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#R18
#MAGIC
#WEAKTOSTRONG
#DARK
#SURVIVAL
#WEREWOLF
#APOCALYPSE
#FATEDLOVE
#FASTPACED
#ABUSEDFL

Love at World's End

[World's End: 02:23:59:53] Lauren Whittaker thought she had enough to deal with: a ruthless stepfamily, a neglectful father, and a life of endless work. But when a mysterious countdown virus appears on her phone, ticking toward what seems like the end of the world, things go from bad to apocalyptic. As society crumbles and terrifying monsters emerge, it seems no one is safe. Not even the military can hold back the tide of destruction. Just when Lauren thinks it can't get any worse, a blood-soaked stranger appears before her, speaking a language she doesn't understand. But there's one problem. She's seen him before... in her dreams. Kylar's pack has only one route for survival: to escape their dying world, as prophecy foretold. There's only one problem... Their ancient prophet has passed. In the new world, they enter into unfolding chaos. Monsters pour in from their world and others. It's a fight to survive, but there's hope. This new world is a land of abundant resources. He just needs to find their new prophet, and they can all survive. But when he does, everything's wrong. For one, she isn't Lycan. She's human. And he's inexplicably drawn to her, wanting to claim her for his own. Chaos is unfolding. Bodies line the streets. Lauren's fight for survival becomes a battle against fate itself. What secrets do her dreams hold, and why does this man want to keep her for his own...? -- [NOTICE: JANUARY 2024] LAWE will be paused until later in 2025, in order to give the author time to work on her WSA competition entry and allow her hand and wrist to heal further before putting it through the stress of too many daily updates of books. -- This book contains: Dark themes, death, smut. (All hail the smut.)

Lenaleia · Fantastique
Pas assez d’évaluations
45 Chs
#R18
#MAGIC
#WEAKTOSTRONG
#DARK
#SURVIVAL
#WEREWOLF
#APOCALYPSE
#FATEDLOVE
#FASTPACED
#ABUSEDFL

Lauren: More Dreams

Corpses litter the ground, a grotesque tapestry of human and monstrous remains. My stomach churns, bile rising in my throat.

I can't look at them, so I keep my gaze straight ahead, on the man leading the group of us. He towers above the others, his broad, muscular back on full display despite the biting cold. Long black hair, wavy and wild, cascades down his back. But it's the tattoos that captivate me—intricate designs that seem to writhe and dance across his skin, defying logic and reason.

My legs burn with exhaustion as I struggle to keep pace. The others cast irritated glances my way. I want to apologize, but I focus on panting through my mouth, trying not to smell the stench of rotting flesh.

It intensifies as we round a corner. A mountain of bodies blocks half the street, limbs twisted at impossible angles. That's when my stomach finally rebels.