Elara Veyne

"Ahh!" She writhed in a haze of moans, her body trembling with conflicting sensations. She loathed this man, yet every fiber of her being reacted to his touch. As his hands began to roam along her waist, she sucked in a sharp breath—the sudden pull of her back zipper sent a shiver down her spine. The metal slider halted at the small of her back, and as it opened, her upper back and waist were exposed, baring her skin to the cool air. "D-Don’t—mmph!" Her protest was smothered by the pillow as his fingers caressed her bare spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. With a deep, angry growl, he whispered harshly in her ear, "I'll make you forget every touch, every kiss, every thing about him. From now on, when you're with another man, you'll only see me."

Elara Vance was a withdrawn omega, often overlooked in the Silver Moon Pack for her quiet demeanor and unassuming appearance. But beneath her thick glasses lay a hidden crush on Rhys Knight, the pack's future Alpha and a notorious campus playboy. Rhys scoffed at mate bonds, treating relationships as disposable—until Elara's eighteenth birthday, when he publicly rejected her, turning her into the butt of every joke.

Now, Elara returns transformed—glasses discarded, her hair styled sleek and confident—and Rhys can't take his eyes off her. What if her blood holds a sacred heritage chosen by the Moon Goddess? What if the "humiliation" was part of a larger scheme? And when Rhys, the alpha who once dismissed her, kneels before her new love interest, Liam Thorne, begging for a second chance, who will claim victory in this battle of pride and passion?

Rejected by My Alpha Mate

I couldn't stop crying as I limped away from the club, each sob tearing through my chest like a physical wound. Raina had offered to drive me home, but I'd insisted on walking—I needed fresh air, needed to clear my head, needed to be alone. Now, on this dark, empty street, I regretted that decision.


My ankle throbbed with each step, a sharp reminder of how Rhys had shoved me to the floor like garbage. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the humiliation burning through me.


*Dirty women. Whore. Nothing pretty. Leftovers.*


His cold voice echoed in my head, each word a fresh stab to my heart. Four years of rebuilding myself, becoming stronger, and he had reduced me to nothing in seconds.


A Kind Alpha's Comfort in the Night's Despair