Hell hath no fury like a rejected mate Years ago, my mate rejected me and stole my pack. Instead of licking my wounds, I set that mangy wolf on fire. The Supernatural Council executed me, and my soul went to the deepest punishment pits of Hell. That's until the Demon King offers me an opportunity for freedom. My mate escaped Hell, and only one person knows him well enough to track him down: me. If I can find him and bring him back, they'll move me out of the pit to a place where I can spend my afterlife in peace. Of course, I said yes, and with a fake body and an infusion of magic, I set off into the Living World. Tracking him is easy-our souls are connected, and we attract each other like magnets, but when our eyes lock, I hesitate to betray him. Griff is tall, dark, masterful, and each moment I spend with him reminds me of our bond. The air between us sizzles, and the tension burns hotter than Hellfire. Our souls resonate, and I can't help but fall in love. But he doesn't know I'm the mate who sent him to Hell...
There was a saying in Logris that Hell was the pinnacle of pain.
Whoever penned that phrase was full of bullshit. Sure, Hell was bad. It was loud and hot and filled with endless torment, and I wasn't talking about the demons who supervised the Punishment Pits. The most torturous part of being in Hell was watching painful memories on an endless cycle of repeat.
I sat in my three-foot-wide cell within Tower Thirteen- Thirteen, one of the many mega-stalagmites that made up Pit 666. The rough stone wall raked across my back, even though I was no longer in possession of a body. There was just about enough standing room in my cell to straighten my spine and stretch my legs, but that would mean bending my neck at an uncomfortable angle.
When the imps weren't taking us out for torture, this shit hole was a constant barrage of petty discomfort. Floors that grated against the skin like steel wool, a ceiling of sharp stalactites that crumbled dust in the eyes. The sticky kind that took an eternity to leave. The gritty specks that stuck to
the fingers, so rubbing the eyes made the situation a thousand times worse.
But none of that compared to the worst part of Hell.
I stared out through the entrance-hole. Out into the ghetto of tall structures that stretched up into an endless void of black. Whoever had designed this place made it so one could just about see the other condemned souls staring out, trying to distract themselves from the torment.
It wouldn't be Hell if they allowed us the comfort of seeing them. They taunted us with the knowledge that they were there, but we were condemned to endure our eternal punishments alone... always alone.
One of the rock spikes on the wall dug into my spine. That was another annoying thing about this cell. It never remained the same shape. That's because it had an intelligence of its own and pushed me toward the confined space's only smooth surface:
The memory wall.
The memory wall played out the exact reason a person was condemned to the Punishment Pits. From the bittersweet beginning to the excruciating end. Another sharp stone lodged in my right ass cheek, making me shift to the left. Then rock dust streamed down in a convenient draft that forced me to turn my head in the same direction.
I clenched my teeth. The only way to get some physical comfort was by facing my mistakes. Maybe they wanted me to admit that I was wrong, to repent, to cry, to wail for forgiveness, but I'd be buggered if I excused the actions of that mangy wolf.
The floor shifted, and a tiny stalagmite rose from beneath me and pushed against my asshole.
"Shit." I shifted in my cell, faced the wall, and watched my most painful sequence of memories.
Franklin Gri ths, the most beautiful wolf-shifter who ever lived.
He was more handsome than Burt Reynolds, cooler than the Fonz, and danced better than John Travolta. He was my mate. Yet he had deceived me and broken my heart.
The screen played the day we'd met.
Griff's long, black hair swept backward as though caressed by the wind. Streams of sunlight hit its ends, turning them a vibrant mahogany. On other men, the style might look like the less glamorous one in Charlie's Angels, but on Griff, the style was a perfect frame for his masculine beauty. Perhaps it was the sideburns that ended at his high cheekbones that made him look so manly. They drew the gaze to a pair of kissable, plump lips. The bastard even had a sexy chin dimple.
My breath quickened, and my gaze flicked up to his eyes. They were liquid gold encased in amber. At the time, I wondered if his wolf would look the same.
I had no idea how many years had passed since my arrest, but I'd spent several months in jail before my execution in 1978. Yet watching this memory on the wall made every butterfly in my stomach take flight with a rush of infatuation.
It was impossible to describe the man's animal magnetism in words or even scents. He was the sort of wolf a bitch would be wise to avoid... if she had any sense. The sort
to admire from afar, only to dwell upon when under the covers with a dildo.
I placed a hand on my heart and whimpered.
On the wall, Griff walked to the beat of "Stayin' Alive," catching the attention of everyone. Women wanted him, kids thought he was the disco equivalent of Superman, and men wanted to wring his neck because no female with a pulse could resist his allure.
