Felix Turner

The screams of the "Proving" ceremony were the first thing I heard when I woke up. My eyes shot open, and the scent of pine, sweat, and something metallic filled my lungs. I was back in this godforsaken survivalist compound, mysteriously transported from my office job. A hand grabbed my arm, and it was Gabrielle Chadwick, or Gabby, her terrified eyes pleading. "Molly, help me! Please! They're going to hurt me!" This was the ritual where young men would strike unmarried women with leather belts, and the one enduring the most blows was deemed "most desired." In my past life, I shielded Gabby, taking every blow for her, believing I was protecting a friend. My sacrifice made me the "most honored," granting me first choice of a partner, and I chose Caleb Scott, the compound leader' s son. But my life with Caleb was a private hell of control and brutality, while Gabby, seething with resentment for what she thought was her rightful place, pretended to be my friend. She eventually got her revenge, pushing me off a cliff during a foraging trip. Now, reborn at the start of that same horrifying ceremony, Gabby was playing the same part, her hand clamping my arm, her voice a desperate plea for me to be her shield again. I looked at her, at the calculated fear in her eyes, remembering the sharp, final impact of falling. Not this time.

To save my marriage, I secretly underwent surgery, a desperate attempt to reignite the spark with my husband, Collin. I surprised him in our penthouse suite, wearing a crimson dress, hoping to feel his desire again. Instead, he called me by another woman's name. Then he gave me an order: sleep with his business rival to close the deal of the century. "You are that service," he whispered. While his mistress listened on the phone, he called me "dead weight" and promised her my life. He was so eager to get rid of me, he didn't even read the documents his lawyer sent. He just hit "e-sign" on everything. Including our divorce papers and the very contract that would make me a very rich woman. He thought he could sell his wife like an asset and then leave me destitute. He saw a broken woman, a disposable toy. He never imagined I'd use his own contract to destroy him. Now, with the help of the very man I was sold to, I'm not just taking his money. I'm taking his entire empire.

I sold my soul for my fiancé, Dante Guy. I liquidated my company and handed him my entire inheritance to save his construction empire from collapse. He thanked me by taking a wrecking ball to my parents' legacy-a children' s hospital wing-to build luxury condos for his mistress, Karly. Just as I reeled from the betrayal, I discovered I was pregnant. But from my hospital bed, I overheard the words that shattered what was left of my world. "Her child… it' s a mistake. A complication," Dante whispered to Karly on the phone. "You and our son are the future." He called me a parasite living off his generosity, twisting every sacrifice I' d made into a weakness. The man whose new empire was built on my family' s ashes had not only betrayed me; he had erased me. That night, Karly had me strapped to a chair and tortured with an electroshock device, trying to harm our unborn child. When Dante found me broken on the floor, he chose to comfort her, telling me I needed to "make sacrifices for the family." As he carried me back to our gilded cage, my mind went eerily calm. He thought I was nothing without him. He was about to find out just how wrong he was.

One hour after I was diagnosed with a brain tumor, my husband, Ethan Wood, a superstar, publicly cheated with his agent, Lilian Forster. Some media outlets bombarded me with calls and asked if I would pay a hefty sum to buy out the scandalous footage. Watching their intimate figures in the video, I coldly replied, "I won't." I decided to do what I had wanted to do in the remaining days. I divorced, invested, and rebuilt my gallery. I wanted to be my own empress. No one expected that the cheap paintings I casually snapped up would become wildly popular among collectors and that the stocks I bought on a whim would surge overnight. In just a few weeks, my wealth snowballed. I nearly landed among the top three on the rich list in Preayork. As Ethan and Lilian mocked that I had no time to enjoy my wealth, the doctor revealed to me that the supposed brain tumor was, in fact, a misdiagnosis.

