Sitting by his hospital bed, I finally asked the question that had been eating away at me for three months.
"When the crash happened... were you on your way to see your mistress?"
Darius stared dead at me. Then, slowly, he nodded.

Ninety-nine times.

I was sent to the punishment chamber ninety-nine times by my mafia don fiancé.

Each time, he watched through bulletproof glass with cold, detached eyes—watching me being deprived of sleep, injected with drugs, tortured until I was barely clinging to life.

"Elara, you're paying for what you did to the Mancuso family."

For the sake of sweet, innocent Yvette—his precious savior—he personally destroyed everything I had.

After the ninety-ninth time, the doctor handed me a critical condition notice. I stopped begging, signed the confession, and vanished completely with my broken body.

The result? When the truth finally came to light, the ruthless don went completely insane.

At my boyfriend's exhibition party, I went into anaphylactic shock after eating the cake Mia handed me.
I stumbled, reaching for my EpiPen, only for Mia to snatch it out of my hand and crush it under her heel.
"Give... it back..." I choked out, grabbing onto my boyfriend's arm.
He just shook me off, disgusted. "Chloe, can you stop being so dramatic? It's not that big a deal."
"Yeah, Mia's basically family," one of his friends chimed in. "You're being way too jealous and controlling."
Nobody was listening to me anymore.
With the last of my strength, I pressed down on the hidden button on the side of my watch — the one I'd never had to use before.

At last season's Grand Olfactory Gala, Vivienne Harrow presented my formula before I could reach the stage.
I confronted her. She asked where my proof was.
I had nothing. The formula had never left my head — no notes, no records, nothing. I didn't know how she'd gotten it.
I died not knowing.
Then I opened my eyes, and she was already reaching for me.
"Not this time."
I stepped back.

Ten years ago, my mate faked his death in the war and ran off with his childhood sweetheart.
No goodbye. No contact since.
All he left me were two things — a debt of six hundred and eighty thousand, and a notice declaring him lost, stamped four years later by people who'd never met him.
The bank took our den. I moved into a shared burrow-flat at the edge of the settlement.
Three jobs after hours. Sold blood. Scrubbed latrines. Tested tonics for the healers until my nose stopped working right.
Ten years to pay off the debt. A desk at the Missing and Fallen Registry Office, once the ceasefire finally came.
My first case file was a man the law had already declared dead.
He said he'd been young and reckless. Walked out. Never looked back.
Now his family's land was due a war reparations payout, and he needed his name restored to collect it.
I stared at the name on the form. Recognized it instantly.
Smiled.
"Insufficient documentation. Application denied."

My long-lost twin sister has returned.
The first thing she did was demand to marry my fiancé.
Jayden, murmuring apologies, held her close as they walked into the city hall.
My family urged me to be generous, saying, "After all she’s been through, you owe her this much. You've had a good life all these years—why not let her have this?"
Until the day of their wedding, no one could find me.
But what they didn't know was that my body had been drifting at sea for over ten days.

I took the blame for my wife and went to jail, thinking I was protecting our family.

Five years later, when I was released from prison, my mansion was confiscated, my company fell into the hands of my younger brother, and the woman I loved with all my heart was nestled in my brother's arms, mocking my misfortune.

They had been having an affair for a long time, and even my imprisonment was a conspiracy meticulously planned by this despicable couple! What makes me even more furious is that my precious daughter was abandoned on the street like a stray dog, and subjected to beatings and bullying by their illegitimate son .

They thought that by draining my blood, they could forever condemn me to oblivion.

But they forgot that I was once an unparalleled genius in the business world.

“I’ve lived with that guilt every single day.”

Lila swallowed hard. Her world felt disoriented with memories of her sister, the lingering grief, the recent attacks all blended into a suffocating haze.

Beckett continued, quieter now. “I am twenty-six years old. Young and naive as a professor. And this campus...” He gave a hollow laugh. “It’s full of people who would love to get rid of me. Students who resent strict grading. Colleagues who think I got my position too early. Some who believe I’m arrogant. Some who simply don’t like me.”