At the time, I was nineteen-two years from becoming eligible to take over the pack. Dad had been our alpha, but he had died, leaving Mum and my little sister devastated and me as his heir. There hadn't been any time for grief. Our beta, Gerrison, had spent every day training me on how to become the strong alpha to lead our pack into the 1980s.
In the memory, Griff swaggered up to me and grinned, revealing a mouthful of perfect white teeth.
Most wolves wore jeans and leather jackets, but not Griff. He was always impeccably dressed. On that day, he wore a black, three-piece suit with a sky-blue polyester shirt that was unbuttoned to the waistcoat, giving more than a tantalizing glimpse of the luxuriant hair of his prominent pecs. He wore a gold chain with a runic medallion that indicated he worshipped Fenrir, the Norse god of wolves.
At that moment, the world tilted on its axis, and so did the cell. Even though I knew it was a memory replayed to maximize my misery. Even though I knew exactly how things would end, it still didn't stop me from parting my lips to release a moan.
"Cathwulf Aibek?" said a small voice.
My heart somersaulted to the back of my throat, and every molecule of my transparent body tightened with terror. There was only one reason a demon visited our cells, and that was to take us out for exercise. And by exercise, I meant torture.
I squeezed my eyes shut, scratching their surfaces with lids encrusted with grit. "But I already had my punishment." I tried not to let my voice shake, but the effort was futile. "Check your clipboard."
The punishments were another shitty part about Hell. If they were consistent, like a whipping every Friday, a girl might get used to it. Tune out the pain or do something else to become immune. But it was never the same with those red-skinned fuckers.
Sometimes, they would pull out the fingernails. Other times, it was a cat-o-nine-tails. No, not the whip. An actual, honest-to-Hades feline with a grin that stretched beyond its demonic face and ten bony appendages with spikes that shredded the spirit. When I commented on the false advertising, the demons only said the tenth tail was a bonus.
"Cathwulf Aibek." The voice sliced against my back, making me flinch.
"Yes?" I whispered. "Someone wants you."
I turned around, finally meeting crimson eyes that burned with the flames of wrath.
A story of Domination and submission, where breaking the rules of the game is where the fun begins, when Jacqueline crashes a billionaire’s exclusive poker game in order to seduce him into granting a favor to save her sister, but instead finds herself Played by the Master. Jacqueline Bell desperately wants to help her sister out of a jam. But to do that, she has to find a way to talk to billionaire entrepreneur Race Danner, and have him drop the charges against her brother-in-law. She discovers he holds an exclusive poker game once a week and finds a way in. Race Danner is bored with his life, despite his wealth and extreme hobbies. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking for, but he’ll know it when he sees it. When Jacqueline Bell walks into his life, he knows she’s it. She wants something from him. And he wants her. A combination made in heaven. In a delicious game of cat and mouse, he will leverage his advantage to lure her into his game. And he fully intends to win. This story has Domination, submission, bondage, punishment, and a lot of other fun things, plus explicit, wild sexual encounters. After all, if you’re going to play, play hard!
Put it in. I'm ready." The sound that came from Kit's throat wasn't compliant, but he fed her without further comment. A dense, smooth and very cold cake melted on her tongue. "Mmm, that one's powerful," Sabrina said. "Chocolate fondant cake. I thought we could make them in bite-size molds so the guests can sample without feeling guilty." "Except that one bite isn't always enough." "Are you greedy?" He nudged against her thigh. "No, but I am selfish," she replied. "What's the difference?" "Greedy grabs. Selfish...savors." Sabrina moved her leg into the pressure, rocking her hips. "I want to savor you," she said. "I've been here for the taking." She was ready to sample every inch of Kit in bite-size gulps. Delaying had only made her more ravenous. "Your chin is covered in chocolate dust." He swiped at it with his thumb. She heard a smacking sound. "Umm. You taste good." "A kiss would taste even better," she purred.
What his billions can't buy… International tycoons Sergio, Alex and Jeremy were best friends in college. Bonded by their shared passion for business—and bedding beautiful women!—they formed The Bachelors’ Club, which had only two goals: 1. Live life to the full. 2. Become billionaires in their own right! But now, with the dotted line signed for the sale of their multibillion-dollar wine empire, there’s one final thing left for each of the bachelors to accomplish—securing a bride! If Sergio Mancini wants something, he only has to snap his fingers to get it. Except for Bella Williams. No matter how much his stunning stepsister once drove him wild with lust, he never allowed himself to have her, believing she was a gold digger like her mother. Now, when Bella calls unexpectedly seeking refuge at their secluded family home by Lake Como, their unfulfilled desire resurfaces. No longer able to resist, Sergio ruthlessly decides it's finally time to quench the fire. But their one night together only inflames their passion—and now he wants more!
