Cerita Pendek

After severe trauma wiped my past memories, I spent a blissful year with my fated mate, Alpha Rhys. One day, while gathering herbs near our pack borders, I was stopped by a lost little pup. He frowned, his tone icy. "Father sent me to bring you home. Haven't you caused enough trouble?" Amused, I knelt to pat his head. "Little one, have you mistaken me for someone else?" He dodged my hand, his voice sharp with impatience. "Stop pretending. If you behave, I might let you tell me bedtime stories from now on." Though I was bewildered, sensing he was a lost pup from a neighboring pack, I decided to take him back for his own safety. We crossed into the neighboring territory. At the entrance of a somber, oppressive manor stood an Alpha, his posture rigid and his eyes sinister. Seeing me, his expression flickered, but his scent flared with contempt. "Cora. So you finally decided to crawl back?" He reached out, trying to drag me through the door. But I wrenched myself free, hitting the emergency dial on my phone. "Rhys, I think I've run into a pack of mad wolves!"

After I was forced to give up my mate-to-be, Garrett, to my adopted sister, Lilith, for what felt like the hundredth time—always for "the future of the Pack"—the Luna cornered me on the day of Lilith's bonding ceremony. Her words were sharp as claws: she told me that despite our blood, Lilith was the only one she truly considered her cherished daughter. She explained that since Lilith also loved Garrett, my presence was an obstacle, and a mother had to clear the path for her true pup. My father, the Alpha, added that my talents as an Aura Weaver were too gentle, that I lacked the necessary primal aggression of a wolf. That, he admitted with chilling indifference, was why he'd framed me, leading the council of elders to declare me "Unclean," effectively stripping me of my rank and any right to challenge for leadership. It was all because he couldn't stand seeing his own illegitimate son, Kian, overshadowed by me. I trembled as the Alpha's oppressive scent crushed down on me, the dominance in the air making it hard to breathe. "Why are you only telling me this now?" I rasped. With a voice dripping false sympathy, the Luna explained they had been afraid I wouldn't agree before. But now, with my inner wolf failing and me left with nothing, she pitied me—a feeling she claimed was only natural for a "compassionate mother." The Alpha nodded in agreement. "If you have a problem with it," he snarled softly, "you can challenge me. Or declare yourself a Rogue. The choice is yours."

After my rebirth, I secretly changed my intended mate from the childhood friend who betrayed me in my past life to our Alpha's rebellious son. As the leader of the Argent clan, my dad was surprised by this change, but he still accepted my choice. In my previous life, when my dad asked who I most wanted to bond with, I had blushed and whispered Caleb Thorne's name. My dad had nodded. "Caleb grew up with you. You're both from pure bloodlines, well-matched in power. I'm sure he will treat you well." Later, Caleb and I held our bonding ceremony. The ritual was grand and solemn; even Alpha Alaric himself came to offer his blessings. But less than half a year after our bonding, Caleb applied for patrol duty on the border, claiming he wanted to contribute to the pack's safety. Not only did he abandon me to face his parents alone, but he also severed our mind-link after my dad was framed for treason against the pack. Just when I thought I couldn't bear the pain of my dad's imprisonment, I received the devastating news of Caleb's death in a bloody battle with rogue wolves. Under the double blow, my will to live shattered. I walked into a silver trap, letting the poison end my life. I never expected that, 40 years after my death, an elderly werewolf couple would visit the Moon Goddess Altar. Caleb, who was supposed to be dead, stood before my memorial, holding my cousin, Lila Vance. "Brandy, I'm sorry I deceived you. I only bonded with you to meet the clan's expectations. Lila is the one I've always loved." "Brandy, this is all my fault. I'm just asking you to stop tormenting Lila. If you have any resentment, direct it at me." So their love was that deep... To spend the rest of his life with Lila, Caleb had faked his own death to escape. He was even superstitious enough to believe that the curse afflicting Lila was my vengeful spirit. Once I learned the truth, my lingering obsession finally shattered, and I let myself dissolve into nothingness. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my dad asked me who I wanted as my mate.

To let his childhood sweetheart win the piano competition, my boyfriend deliberately locked me on the rooftop the day before the final. He stared at me and said in a low voice, 'You'll have many more opportunities in the future. What's the harm in letting her have this one?' Later, to allow his childhood sweetheart to get a spot in the orchestra, he went as far as to break my fingers himself. I angrily demanded to know why he would do such a thing, when we were the ones in a relationship. But he said, 'Clara Sterling, Evelyn's mother saved my life back then. I must fulfill this wish for her.' But what he didn't know was that for me, losing my hands was like losing my life. When I decided to stop loving him, he smashed his own hands, just to beg for my forgiveness.