His eyes sharpened, steady but tired. “So yes. Anyone could be the killer. And anyone could be trying to frame me. Or frame Damian. Or frame anyone close to this case.”

Lila’s heartbeat grew loud in her ears.

Her mind raced.

Damian said Beckett wasn’t the killer. Mara said Beckett was suspicious.
Mercer said Beckett was dangerous.

At Halden University, the murders follow a deadly rhythm, one red-haired girl every month, each found with a single rose placed in her hand, each killing more vicious than the last.

Lila Rowan arrives a year after her sister’s death, determined to uncover what the police can’t: the identity of the Rose Killer. But the deeper she digs, the more her world begins to tilt. Her sister’s voice slips into her dreams, repeating a warning Lila can’t ignore:

He’s charming. He’s handsome. And he never lets go.

Now every man around her feels like a threat.
The professor whose gaze lingers a heartbeat too long.
The best friend who is trying to protect her.
The other male students who claim to know her sister.

The roses keep appearing.
The bodies keep escalating. And someone is watching Lila, waiting for their moment to strike.

He’s the last of his kind. The king in a world where no one bows. The predator in a city full of prey. And he says I belong to him.

I thought I could ruin him.
I thought knowing his secret, that the city’s beloved billionaire is actually the ruthless mafia king in the shadows meant I had power over him.

But I was wrong.

Because Leander Vekaris doesn’t just want to silence me.
He wants to break me.
Strip me.
Claim me.

He says my bloodline is the only one that can save his dying race. That I was born to bear his heir, to carry his mark.
That he’s waited too long to let a weak little human like me say no.

And every time he touches me—every cruel word, every brutal kiss, every whispered promise to ruin me if I run—
…I started to believe him.

Because under his cruelty, there’s something else in his eyes.
Something dark and dangerous… but desperate too.
Like maybe he hates needing me as much as I hate needing him.
And maybe…
I’ll let him destroy me anyway.

Even if loving a monster like him might cost me everything.

Rashel, an overly supportive wife and Luna to Alpha Seth, who helped her husband build his pack to become the envy of all, thought her life was finally about to take the best turn she had always hoped for. But nothing prepared her for the fall from grace to grass fate had for her.

It is tradition that any Alpha without an heir at age 35 would lose his pack to the next best contender. And in this case, Alpha Seth's younger brother, who was an arch enemy, was the next best available contender, and he was willing to do just anything to make sure his brother, Seth, lost the pack to him.

Disgraced and forced out of her pack after her husband found out he had a second fated mate, Rashel left with the one thing Seth needed to retain his pack – Her pregnancy.

She was given a second fated mate, who turned out to be the Alpha King, Jethro. The one man who held the entire werewolf nation in his palm.

Rashel thought that life had given her and her baby a second chance, since Alpha Jethro loved her to the moon and back. But what she didn't know was that her misery had only just begun, because not only did Seth regret letting her go, but now he desperately needed her and his child—the heir to his pack—back in his life. But this would be over Alpha Jethro's dead body.

Rashel is caught in the middle of an impending war between the man she once loved and the man with whom she gradually built a new life.

Now, she has to find out where her heart truly lies and whom she wants to spend the rest of her life with.

"If you don't lift that shirt in three seconds, Thorne, I'll rip it off you myself."

The deep, gravelly voice sent a shock of pure terror straight to my core.

Atlas Vanderbilt. The Alpha King of Northbridge Academy. He looked like a dark, jagged cliffside, and for three years, he had made my life a living hell. Everyone thought I was Jace Thorne, the pathetic, weak boy on the hockey team. Nobody knew I was wearing a tight compression binder to hide my breasts.

Now, we were locked in our dorm room. And he was in his rut.

His skin was flushed a deep, angry red. Sweat dripped down his sprawling tattoos. The room was suffocating with the heavy, intoxicating scent of burnt cedar and dark spices. He was trembling violently, his wolf fighting to take over.

"You smell... weird," he growled, his nostrils flaring as he leaned in, sniffing the air near my neck.

My blood ran cold.

"You smell like an Omega in heat," he whispered. "Sweet. Like vanilla and panic. Why the hell do you smell like a girl, Thorne?"

