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Elara Vance was a withdrawn omega, often overlooked in the Silver Moon Pack for her quiet demeanor and unassuming appearance.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

Consciousness came back to me in disorienting waves. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, my thoughts fragmented and blurry. I tried to open my eyes, but even that small movement sent pain shooting through my skull.


The last thing I remembered was sitting in Rowan's dorm room. We'd been working on our project. He'd offered me coffee, and it had tasted strange, but I'd been too polite to say anything.


I forced my heavy eyelids open, blinking against the harsh afternoon light streaming through unfamiliar curtains. As my vision cleared, panic surged through me. This wasn't my room. The walls were decorated with basketball posters. Rowan's room.


I tried to sit up, but my limbs felt impossibly heavy. When I finally managed to push myself upright, the blanket covering me fell away, and horror washed over me. I wasn't wearing my clothes. Instead, I had on an oversized t-shirt that definitely wasn't mine. The scent told me immediately—it was Rowan's.


The Staged Betrayal and an Alpha's Return