I was a lowly Omega, but the Moon Goddess herself declared I was the fated Mate to Alpha Kaelan. For a year, I believed our love was a legend, and for the last eight months, I carried what I thought was his son and heir. Then I found the scroll. A year before he even met me, he had performed a blood ritual to make himself sterile. He did it all for another woman. The love story I cherished was a lie. He and his warriors had a betting pool on who the father of my bastard child was. They laughed as they used me on cold nights. He drugged me and let his true love, Seraphina, kick my swollen belly for fun. Then he offered my unconscious body to his men as a reward. My fated love, the future I was promised, was nothing but a sick, twisted game they played for their amusement. As I lay there, violated and broken, my heart didn't just break. It turned to ice. So I swallowed the forbidden herbs to end the life inside me. This was not an act of despair. It was the first act of my war.

My husband of ten years, Alexander Vaughan, was a man carved from ice. Our marriage was a business deal to save my family, and my primary duty was to quietly pay off his endless stream of mistresses. But then, a single phone call shattered my bleak existence. The hospital had found a perfect stem cell donor for my dying sister, Cathi. We could save her. I begged Alexander to authorize the life-saving transplant. He refused, completely captivated by his new favorite, an influencer named Karlee. He ignored my frantic calls. When I finally confronted him, Karlee whispered a poisonous lie that my sister had been rude to her. Based on her word, Alexander delivered the fatal blow. "I'm withdrawing Cathi's medical team," he said, his voice like ice. "The transplant is off." My phone rang again. It was the hospital. My sister was dead. She had left a note, saying she didn't want to be a burden anymore. He had killed her. As surely as if he had held the blade himself. My grief turned to rage. After I confronted him, he tried to drown me, then had his prized drone inject me with a neurotoxin. He left me paralyzed on his workshop floor for his guards to have their "fun." As I lay helpless, waiting for the end, the door creaked open. A man I hadn't seen in fifteen years knelt beside me, his face a mask of horror. "Addie? My God, what did he do to you?"

They called me the luckiest woman in New York, the girl from nowhere who had somehow captured the Sterling heir, Liam. He fought his powerful family for me, gave up his inheritance, and it was a fairy tale. Then, his brother died, and Liam became the sole heir, forced into an arranged marriage with his widowed sister-in-law, Scarlett. The city expected him to drop me, but he dramatically announced our engagement still stood. Everyone saw a grand love story. I knew the truth. While the world saw a hero, I saw a monster. He crept into Scarlett' s bed nightly, leaving me a prisoner in his house, bound by his family' s cruel rules. When I discovered I was pregnant, his mother, Mrs. Sterling, dragged me to a clinic, forcing an abortion for their "pure Sterling line." But the true horror came weeks later: an anonymous medical file revealed Liam hadn' t just allowed the abortion; he' d secretly ordered the doctor to remove my uterus, ensuring I could never bear another child, never have a claim to the Sterling fortune through an heir. He had carved out my womanhood. The love I had for him died, replaced by a cold, sharp rage. He thought I was broken, a fragile pet, but he was wrong. I would make him believe I died for him, a tragic victim of a love he destroyed. I would fake my death, escape this gilded cage, and one day, I would have my revenge. My freedom began with playing the docile, heartbroken lover, letting him believe he was in control, utterly unaware he was dancing to my tune.

