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Elara Vance was a withdrawn omega, often overlooked in the Silver Moon Pack for her quiet demeanor and unassuming appearance.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 harsh buzzing of my alarm jolted me awake, dragging me from a fitful sleep plagued by fragmented dreams. Distant memories of silver eyes that once looked at me with disgust now haunted me from thousands of miles away. I sat up in bed, rubbing my face as last night's news about Rhys Knight's impending visit replayed in my mind.


"Get it together, Elara," I muttered to myself, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.


The morning light filtered through my curtains as I went through my routine—shower, makeup, outfit selection. Each careful step designed to armor myself against the world. I no longer hid behind baggy clothes and thick glasses. Instead, I chose a sleek pencil skirt and emerald green blouse that complemented my eyes—the witch eyes I'd once disguised but now proudly displayed.


My phone buzzed with a text from Seraphina: *Heard the news. You okay?*


I typed back: *Surviving. Not letting him ruin what I've built.*


A Favor for a Friend, A Collision Course with the Past