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Elara Vance was a withdrawn omega, often overlooked in the Silver Moon Pack for her quiet demeanor and unassuming appearance.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

"You're a complete show-off," I said, watching my cousin Gideon suspend a golden orb of light between his palms.


"Says the woman who lit all the campfire candles with a single finger snap last night," he retorted with a smirk.


I grinned and held up my hand, letting flames dance across my fingertips. The fire didn't burn me—it never did anymore. Four years of practice had taught me perfect control.


"It was faster than using matches," I replied with a casual shrug. "Besides, the pack loved the display."


Four years. It seemed impossible that so much time had passed since that fateful night when a diverted flight had landed me in Storm Crest territory—in the heart of what should have been enemy territory. Yet here I was, not just surviving but thriving.


Gideon rolled his eyes. "All I'm saying is that someone who turns battle training sessions into pyrotechnic displays doesn't get to call others show-offs."


Four Years On: A New Life, A New Alpha's Orbit