The hospital air, cold and sterile, usually a familiar hum, felt wrong that day. My sister, Lily, lay broken and small in that bed, her artist' s hands swollen and bandaged, a machine breathing for her. Someone had done this. The doctor' s words-"blunt force trauma," "critical condition"-blurred into the background, drowned out by the name: Brandon Thorne, son of a tech billionaire. My wife, Sarah, a rising star prosecutor, offered only a chilling hesitation when I asked for justice. "We need to be careful, Ethan. The Thornes are a powerful family." Then the preliminary hearing came. Sarah stood there, a mask of neutrality, while Brandon Thorne smirked and the police chief spun lies. "Lily Miller has a history of... emotional instability," Sarah' s voice echoed, destroying my sister' s name. I' d given Sarah Lily' s last texts: "Ethan, I\'m scared." "Brandon... he\'s scaring me." Sarah declared, "The messages in question appear to have been deleted." My own wife had covered for him. I saw her later, laughing with the chief and Brandon' s father. My marriage, my life, had been a lie. The judge' s gavel sealed it: "Case dismissed." Brandon was free. I was ordered to pay $100,000 for defamation. "You\'re less than nothing," Brandon sneered, tossing a hundred-dollar bill at my feet, his expensive cologne suffocating me as he whispered, "Lily cried for you. Sarah thinks you' re pathetic." Something broke inside me. The discipline I' d honed as a SEAL shattered. I lunged, my fist finding his smug face. Bone crunched. Guards slammed me against the cold marble. Sarah screamed "Assault!" playing the damsel, looking at me with pure contempt. Completely alone, swallowed by their world, I barely made it back to Lily' s apartment. The silence screamed, until I found it-a letter, tucked away. "I told Sarah about it," Lily had written. "She told me I was overreacting... She made me feel small." Then, taped to the bottom of the chest, a USB drive. Proof. The audio played: Brandon' s predatory voice, Sarah' s cool complicity. "Make the evidence disappear." "You\'re in this just as deep as I am." The last recording played: Lily' s broken voice, a voicemail to Sarah. "Why? I trusted you. He... he hurt me so bad. And you knew. You let him. Why?" Sarah wasn' t just betrayed by ambition; she was a co-conspirator, feeding my sister to wolves. I went to the precinct, USB in hand. The detective sneered, "Case closed, pal." Then he and another officer dragged me into a blind spot. They beat me, hitting where bruises wouldn' t show. "Brandon Thorne\'s father owns this city," they growled. "You are nothing." Later, from the shadows, I watched Sarah and Brandon laughing, sharing a possessive kiss outside the DA' s office. They were celebrating their victory on my sister' s grave. Rage burned. But Lily\'s words echoed: "He scares me, Ethan." Rage was their weapon, not mine. I drove all night to D.C. I knelt at the Pentagon, my parents' medals laid on the pavement before me. "My name is Ethan Miller," I choked out to the guards, "My sister was murdered, and the system is corrupted. I have proof. Please. Help me." A General emerged, a man who had served with my father. He looked at the medals, then at me. "John and Helen\'s boy?" he asked, his voice low. The dam broke. The story poured out. He examined Lily' s picture, his face hardening to granite. "This is not just an injustice, Miller. This is a desecration." His words: "The United States military does not abandon its own. You have the full weight of the United States military behind you." For the first time in months, I felt hope.

The downtown coffee shop was just another Tuesday, another latte, until a voice from five years ago sliced through the mundane. Jessica, holding a ridiculously expensive handbag, scanned me with eyes full of judgment, then dropped a bombshell: Ethan, my ex, still mentioned me. He'd soared to success, made millions, yet, according to her, he never forgot "the girl who just disappeared," the one who supposedly "accused him of not understanding her." The twisted narrative continued, painting him as the heartbroken victim, me as the obsessed, unfaithful one who used him as a "substitute" for a ghost. My hand clenched on my purse, the old lies churning my stomach, the memory of public shame and private agony flickering back. But the old pain dissolved into pure clarity as I looked her straight in the eye: "I'm married, Jessica. And my son is turning four next month."