Before I could run, his massive hands grabbed my waist. He pulled me down hard, pinning both of my wrists above my head with just one of his hands. His scorching hot body hovered directly over me. I was completely trapped.

He buried his face deep into the crook of my neck, inhaling sharply. His icy blue eyes turned completely black with raw desire.

"You don't act like a boy," Atlas whispered, his rough thumb tracing my bottom lip as his massive chest pressed against my hidden curves. "And you definitely don't feel like one."

I loved Finley for two years.
Until 1:00 AM on a Tuesday, when his best friend, Orion, sent me a half-naked photo and a jarring voice note."
If I actually bag her, don't go flipping out on me. A deal's a deal."
I booked the first flight out to confront him, only to catch the boy I loved naked and thrusting into another woman.
But that wasn't even the part that broke me.
When my roommate bypassed the hockey team's private Discord server, I found a channel named: #locker-room-bets.
There was my boyfriend, typing the words that shattered my world: "She's boring... She's like a lost puppy, you can't shake her... Play with her all you want."
My loyalty and two years of my life were nothing but a sick joke.
The entire hockey team had put money down on when I would willingly spread my legs for his best friend.

Warning! Mature Contents!

Excerpt

"You belong to me, Sheila. I alone am capable of making you feel this way. Your moans and body belong to me. Your soul and your body are all mine!"


Alpha Killian Reid, the most dreaded Alpha in all of the North, wealthy, powerful and widely feared in the supernatural world, was the envy of all other packs. He was thought to have it all... power, fame, wealth and favor from the moon goddess, little was it known to his rivals that he has been under a curse, which has been kept a secret for so many years, and only the one with the gift of the moon goddess can lift the curse.

Sheila, the daughter of Alpha Lucius who was an arch enemy to Killian, had grown up with so much hatred, detest and maltreatment from her father. She was the fated mate of Alpha Killian.

He refused to reject her, yet he loathed her and treated her poorly, because he was in love with another woman, Thea. But one of these two women was the cure to his curse, while the other was an enemy within. How would he find out? Let's find out in this heart-racing piece, filled with suspense, steamy romance and betrayal.

“I, Alpha Kai Blackwood, reject you, Elias Thorne, as my mate.”

The words tore through the silent crowd like a blade. I stood there, the unwanted, wolf-less omega, watching the man I loved choose a perfect, blonde she-wolf over me. Just the night before, he had pinned me against the wall, his voice rough with desire, whispering that he would keep me. He lied.

Humiliation burned my skin as I ran into the snowy woods, vowing never to return. I thought the pain of the broken bond would kill me. But a month later, living among humans, a healer’s words shattered my world: “You are pregnant, Elias.”

Impossible. Male omegas don’t carry pups. Unless... unless the legends of the White Wolf were true.

I returned to Silverfang not for him, but for answers. But the moment I stepped through the door, my scent hit him. Kai stormed into the room, his amber eyes blazing with a mix of fury and something darker. He cornered me, his hand hovering over my flat stomach.

“Why did you come back?” he growled, trapping me.
I looked him dead in the eye. “Because I’m pregnant, Kai. And it’s yours.”

The room went dead silent. His father, the Alpha, stepped forward with a sneer. “Lies! A male cannot—”
“Touch him,” Kai snarled, his voice vibrating with lethal Alpha power, “and I will rip your throat out.”

One hundred years married to Everett, and I've learned one thing: whenever he wants to push me into a corner, he throws the mate bond dissolution agreement in my face. Whenever my parents want me to cave, they hold the family name over my head.

They've always wanted the same thing — for me to hand over everything I have to my twin sister Rosalie, who's been sick her whole life.

I've fought it. I've grieved over it.

But when the doctor slid the diagnosis across the desk — Blood Depletion Syndrome, late stage, less than two weeks left — something in me just went quiet.

What's the point of fighting when you're already dead?

My name is Jonah Flint, and I sell fish at the Havana docks.
Five years have passed, and everyone still treats me like a dead dog that can still breathe.
Until I saw the wanted poster on the execution ground—red hair, green eyes, and a scar on his face.
My captain is going to be hanged.
I put down the fish knife and dug the trident out of the cellar.
Listen up, Caribbean Sea—the old monster that has been silent for five years is here to collect its debts.

