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Elara Vance was a withdrawn omega, often overlooked in the Silver Moon Pack for her quiet demeanor and unassuming appearance.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 had exactly one day off each week. Just one precious day where I could forget about work and breathe. Alpha Orion Valerius had been strict about this when I first joined Storm Crest Pack—everyone needed at least one day to decompress.


The morning air felt crisp as I opened my apartment windows, letting sunlight flood the modest space I'd made my own. Four years ago, when I first arrived here broken and alone, this place had been a sterile box. Now, colorful throw pillows brightened my couch, sketches adorned my walls, and fabric samples were organized neatly on my work desk.


I tied my hair into a messy bun and grabbed my cleaning supplies, something that would have shocked my old self. Elara Vance had been many things—studious, quiet, invisible—but never particularly neat. The new me, though? Miss Croft liked order.


"Look at you," I muttered to myself as I scrubbed the kitchen counter. "Cleaning on your day off. What happened to sleeping until noon?"


The VIP's Perilous Demand