When the yacht capsized in the storm, there was only one spot left on the life raft. My fiancé hesitantly reached out to me, but after hearing me say, "Go save Lily," the tension in his face melted into relief. He pulled his old flame onto the raft without a second glance, leaving me to die on the sinking ship. In my past life, he saved me first only to protect his reputation, then spent the rest of his life tormenting me in atonement for the woman he truly loved. He gripped my hand and vowed, "Coralie, I have to marry you!" On our wedding night, he smashed a wine glass against the wall, embedding shards of glass in my leg. He sneered, "Lily was in a thousand times more pain when she died! This is all your fault!" When I demanded a divorce, he aimed his sports car toward a cliff. "We owe her our lives to repay that debt! What makes you think you can just run away?" When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the yacht capsized. This time, I stepped back, giving his old flame the chance to survive.

What happens when a drug addicted girl and campus star player Alpha become mate?

In my past life, at my bonding ceremony with Declan, his "disabled" lover of ten years, Seraphine, claimed the silver poison was attacking her heart and that she was on the brink of death. I grabbed Declan as he was about to bolt, using my knowledge as a healer to insist that Seraphine's symptoms were fake, that she had pulled this stunt countless times. I persuaded Declan to stay and we completed the ceremony, but that very night, word came of Seraphine's "death." A year later, during the final days of my pregnancy, when my powers were at their weakest, Declan lured me into a trap of silver runes. He roared, his eyes bloodshot, that if I hadn't stopped him that day, Seraphine wouldn't have died. "Avalon, you owe her a life." As I lay dying, Seraphine, who was supposed to be dead, appeared before me. She mocked me, a cruel smirk twisting her lips as she revealed that her supposed death had been nothing but a calculated lie, a pathetic farce designed to steal him away. "The one who's really going to die is you." In despair, the silver energy consumed me, killing me along with my unborn pup. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the altar of the bonding ceremony. When the news of Seraphine's supposed relapse came again, Declan rushed out without a moment's hesitation. This time, I didn't stop him. I just watched him go, my gaze cold. All the werewolves were waiting to see how I would salvage this farce. I calmly removed the moonstone necklace that symbolized our union and said to the Pack's Elders: "Since he can't leave that Omega, then I'll let him lose me forever. I, Avalon Vance, hereby sever the mate bond with Declan Shaw. My path lies elsewhere now, far beyond this territory, as the Royal Healer for the Lycan King."

Fifteen minutes until City Hall closed its doors at five. At the last possible second, my fiancé, Grayson, and I were scrambling up the steps. Our friends cheered from the bottom. "Get in there, Chloe! This is the eighth damn time. Let's make this one stick!" My best friend, Maya, helped me straighten my veil, her own eyes already red-rimmed. Just as we reached the entrance, a voice called out from behind us—Grayson’s “sister,” Tessa. "Wait, Grayson!" She held up a telltale blue box from a luxury jeweler, her face a mask of apology. "They engraved the wrong anniversary date on the silver frame I ordered for you guys. I have to run to the flagship store on the corner and get it exchanged, right now." My steps faltered. Grayson stopped dead. "Okay, take your time." Tessa shot me an apologetic smile, though something in her eyes didn't quite match. "Chloe, don't worry. I'll be right back." "I special-ordered this frame for you two. It has to be perfect, you know, for good luck." With that, she casually handed a shopping bag to Grayson. "Hold this for me." He took it without a second thought. A sudden silence fell over our group. The smiles vanished from our friends' faces. I stared at him. "Grayson, they stop admitting people at five." "If we go in now, we can just make it." Grayson frowned. "Don't be so tense. I'm right here. A few minutes won't make a difference." I watched him standing by the curb, patiently consoling Tessa as she fumbled in her purse. A dry laugh escaped me. I lowered my head, pulled out my phone, and sent a text. [Remember how you joked that if my eighth attempt at marriage failed, it would be your turn?] [Come to City Hall. Before five.]

