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Elara Vance was a withdrawn omega, often overlooked in the Silver Moon Pack for her quiet demeanor and unassuming appearance.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

"Why are you spending so much time with her?" I hissed at my mother as she bustled around the kitchen, preparing a tray of drinks for our "guests."


My mother glanced up from arranging glasses on the silver tray, her eyebrows raised. "Elara, she's going to be part of this pack's leadership. Besides, she's been nothing but lovely to me."


I bit back a sarcastic retort. Of course, Faye would charm my mother. She charmed everyone—that was her specialty. Perfect, poised Faye with her honeyed words and calculated smiles.


"You don't know her like I do," I muttered, folding my arms across my chest.


Mom sighed, placing the final glass on the tray. "Honey, I know you and Rhys have a... complicated history. But Faye has gone out of her way to make me feel welcome. That counts for something."


I watched as my mother lifted the tray, noticing how she'd arranged everything just so—making sure the drinks for Faye and Rhys were placed in the most accessible spots. The sight made my stomach twist.


The Rival's Game and a Chilling Question