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Elara Vance was a withdrawn omega, often overlooked in the Silver Moon Pack for her quiet demeanor and unassuming appearance.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 weight of Rhys's question hung in the air between us, heavy with expectation. His eyes, dark and intense, searched mine for an answer. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest as I sat straddling his lap in the confined space of his car.


"I'm all in," I whispered, the words feeling both terrifying and liberating as they left my lips.


Something flashed in his eyes—relief, triumph, desire—all mixed into one potent expression that made my breath catch. Without warning, his mouth crashed against mine, hungry and demanding. His kiss was possessive, as if he was claiming me, marking me as his in the most primal way.


I melted against him, my body responding instinctively to his touch. My fingers tangled in his hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth with deliberate strokes that made heat pool low in my belly.


"You have no idea how much I want you," he growled against my lips, his hands sliding down to my waist and then lower, gripping my thighs.


A Promise of Intimacy, A Fragile Truce