At my engagement party with Preston, I went back upstairs to our hotel suite to find a misplaced lipstick. As I passed a guest room, I heard faint moans from inside. On instinct, I pulled up the security app on my phone—the one Preston had installed in our guest rooms, supposedly to “protect his fiancée’s safety.” On the screen, my intern, Chloe, had her arms wrapped around Preston’s neck, her voice breathy, begging him to be gentle. Preston had her pinned against the wall, his broad back blocking the camera’s view of their faces. His hand gripped her hip—hard enough to bruise—and his voice was a low, dangerous rumble. He murmured something against her skin, a poor attempt at soothing her, reminding her that she was about to leave for Antarctica and they wouldn’t see each other for six months. The image hit me like a bucket of ice water. My stomach plummeted into my shoes, and the blood rushed in my ears like static. After what felt like an eternity standing frozen in the hallway, my fingernails digging crescent moons into my palms, I silently turned and walked back downstairs to the party. I slipped the enormous Harry Winston engagement ring off my finger and dropped it into the crystal glass at the very top of the champagne tower. Then I stepped out onto the terrace, took out my phone, and called my advisor. "Dr. Whitaker," I said calmly into the receiver, "let me go to McMurdo Station in Chloe's place."

The day Julian proposed to me was like a meticulously planned disaster. The red roses meant to blanket the venue had already wilted by the time they arrived. The specially prepared romantic playlist had devolved into jarring static. Even the giant screen that was meant to display a montage of our seven years together was now looping intimate photos of Julian and his intern, Hailey. Hailey, the intern behind this mess, clutched Julian's arm tightly, her eyes red-rimmed. "Julian, I really didn't mean to..." When it came time for the ring, the diamond was so laughably small it couldn't even slide over my knuckle. Hailey peeked out from behind Julian, winking playfully at him. "I guess I just assumed every girl's fingers were as slender as mine, so I told the jeweler my ring size." "You're not mad at me, are you?" Julian just affectionately ruffled her hair, murmuring, "You're such a little troublemaker." Someone in the crowd laughed and teased, "Julian, did you just use this proposal as an excuse to get Hailey a ring?" Hailey blushed, explaining that Julian had been too busy and had put her in charge of all the arrangements. Then she covered her mouth and chuckled, feigning concern as she looked at me. "Oh, Ava... as an artist, your hands are your most precious tools, aren't they? I should have realized they might be a bit more... weathered than mine. I feel just awful." The people around us burst into a roar of laughter. I stared at the unconcealable pride in Hailey's eyes and took a step forward. These hands, roughened by charcoal and turpentine, had another practical use.

In the tenth year of being together with the playboy Kian Hawthorne, he chartered a luxurious private cruise for seven days and seven nights for her. After partying wildly all night, Elara Waverly took the Supplementary Gold Card Kian Hawthorne gave her to buy herself a glass of Lemonade. With a "beep," the machine suddenly issued an error warning. The attendant glanced at the computer and said to her politely, "Miss, the name on your Supplementary Gold Card is incorrect." Elara Waverly froze for a moment, then spoke, "That's impossible. Did you make a mistake? I have always used this gold card before." The attendant glanced at her again and finally turned the screen toward her, "I am not mistaken, miss. This gold card is indeed Mr. Hawthorne's Supplementary Gold Card, but..." She gestured with her hand for Elara Waverly to look— "It is just that the name registered on this Supplementary Gold Card is this Miss Sinclair." Elara Waverly's mind suddenly exploded with a loud "buzz." Simply because this person was the arch-nemesis Kian Hawthorne had mentioned in front of her countless times, the woman he claimed he would never fall in love with in this lifetime.

I regained consciousness in the searing agony of claw and fang. My chosen mate, Landon Cole, held me in his arms, his warm breath on my neck as he hoarsely swore an eternal vow in my ear, as if he wasn't the one who had just abandoned me at our bonding ceremony. Behind him, the Omega, Faye Shaw, scowled, her eyes burning with jealousy and resentment. The air was still thick with the cloying, cheap scent of her arousal. I let him play his part, because the vicious attack from the rogue wolves had unexpectedly shattered the curse that plagued my bloodline. I hadn't lost my memory; on the contrary, I remembered everything. I remembered that this Beta before me was the third mate I had chosen, and by far the most arrogant and despicable of them all. And he still didn't know that my two true, forgotten fated mates—two Lycan Kings—had already sensed my awakening and were heading toward my territory, their primal, intoxicating scents already drifting on the wind.

At my engagement party to Marco Rinaldi, I stood outside the penthouse suite. Through the heavy oak door, I could still make out the sounds—the cloying, theatrical sobs of Bianca, the bodyguard I’d handpicked myself, and the heavy, ragged panting of my fiancé. Marco was promising the woman in his arms that once he controlled the combined assets of our families, she would be the true matriarch of the Rinaldi family, even if I held the title. The betrayal, sharp and cold as an icicle, pierced my heart, killing whatever soft feelings I had left for him. My face a mask of indifference, I turned away. I wrenched the massive diamond ring—the symbol of our families' alliance—from my finger and placed it on the silver tray held by the terrified doorman. I immediately dialed my uncle, the family's Consigliere, Lucio. "Lucio, I'm handling the Sicily business. Personally. Initiate the transfer protocols immediately."