My name is Leo O' Connell, and I was just fourteen, the overlooked son in a crime family ruled by my tyrannical father. My only solace was my beautiful, quiet mother, Isabella, an outsider in our Irish world, sent as a peace offering from her Sicilian family. Then, my estranged older brother, Connor "The Ghost" O' Connell, a legendary enforcer, returned home after fifteen years in exile. Everyone around me buzzed with anticipation, but I noticed something unsettling in my mother: a forgotten energy, a bright light in her eyes, especially when she looked at Connor. That night, driven by a strange intuition, I crept to my mother' s private bungalow. Through a gap in the blinds, I saw them: my mother, Isabella, and Connor, locked in a passionate embrace, not the embrace of brother and sister-in-law. I heard him whisper a different name, "Bella," confessing he'd thought of her for fifteen years before he kissed her. My world shattered. My mother, beautiful and sad, was a liar. And Connor, the brother I was beginning to admire, was a thief of her affections. He was going to take her away. He penned a secret note, hidden in a Zippo lighter, detailing their escape and a new life together for all three of us. But consumed by a cold, selfish fear of abandonment, I found that note and burned it. I told her nothing, letting her believe he was simply leaving, forever heartbroken. Two years later, my father lay dying, naming Connor the new Don, and secretly ordering my mother' s death to clear the slate. To protect me, my mother lied to Connor, claiming I was my father's true son, forcing Connor to sacrifice his inheritance. He gave up everything, even his life in a bloody gang war, to secure a future for the woman he loved and the boy he believed was his brother. Only after his death, and my mother's passing from a broken heart, did the full, terrible truth unravel, leaving me as the lonely, haunted Don. Now I stand alone, a king of an empire stained with the blood of lies, forced to confront the devastating consequences of my selfish act and the unimaginable sacrifices made by those I loved.

My Saturday mornings used to be filled with the comforting aroma of slow-cooked barbacoa, a smell that meant business was booming at our flagship "Lone Star Cantina." Today, however, was my mom' s birthday, and we had a rare, quiet dinner planned. It was a moment of peace, far from the restaurant chaos. But Sarah, my wife and business partner of eight years, was gone. Then my phone buzzed-an Instagram notification, a tag from a seemingly innocent mutual friend. The picture that appeared on my screen was a punch to the gut: a smiling Sarah, holding hands with "Ethan," her high school "one that got away." The caption: "Finally holding the hand I was always meant to hold #TrueLove #SecondChances." My eyes instantly locked onto her left hand. It was bare. The two-carat diamond ring, symbolizing our shared dream of building an empire, had vanished. My mom' s birthday, our marriage, everything-all forgotten, publicly, for the world to see. Sarah later dismissed our life together as a "mistake," claiming she "settled" for me, while Ethan brazenly called me a "placeholder." The betrayal wasn't a whisper; it was a screaming billboard. "True love?" I scoffed, the words tasting like bitter ash. How could eight years, our entire shared legacy, be so casually discarded for a high school fantasy and a man who looked like a con artist? The burning fury eclipsed all other emotions. Seeking catharsis, I stumbled upon an old, forgotten tablet left by my eccentric grandfather. It powered on, revealing a bizarre "SOUL-SWAP INTERFACE" and, chillingly, Ethan's hidden financial and personal ruin. A button pulsed: "INITIATE CONSCIOUSNESS TRANSFERENCE?" They wanted a different life, a "second chance." I decided to give them one. A very, very different life.

On his deathbed, Liam Walker's last breath was a bitter sigh of regret. Forty years married to Sophia, a union devoid of love, left him yearning for a different path. Then, blackness. A gasp. He woke up, a 17-year-old again, posters of forgotten bands on his wall. A second chance! He swore to himself: No Sophia. But fate had other plans. Sophia Hayes, the architect of his past misery, suddenly transferred to his school, pursuing him with an unnerving intensity. Her strange kindness, unsettling smiles, and persistent presence felt like a cruel game. Liam, convinced she was manipulative, coldly pushed her away. Despite her tearful confession that she had reincarnated too, and deeply loved him, his heart was guarded. Then, he saw it: Sophia, cozy and laughing, emerging from a cheap motel with Ethan Vance, her old flame. The gut-wrenching betrayal, the hollow ache of his first life, surged anew. "Games?" he roared. Was he destined to be a fool twice over? Why was she doing this to him, after all his efforts to escape? His heart shattered, leaving him desperate to flee. He drove across the country, leaving a heartbroken Sophia behind. But she followed, determined to reveal a truth that could unravel two lifetimes of pain. What if everything he knew was a horrifying misunderstanding? And could two fractured souls truly find a second chance at a love they never thought possible?

