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Criss

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  • Novel Reviews: 4

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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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Book cover
Updated
  • Author: Onyemaobi
  • Status: Completed
  • Age Rating: 18+
  • 👁 46.4K
  • 9.2

"I, Alpha Malik Denver hereby reject you, Eliana Jacobs as my mate and Luna." His voice was like a sword through my chest, slicing my heart into a million tiny pieces. He looked at me with a commanding glare and I knew I didn't have much of an option. "I, Eliana Jacobs, accept your rejection." I whispered as my hands fell to my stomach because unbeknownst to the Alpha, I was carrying his child. - Eliana Jacobs had been through hell her entire life. Ever since her mother died, she'd been abused by her whole pack. No one but her understood the kind of pain she went through until then one night, she decided to flee from her pack. However, destiny led her into the hands of Malik Denver, the most ruthless of all Alphas in Oakland and the leader of her own rival pack. In a twist of fate, he took her in and saved her from becoming rogue. But all in exchange for one thing—a child. Two years had passed and not only had Eliana fallen in love with Denver, she also finds out she’s finally pregnant. But before she could even break the news to him, he shockingly rejects her. “This is over!” He said. Distraught and devastated, Eliana once again decides to run away but this time to somewhere far away. It wasn’t until six years had passed that something unexpected brings her back to Oakland. But now, she isn’t alone, she’s with a six year old boy. How would Denver take the news of her return? Would he finally regret his decision to let her go? And alas, what would happen when he finds out about his secret baby?

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Book cover
  • 👁 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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