"Daddy... so cold... and it hurts..." When my precious daughter Mia whispered these words in her weak voice, my heart felt like it was being torn apart.
The life-saving medicine was just ten meters away, but that damned anti-magic barrier had become an insurmountable chasm between life and death.
What made me even more furious was that the vampire guarding the gate not only extorted my life savings, but also demanded I kneel like a dog and lick his boots before he would open the door.
He didn't know that if the door stayed closed, it wouldn't just be my daughter who died—his son and mother would perish too!

With one week left until the wedding, Henry Jones asked me to reschedule the date—for one simple reason:
“On our wedding day, I’m taking Ann to the hospital for her prenatal checkup.”
Ann is the widow of his brother Ethan. She’s also my half-sister. In that private room, they laughed at me for being “almost thirty and desperate to get married.”
Ann put on an innocent face. “If Rory is really in such a rush… I can reschedule my appointment.”
I wanted to break up, and Henry frowned as he lectured me:
“As her future sister-in-law, why do you have to fight her over this one day?”
I asked him, “Do you even remember what Friday is?”
He coaxed me softly: “One day earlier or later—what’s the difference?” I nodded and said “Fine,” thinking I could still swallow it.
Until I pressed my fingerprint to enter his office and overheard Ann questioning him about inheritance, and Henry answered under his breath, “It won’t come to that—I won’t let Rory get pregnant with my child.”
That was the moment I u

"Spread your legs for us, baby," Khuraan growled, voice rough and commanding. "We want to see what’s ours."

My breath caught.

Zarkhan leaned down, his breath hot against my throat. "You said you could handle all three of us. Prove it."

"And don’t even think about faking it," Hakkan added, his tone a silky threat. "I’ll know. I always know."

Their eyes bore into me—three alphas, three predators circling their prey. The air crackled with dominance, with a heat that drenched me from the inside out.

Khuraan's fingers grazed my cheek, tilting my chin upward. "Touch yourself, baby. Show us how badly you need to be claimed."

My heart thundered in my chest. Every inch of my skin burned, every nerve tuned to the weight of their stares. I was trembling—part fear, part hunger.

"Say it," Zarkhan hissed. "Say you want us watching. Say you want to fall apart for your alphas."

A moan escaped me before I could stop it.

"I want..." My voice shook. "I want you to watch me."

"Good girl," Hakkan murmured. "Now don’t stop until we tell you to."

Giselle Blanco thought she’d escaped the claws of a possessive Alpha when she fled Omaha. But running straight into the arms of three dominant, dangerously intoxicating stepbrothers? That wasn’t part of the plan.

Khuraan—the bold, ruthless mafia Alpha of the East—wants to see how far she’ll bend before she breaks.
Zarkhan—the silent storm ruling the West—wants to bury himself in her until she forgets her own name.
And Hakkan—the seductive doctor with lethal instincts—knows just how to read her every secret desire... even the ones she’s too ashamed to whisper.

They want her to kneel. To beg. To surrender.
But Giselle has no intention of being claimed... until her own body betrays her.

My husband Lucius said: 'My real wife has returned.'
To keep him, for a month I clung to him, making love passionately...

"Is this your way of seducing me?" Clifton looked at the woman before him, wearing only a thin nightgown, her perfect curves exposed to his eyes.
"I admit, I'm attracted to you." Clifton suddenly lowered his head, his thin lips biting down on my collarbone, his fingers trailing down from my full chest, slipping between my thighs.
I was pinned down on the bed by Miranda, feeling the pleasure he brought to my body.
"Be good and let me in." Clifton thrust into me forcefully.
After suffering betrayal from her ex-husband and cousin, Miranda married the disfigured and disabled Clifton as his contract wife to cover her company's losses.
But an accident led Miranda to discover that Clifton was neither disfigured nor disabled—he was actually the underground king who controlled the entire city.
Miranda became afraid and prepared to leave this terrifying man, but Clifton kept dragging her back: "The contract is void. I want not only your body, but also your heart."
This time, will she truly fall in love with this dangerous man?