Winning a prestigious photography scholarship to New York City felt like my ticket to a new life, a future beyond the gilded cage of the Davenport mansion and my secret, forbidden love for my stepbrother, Ethan. Our intimate, years-long affair had been my most cherished secret, a tender rebellion. But then I overheard him, laughing. Our "romance" was nothing but a calculated game, a twisted revenge plot against my mother, designed to shatter her by utterly destroying my heart. My world crumbled, replaced by a chilling realization. The man I truly loved continued his sickening charade, playing the doting lover, even as his 'intended wife,' Chloe, openly taunted me, flaunting her knowledge of his cruel charade. Then came the ultimate, public humiliation: Chloe deliberately destroyed my deceased father's ashes, and Ethan, the supposed love of my life, coldly sided with her, accusing me instead. My heart didn't break; it simply emptied, leaving behind a cold, hard resolve where love once resided. How could I have been so blind, so used, so utterly betrayed by the one person I had dared to love, reduced to a disposable pawn in his hateful vendetta? Determined to sever every poisonous tie and leave no lingering debt, I meticulously amassed every penny to repay my stepfather. I systematically erased every trace of our shared past, and orchestrated a final, dramatic exit, leaving Ethan a devastating breakup note and the full repayment on his desk. As I finally boarded my flight for New York, I knew I was flying towards a new life, leaving behind the ashes of a love I was finally free from.

My heart hammered. My Moleskine, my "Strike List," lay open on Ethan’s desk. Every betrayal, every point deducted from our marriage. One hundred points, and I’d be free. He’d already reached ninety-five. Then came the fire, raging through his ex, Olivia's, restaurant. Ethan, my husband, became a frantic hero for her, oblivious to my presence, my pain. I was just background noise in his obsession. But the true horror emerged months later. Pregnant and hemorrhaging in the ER, fighting for my life, I needed an O-negative blood transfusion. The doctor’s voice was grim: "Your husband has reserved our entire O-negative supply for a Ms. Olivia Vance—for her minor cosmetic procedure." Over speakerphone, I heard Ethan's cold, impatient reply: "Olivia’s needs are paramount. That blood is for her. My wife will have to wait." Our baby, our future, became collateral damage for his obsession. He chose her appearance over our child's life. How could the man who swore to cherish me, who claimed to fulfill my dying father’s wish, be capable of such monstrous indifference? Was I really just a convenient placeholder, waiting for his 'true love' to become available? The pain was a hollow echo now, not sharp, but vast and empty. The score was final. One hundred points. My hand, trembling but resolute, reached for the divorce papers. I packed my life into boxes, leaving behind a marriage that was never really mine, and booked a one-way flight to Austin. This was not the end; it was the ferocious, unyielding beginning of my own story.

Elena died on the operating table, betrayed by her husband, her unborn child already gone. But death? Just her intermission. She woke up in a whole new world-a beastmen's world, where females are rarer than diamonds and the strongest males go mad without a woman's mark to calm them down. And her? Labelled the weakest female alive. An F-rank body with a joke of a status. But hidden inside? Unlimited mental power. Just as she's figuring out this mess, a system pops up with one hell of an offer: Complete the missions. Bond with assigned males. Save this world. Do all that, and you get a one-way ticket back home. for revenge. Sounds simple? Think again. A Wolf General, colder than a blizzard, who should have ended her-ended up letting her mark him. A Fox Prince, all charming smiles and secret schemes, who started playing games only to lose his own heart. A golden Dragon, sunshine-bright and fiercely possessive, who declares her his destined treasure. A shadowy Serpent, too patient and too dangerous, watching her every move from the dark. A Phoenix King, whose love burns so hot he'd reduce empires to cinders for her. They all need her mark. They all want her. And sharing? Not in their vocabulary. Too bad for them- She's not here for love stories. She's here to survive. To climb. To turn their legendary power into her own stepping stones. And one day. To go back and make her betrayers wish they were never born.

