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Madi Peterson

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  • Novel Reviews: 7

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Updated
  • 👁 36.2K
  • 8.0

My name is Katia; I want to find my fated mate and live a peaceful life raising our pups. The problem is I have holes in my memories and don’t understand who or what I am. I know I am a werewolf, but I am also something else. Rejection is the last straw! I am not worthy is the reason he gives. The pain doubles me over; my wolf is whimpering in my head, and tears are running down my face. I whispered my acceptance of his rejection and took off running. I ran through the pack house out across the green manicured lawn into the forest. "I'm sorry, my sweet girl," I say to my wolf. I'm sorry you have been stuck with me, and our life has been difficult. She whispers," It's not your fault, Katia." I don't know how long or far we ran, but we came to a cliff with a waterfall. The pain from the rejection is unbearable, and the hurt keeps pounding at me. I know I am missing something. Aza, my wolf, feels it, too; she says we are more than regular werewolves and are here for a reason. We cannot remember the reason. I stand staring at the water running over and down, creating the fall. I wonder what the reason is for the millionth time. Why can I or Aza not remember? Does it have something to do with the way others treat us? The way we have been sent to live with different people since the death of our parents? Does it have something to do with why my fated rejected me? I am tired of figuring out why our memories do not make sense. My sweet girl and I want peace, but we do not know how to obtain it. I stand staring into the oblivion of the pool at the bottom of the waterfall. So I stand there rejected, half a wolf, speaking with my Wolfie, my nickname for Aza, debating what we should do next. Someone was yelling my name from the direction I ran. I do not want to go back there. I hear laughter. Turning, I glance down over the cliff. There is another pack having a barbecue. The adults are laughing and watching the pups play. What looks to be the Alpha, beta, and gamma of the pack are in the water playing Marco Polo with some of the children. They look so happy and carefree. I want that. I wonder if Aza and I ever have a life like that.

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Updated
  • Author: Destiny B
  • Status: Ongoing
  • Age Rating: 18+
  • 👁 21.9K
  • 8.6

"What's wrong, kitten? Am I getting you riled up?" he asks teasingly. I turn away from him, hoping he won't see how much he's pissing me off.  He knows I hate that f*ck*ng nickname, but he hasn't stopped calling me that since we were little. "I told you to stop calling me that," I murmur, trying to keep my voice steady. "And I told you that I would never stop calling you that." I grind my molars, feeling my frustration rise. "You're such a d*ck. Why is that my nickname anyway?" "Because you always have your claws out, but when it's time to scratch and bite, you're practically harmless." A bitter laugh bubbles out of me as I turn back to him. "F*ck you. I could claw your d*mn eyes if I wanted to." "Sure, you can, Kitten," he says again, grinning just to piss me off more. "But just in case those claws don't sink deep enough, keep in mind that you can always call on me, Niko, and Mace if you're in trouble." Why does he keep saying that? I don't need them, I never have. Not even when my dad was murdered. I never let anyone see me cry and wiped my own tears in private. Just like Daddy would have wanted from his tough girl.  "He's right, sweet girl. You can call us if you ever need us," Nikolai adds, emerging from the house and joining us. Mace appears right behind him.  Oh, great. Here are all three dumbasses.  ***** TW: ABUSE, VIOLENCE, DARK ROMANCE, DADDY KINK. THERE WILL BE MM, MF, and MFMM s*x At twenty-three, Alyssa Bennett returns to her small hometown, fleeing her abusive husband with their seven-month-old daughter, Zuri. Unable to contact her brother, she reluctantly turns to his *ssh*l* best friends for help-despite their history of tormenting her. King, the enforcer of her brother's motorcycle gang, the Crimson Reapers, is intent on breaking her. Nikolai aims to claim her for himself, and Mason, ever the follower, is just glad to be part of the action. As Alyssa navigates the dangerous dynamics of her brother's friends, she must find a way to protect herself and Zuri, all while discovering dark secrets that could change everything.

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Book cover
Updated
  • 👁 20.8K
  • 9.8

She spent ten years chasing after the right brother, only to fall for the wrong one in one weekend. ~~~ Sloane Mercer has been hopelessly in love with her best friend, Finn Hartley, since college. For ten long years, she’s stood by him, stitching him back together every time Delilah Crestfield—his toxic on-and-off girlfriend—shattered his heart. But when Delilah gets engaged to another man, Sloane thinks this might finally be her chance to have Finn for herself. She couldn't be more wrong. Heartbroken and desperate, Finn decides to crash Delilah’s wedding and fight for her one last time. And he wants Sloane by his side. Reluctantly, Sloane follows him to Asheville, hoping that being close to Finn will somehow make him see her the way she’s always seen him. Everything changes when she meets Knox Hartley, Finn’s older brother—a man who couldn’t be more different from Finn. He's dangerously magnetic. Knox sees right through Sloane and makes it his mission to pull her into his world. What starts as a game—a twisted bet between them—soon turns into something deeper. Sloane is trapped between two brothers: one who’s always broken her heart and another who seems hell-bent on claiming it... no matter the cost. CONTENT WARNING: This story is strongly 18+. It delves into dark romance themes such as obsession and lust with morally complex characters. While this is a love story, reader discretion is advised.

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  • 👁 41K
  • 9.0

When I was a child, my grandma used to tell me stories. At the time, I never gave them much thought. Thinking they were just that… stories. Growing up, I soon realized that they weren’t lofty fantasies and fairy tales but memories of her past, memories of our ancestors before our world turned to sh*t. You see, what comes from legend, no matter how exaggerated the story becomes, there is always a sliver of truth. You just need to weed out the fiction from fact. My grandmother used to tell me stories of the Chosen One—the one who would save us all. When I was younger, I used to believe that what she said was true. Eventually, someone would be born, just as the Oracle predicted—someone who could save our souls and bind us back to our magic. Once I grew up and saw the world unfolding around me, I no longer believed in salvation. The chosen one seemed to be more of a prayer than reality. Some dream we wanted desperately to come true. Something in which we needed to find hope when there wasn’t any left. When our ancestors turned their backs on us, how were we expected to believe in this so-called salvation? Especially when all we witnessed was death and carnage ever since the great war. Nothing except pain and poverty. I used to believe the stories and used to pray for the mysterious chosen one that would rid our world of its evil. Now, though, I see it for what it really is, just a dream of hope. Some out of reach fairy-tale. A story to create hope. Hope is dangerous; it makes you believe things will get better. I stopped hanging on to hope when I witnessed firsthand that it caused nothing but heartache.

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Heroes

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