"I stood at the edge of my heart and watched him choose her. In the end, I was not the one he needed. I was simply the one he settled for." - Noelle ~~~~~~~ I thought I was the one he loved. But a few days before our wedding, I saw him in a way I never had before. His eyes softened as he spoke to her. His first love, and the very woman who had left him in pieces. Heartbreak was something I knew too well. And as I watched the love he still held for her in his eyes, I realized what I had to do. I couldn't marry a man who wasn't truly mine. With no means to cancel the wedding and lacking the courage to confront him, I made a desperate choice to leave. I painfully gave his first love my treasured engagement ring thinking it was for the best and the only way to free myself. But when he saw that ring on her finger, the fragile world I had tried to escape began to shatter. His obsession to find me and bring me back ignited a dangerous game of cat and mouse.
COALESCENCE OF THE FIVE SERIES BOOK ONE: THE 5-TIME REJECTED GAMMA & THE LYCAN KING BOOK TWO: THE ROGUES WHO WENT ROGUE BOOK THREE: THE INDOMITABLE HUNTRESS & THE HARDENED DUKE *** BOOK ONE: After being rejected by 5 mates, Gamma Lucianne pleaded with the Moon Goddess to spare her from any further mate-bonds. To her dismay, she is being bonded for the sixth time. What’s worse is that her sixth-chance mate is the most powerful creature ruling over all werewolves and Lycans - the Lycan King himself. She is certain, dead certain, that a rejection would come sooner or later, though she hopes for it to be sooner. King Alexandar was ecstatic to meet his bonded mate, and couldn’t thank their Goddess enough for gifting him someone so perfect. However, he soon realizes that this gift is reluctant to accept him, and more than willing to sever their bond. He tries to connect with her but she seems so far away. He is desperate to get intimate with her but she seems reluctant to open up to him. He tries to tell her that he is willing to commit to her for the rest of his life but she doesn’t seem to believe him. He is pleading for a chance: a chance to get to know her; a chance to show her that he’s different; and a chance to love her. But when not-so-subtle crushes, jealous suitors, self-entitled Queen-wannabes, an old flame, a silent protector and a past wedding engagement threaten to jeopardize their relationship, will Lucianne and Xandar still choose to be together? Is their love strong enough to overcome everything and everyone? Or will Lucianne resort to enduring a sixth rejection from the one person she thought she could entrust her heart with?
Melanie married Ashton out of gratitude, but she quickly found herself entangled in a web of relentless challenges. Despite these struggles, she stayed true to her commitment to the marriage. In the hospital room, Ashton indifferently attempted to draw her blood, disregarding her discomfort. This callous act was a harsh revelation for Melanie, awakening her to the grim reality of their relationship. Resolved to prioritize her own welfare, she decided to sever ties. With newfound resolve, Melanie filed for divorce. In the process, she unveiled her concealed identities, leaving everyone in shock. Throughout these turbulent times, Melanie realized that Derek, Ashton’s uncle, had been discreetly protecting her all along.
Two years ago, Ricky found himself coerced into marrying Emma to protect the woman he cherished. From Ricky's perspective, Emma was despicable, resorting to underhanded schemes to ensure their marriage. He maintained a distant and cold attitude toward her, reserving his warmth for another. Yet, Emma remained wholeheartedly dedicated to Ricky for more than ten years. As she grew weary and considered relinquishing her efforts, Ricky was seized by a sudden fear. Only when Emma's life teetered on the edge, pregnant with Ricky's child, did he recognize-the love of his life had always been Emma.
Rumors claimed that Fernanda, newly back with her family, was nothing more than a violent country bumpkin. Fernanda just flashed a casual, dismissive grin in response. Another rumor suggested that the usually rational Cristian had lost all sense, madly in love with Fernanda. This frustrated her. She could tolerate gossip about herself, but slander against her beloved crossed the line! Gradually, as Fernanda's multiple identities as a celebrated designer, a savvy gamer, an acclaimed painter, and a successful business magnate came to light, everyone realized they were the ones who had been fooled.
A man like Travis Sinclair wants nothing more than a woman who matches his sexual prowess and is used to getting everything he wants. A cold-hearted billionaire ,he lives by one rule - no love, no commitment. Ayanna Davies isn't looking for a relationship. She's focused on her work and the financial security it brings. As a high end escort, her client is full of filthy rich men who are willing to pay handsomely for her services. But when Travis Sinclair becomes one of her clients, she begins twice about mixing work with pleasure. Not knowing that he is an old acquaintance whom she despises.