The sensation of falling wasn't like flying; it was heavy, violent, and smelled of burning flesh. Above us, on the crumbling balcony of the Sears manor, Duke Cato Sears turned his back, shielding his cousin Bianca from the smoke as he walked away, leaving my sister Blossom and me to drop into the abyss. As the darkness slammed shut like an iron door, I realized my entire life had been a cruel script written by the people I called family. In my first life, I was the sacrificial lamb of the Dawson manor, sold to a man who eventually watched me die without blinking. My sister Blossom had pushed me into Cato's arms to avoid his rumors, only to laugh when the fire finally consumed us both. My father had measured my value like a piece of livestock, and my step-grandmother didn't even acknowledge my existence while I was being led to the slaughter. I died in that fire, feeling the heat scorch my skin and the weight of a hatred so potent it tasted like bile. I spent twenty years being the weak, manipulated shadow of a girl, only to end up as nothing more than a phantom scorch mark on a "hero's" estate. I couldn't understand why my own blood treated my life like a game they could discard. The injustice of it all burned hotter than the flames that took my last breath. Then, I sat up, sucking in air that tasted of lavender and air conditioning, not smoke. I was back in my bedroom, three days before the engagement ball that ruined my life. Blossom stood at the door, her "sweet" mask slipping as she tried to manipulate me into the Duke's path again. She thought she was the only one who had come back, but she didn't realize that this time, I was going to let her have exactly what she wanted: the Duke, the bankruptcy, and the living hell that awaited her in that house.

The screams of the "Proving" ceremony were the first thing I heard when I woke up. My eyes shot open, and the scent of pine, sweat, and something metallic filled my lungs. I was back in this godforsaken survivalist compound, mysteriously transported from my office job. A hand grabbed my arm, and it was Gabrielle Chadwick, or Gabby, her terrified eyes pleading. "Molly, help me! Please! They're going to hurt me!" This was the ritual where young men would strike unmarried women with leather belts, and the one enduring the most blows was deemed "most desired." In my past life, I shielded Gabby, taking every blow for her, believing I was protecting a friend. My sacrifice made me the "most honored," granting me first choice of a partner, and I chose Caleb Scott, the compound leader' s son. But my life with Caleb was a private hell of control and brutality, while Gabby, seething with resentment for what she thought was her rightful place, pretended to be my friend. She eventually got her revenge, pushing me off a cliff during a foraging trip. Now, reborn at the start of that same horrifying ceremony, Gabby was playing the same part, her hand clamping my arm, her voice a desperate plea for me to be her shield again. I looked at her, at the calculated fear in her eyes, remembering the sharp, final impact of falling. Not this time.

Mo Xuetong has lost everything. Her mother, her child, even her servants, have been killed. Betrayed, disfigured, and alone, she dies trying to destroy the people who deceived her… …and wakes up as a child again. Given a second chance, she vows to make things different. This time she will not be a naïve child. This time she is beautiful, cold, and willing to do whatever it takes to get revenge. But her plans are disrupted when she uncovers a thirty year old conspiracy that changes everything. Will she still be able to change her fate? And even if she does, will her new fate be any better, or will her hunger for revenge destroy her?

I woke up floating. Not in a dream, but tethered to a nightmare. My body lay cold on the bed, while my son, Leo, whispered, "Papa won't wake up." My wife, Eleanor, stood by the door, her face a mask of ice. I was a ghost, able to watch, but powerless to intervene. Then Julian Croft appeared, oozing charm and false sympathy. The man who'd received my liver, the root of my demise. Eleanor dismissed Leo's desperate pleas, accusing *me* of manipulation, of using our son. She chose Julian, leaving Leo behind, a small, trembling figure in our empty home. What followed was agony. I watched my seven-year-old journey miles to her office, only to be publicly humiliated, framed by Julian, and then viciously beaten. Eleanor, blind to the truth, abandoned him again, leaving him bruised and alone in a dark alley. My spirit seethed, consumed by a cold, useless rage. How could she believe such lies? How could she discard her own child so easily? The injustice was unbearable. I was murdered, my son brutalized, and the woman I loved stood by my killer. I longed to warn her, to protect Leo, but I was just air. A silent scream. Then Julian delivered the final blow: my little boy was tossed into the freezing Hudson River. But as Leo's small form sank into the darkness, a desperate hope ignited. A stranger, an angel, pulled him from the depths. My death was real, my son's suffering unbearable. And now, the true battle for justice, and for Leo's future, was about to begin.

