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Elara Vance was a withdrawn omega, often overlooked in the Silver Moon Pack for her quiet demeanor and unassuming appearance.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

"I'm telling you, El, you need to loosen up," Gideon said, leaning against the bar counter. We were at Mystic Haven, an exclusive club for wizards only, hidden behind a vintage bookstore downtown.


I took a sip of my colorful cocktail, allowing the warmth of the enchanted spirits to spread through my veins. "Easy for you to say. You don't have a werewolf Alpha breathing down your neck."


"True, I just have a coven of witches constantly trying to recruit me," he winked, running a hand through his dark hair. "But seriously, when was the last time you just had fun?"


The question gave me pause. Between work, Orion's demands, and now Rhys's impending visit, I couldn't remember when I'd last truly relaxed. Watching the magical light show above the dance floor—floating orbs of color pulsing to the beat—I felt a rare moment of peace.


"This was a good idea," I admitted. "Thanks for dragging me here."


Gideon checked his watch. "It's getting late. Should we head out?"


A Heroic Detour, A Coven's Deceptive Trap