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Elara Vance was a withdrawn omega, often overlooked in the Silver Moon Pack for her quiet demeanor and unassuming appearance.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 sleek Bugatti purred as Orion navigated the road toward Silver Moon University. I fidgeted with the hem of my dress, memories washing over me with each passing mile. This campus held so many painful memories—the brutal rejection, the humiliation, the heartbreak.


"You're tense," Orion observed, his deep voice cutting through my thoughts.


I sighed. "Just nervous about returning. It's been four years, but..."


"But the wounds still feel fresh," he finished for me, his hand suddenly landing on my thigh.


The warmth of his palm seeped through the thin fabric of my dress, and I tensed slightly. His touch wasn't unwelcome, but his possessiveness sometimes caught me off guard.


"I'll be right beside you," he continued, his fingers giving my thigh a gentle squeeze. "No one will dare disrespect you with me there."


I placed my hand over his, subtly shifting it to a more neutral position on my knee. "I appreciate that, but I can handle myself now."


The Alpha's Campus Claim and a Gang's Dramatic Entrance