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Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha

Nicole d'Armand never expected to walk into her apartment and find her fiancé *bleep*-deep in another woman's lady bits. What's a girl to do? Well, after obliterating an 18th-century Meissen vase, delivering a punch that would make a heavyweight boxer proud, and embarking on a night of raucous drinking, Nicole figures she might as well embrace the chaos. But when alcohol and pheromones collide, her wild night spins into something unexpected... Like a ride on the Logan Everett express. Which, naturally, leads to a whirlwind of its own: She's his fated mate. Because of course she is. And he rejects her. Because of course he does. Now embroiled in a mystery bigger than her post-breakup hangover, Nicole finds herself the prime suspect in a murder she didn't commit—no matter how tempting the thought might have been. And the only person who believes her innocence? The same guy who shot down the idea of being her fated mate. Great. Just what she needed: her love life is a crime scene, and the man stupid enough to let her go is holding her freedom in his hands. DECEMBER 2024 NOTE-- Author has a broken hand and updates are slower than normal. Deepest apologies. Trying to get updates more normalized again!! -- This is a fated/rejected mates urban fantasy romance. Content warning for: Nudity, more nudity, swear words, inappropriate humor, dead people, undead people, incomprehensible amounts of magic, werewolves and all the fetishes that come with them, did I mention the nudity?, and a questionable level of sanity at times.

Lenaleia · 奇幻言情
分數不夠
130 Chs

Just a Hint of Doubt

Everything fits like a charm. The jeans hug my curves perfectly, and the soft sweater feels like a warm hug against my skin. How did he know my size?

Then again, this isn't the first time he's bought me clothes. They're still sitting in the stalkerish bag they were delivered in, at Penelope's house. Huh. I should try them on.

Now that he's fucked me front, back, and sideways, there's little point in trying to appear standoffish. Besides, he's getting me food.

My stomach growls impatiently.

As I pull on the new socks—because of course he thought of everything—I try to sort through the jumble of emotions swirling inside me. Gratitude, certainly. A hint of suspicion—how did he manage all this so quickly? And underneath it all, a warmth I'm not quite ready to name.