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Updated
  • 👁 2.9K
  • 7.5

"My life has been a lie. ""Your mother, Amy, was an ER nurse at a local hospital in New Jersey. She was beautiful, had a good heart and was always ready to save a life. 'A life gone is one life too many.' That's what she would always say whenever I tried to ask her to spend more time with me. When she told me she was pregnant with you, I rejected the pregnancy. It was the biggest mistake of my life. When I finally realized this, it was too late."" My dad sighed. ""I know what you're thinking, Diana. Why didn't I want you at first, right?"" I nodded my head. ""We aren't Sullivans. My real name is Lucas Brent Lockwood. Alpha of a wealthy pack situated in New Jersey and New York. I am werewolf. Your mother was human which makes you what they call a half-breed. Back then, it was forbidden for a wolf to consort with a human and produce an offspring. You were usually banished from the pack for that...to live as rogues."" ""I was about to be the first Alpha to break that rule, to take your mother as my mate, my Luna. My father and brother conspired together so that wouldn't happen. They killed your mother hoping you would die with her. When you survived, they killed your mother's human family in order to kill you. I, your Uncle Mike and another Alpha from a neighboring pack saved you from the massacre. Since then, we have been in hiding, hoping my former pack would not come looking for us."" ""Dad, did they try to kill me for being a half-breed?"" ""No, Diana. They tried to kill you because you are my heir. You are destined to be Alpha of the Lotus Pack."""

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Book cover
Updated
  • 👁 23K
  • 6.1

“Don’t make me repeat myself twice, part those legs for me, Bunny.” His deep voice which always sends my brain reeling due to how silky it sounds, washed over me slowly as he murmured quietly against my throat. I tried to point out to him that there was no way I’d be able to do as told with his legs still pinning mine down, but the words died down in my throat when he s*ck*d the skin over my beating pulse into his mouth. “Go on. You want to be good for me, don’t you?” “I— I do.” I choked out, letting out a breathy whimper when he wrapped his free hand around my throat and squeezed on it a little. ——— Forced to marry the ruthless mafia lord, whom everyone was afraid of at the age of eighteen, Sofia had no other choice but to follow her father’s wishes like a dutiful daughter was supposed to. While Luca Ricci only took a wife, because he wasn’t getting any younger at the age of thirty-three. She was the angel to his demons, the light to his darkness, the innocence to his sins… He wanted to protect her, since the moment he locked eyes with hers on their wedding day and saw the amount of fright brewing in it. He wanted to make her good for him, to mark her as his; with his handprints on her *ss and his c*m dripping off her face. To own her completely, to wrap his hand around her throat and do so many sinful things to her body. But he was the mafia lord, and danger just seems to be lurking around him, wherever he goes, and in whatever he does. He must protect his wife at all costs.

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Book cover
  • 👁 41.3K
  • 9.6

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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