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Elara Vance was a withdrawn omega, often overlooked in the Silver Moon Pack for her quiet demeanor and unassuming appearance.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

The turbulence started two hours into our flight. At first, it was just a gentle rocking—nothing unusual for air travel. But then the plane dropped suddenly, sending my stomach into my throat.


"Ladies and gentlemen," the captain's voice crackled over the intercom, strained but professional, "we're experiencing some unexpected weather conditions. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts."


I gripped the armrests as the aircraft lurched again, more violently this time. My knuckles turned white. The cabin lights flickered, and several passengers gasped.


"It's okay," I whispered to myself. "Just bad weather. Normal stuff."


But it wasn't normal. The turbulence worsened, rattling everything—overhead bins, service carts, my nerves. The plane seemed to be fighting against invisible forces, dropping and rising unpredictably.


Outside my window, lightning illuminated angry clouds. I'd never seen such a ferocious storm.


Unforeseen Landing in a Forbidden Land