Kaelen Chase was my father's first love's son. On the day of my mother's funeral, everyone crowded around my smiling father, congratulating him on taking over the company. I went through my mother's phone and found she'd called my father dozens of times before she died. All she got back was a photo from his first love，a picture my father took of her and her son wearing a watch worth a million. I gripped the phone, forced a smile, and called Kaelen "brother." Then I turned around and slapped him across the face. He didn't fight back. Every time I hurt him, he just looked at me with sad eyes and closed them like he was in pain. So in secret, whenever that woman made things hard for me, I took it out on her precious son. I watched the whip land on his skin. I watched him hold back the pain. I grabbed his throat and called him a pathetic mutt. I loved watching the tears roll down his cheeks He'd just grab my sleeve and whisper: "Aria, don't hate me. I'll make up for what my mother did." Later, after I got my revenge, I left without looking back. But Kaelen，the one who always did what he was told，snapped. He sped after me and blocked my car. In the pouring rain, he grabbed my arm, voice cracked: "Why do you use me and throw me away? Aria, I've got nothing left..."

I took a high-end “Voice Girlfriend” gig to pay off my debts. The job was simple enough: keep my voice soft, sweet, and just suggestive enough to make lonely men forget they were alone. Most of my clients came and went. Then one man started spending more than everyone else combined. My top spender dropped ten grand on a single request—he wanted me in his ear every night until he fell asleep. So every evening, I put on the voice he liked. Lower. Softer. Nothing like the way I sounded in real life. I teased him, whispered to him, and learned exactly what made that cold, quiet man stay on the line a little longer. Then one night, I thought I’d muted myself. I dropped the sweet voice completely and muttered in my normal tone, “If that bastard rejects my dissertation proposal one more time, I’m pouring this entire beaker over his head.” A low laugh came through my headphones. “Interesting.” I froze. “You can barely hold a beaker steady in my lab,” he said coldly, “but behind a screen, you’re quite the performer.” My phone slipped from my hand and smacked me in the face. I knew that voice. My mysterious top spender was my untouchable, cold-blooded supervisor—the same man who had rejected my dissertation proposal three times in a row.

For three years, I had a secret affair with my uncle—Alpha Lucius. We explored every inch of desire, every way two people could belong to each other. I thought it was love. So when I found out I was pregnant, I ran to him without hesitation. But the moment his first love returned, I understood—I was just a stand-in. He sent me away. Said we were over. All because he wanted to give her a grand wedding. Five years later, I returned to the Blackthorn Pack… with a child. Alpha Lucius stared at me in shock. “Whose child is that?” I pulled the boy closer into my arms. “My son. He’s five.” Then I looked down and said softly, “Say hello, Liam.”

He thought she was just a scentless stray he could cage and break. He didn't know she was the only queen capable of bringing his empire to its knees. When Eileen presented on her eighteenth birthday, she got Slade—the ruthless Alpha of Bloodfang MC. Slade didn't want a mate. He wanted a trophy wife in public. To cement his cartel alliance, he kissed another woman in front of Eileen, struck her across the face before fifty pack leaders, and left her burning with the agony of a betrayal mark. Left for dead, Eileen walked away into the storm. But blood doesn't lie. Deep inside her veins sleeps the ancient Royal Silver Wolf—a dormant power that answers to no master. When Eileen returns, she isn't looking for apologies. She’s coming for retribution. And this time, no Alpha will ever make her small again.

When I received Mother's Soul-Call urging me to return, Master and I had just finished fooling around in the hot spring. The steam was swirling, and the storm of our passion had settled. He gently lifted me out of the water, tied on my Bodice, and dried my hair. Yet when he spoke, his tone was exceptionally indifferent: "If there is a matter in The Azure Hills, you should go back first, and you need not come looking for me anymore in the future." Thinking he was angry, I hastily grasped his hand and said, "I won't leave." But he pried my fingers open one by one, and in his dark eyes, after the lust had faded, only coldness remained. "I am getting married." His fingertips gently traced across my bare back, but his tone when he spoke was cold and distant: "Your Mistress is different from you. You are a Fox Spirit, promiscuous by nature. She is afraid of pain, so I only used you to practice." "Now that the wedding date is approaching, if you stay here any longer, your Mistress will be displeased."