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Elara Vance was a withdrawn omega, often overlooked in the Silver Moon Pack for her quiet demeanor and unassuming appearance.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

"Oh my god, Elara! It's really you!" Seraphina squealed, throwing her arms around me in a vice-like hug that nearly knocked the wind out of me.


I returned her embrace, letting myself sink into the familiar comfort of my old friend. The scent of her expensive perfume—always changing yet consistently over the top—brought back a flood of memories.


"I can't believe you just disappeared like that," she said, finally pulling away to examine my face. Her eyes were rimmed with unshed tears. "Four years, Elara. Four fucking years with barely a text or call."


"I know," I said, guilt washing over me. "I'm sorry, Sera. I just... I needed to get away."


We settled into a corner booth at La Luna, a trendy club that had apparently opened in my absence. The dim lighting and pulsing music created a cocoon of privacy despite the crowded space.


"You look..." Seraphina tilted her head, studying me intently. "Different. Like, really different."


I smiled faintly. "Good different or bad different?"


A Secret Identity on the Brink of Revelation