When I decided to put my job as a sugar baby behind me, I never thought that 3 supernatural men would appear before me. Renald, the spoiled movie star –also a vampire-werewolf hybrid. Tony, the most wanted bachelor in the whole city –who is a demon. And Michael, the cold billionaire –plus an angel. On top of that, my previous sugar daddy admits that he is an immortal sorcerer AND is the other three men’s father! What is going on???

KYLE’S POV, “You are driving me crazy, girl, "I said as I took her earlobes in between my teeth and scraped them sexually, her moans filled my ear and I bite it harder as I recollected all I did just to get her to be mine, that is the price every human male makes to get to date a female werewolf. It is really crazy. Now, I am no longer a human. I am now an immortal who got his own power just like every werewolf. “Wait a little,” she said as she shoved me into the bed. I slumped on the bed as I attempted to quell my emotion. She twerked her asses in a way that sent some sensation down my spine, I groaned and held my dick. Suddenly she turned her face to me and I smiled, she frowned. “Who are you?” she asked me in a cozy voice as she paced up and down like a giant warrior. “What do you mean?” I asked as my gaze swiveled around and I saw the mirror overlooking her back. Has she discovered the new me? I implored in my mind. Then my eyes flickered. I stood up in speed and strode to the window and looked up at the stars. “I am a Vampire!” I yelled. There were four werewolves kingdoms in the oasis of Credos and those kingdoms enclosed human beings. There were restrictions and regulations guiding the peaceful co-existence between the four kingdoms and the humans for many years without any bleach. Until a college boy turned into a Vampire. The boy was always treated badly by the humans, especially his stepmother. He returned back home without anyone observing that he had died, he started attempting to unravel who he had become, he uncovered his new abilities and researched them. Without the human's awareness, he snipped himself and dipped his blood into liquor at a party, thus turning those who taste out of the liquor into Vampires. He compelled an army of Vampires and perpetrated anything to avenge the werewolves. Will the werewolves condone this? When the vampire boy and the daughter of one of the Alphas were mates? And the same girl was assigned to coax him into their den. Will she decide on love or her people? And there existed a brave human, HUNTER, who when others were terrified, was called to challenge and annihilate the Vampires. Will he accomplish his goals with the help of his siblings, the werewolves and daughter who is the Vampire boy and Werewolf girl's classmate and the Vampire boy's secret crushes?

Claire must cleverly deceive the enigmatic vampire prince while battling her unexpected desire for him, which threatens her plans.. Season 1 of The Fangs Series ‎ ‎ ‎Nothing in my life has come easily, and my current mission is no exception. My sister and I have journeyed deep into the heart of the vampire stronghold, where I must somehow convince Prince Bastien of House Allard to choose me as his next sanguine partner- the woman he will feed from. But my motives run deeper than mere companionship; I need to gather secrets that could protect my family from their looming threats. The prince is infuriatingly arrogant, and every encounter with him only fuels my disdain. Yet, the stakes are higher than my personal feelings. To keep my family safe, I have no choice but to get close to this powerful and infuriating vampire. It's a dangerous game, but I'm ready to play, even if it means stepping into the kind of darkness I've always feared. ‎With my family's lives on the line, I'll do whatever it takes. Even if that means letting this monster bite me.

Emma Hart is a woman who grew up in the foster care system after being abandoned by her biological family. Her life takes a dramatic turn when she befriends Clara Vanderbilt, the free-spirited daughter of a reclusive billionaire. Drawn into Clara's glittering world of wealth, but beneath the surface lies a family splintered by secrets and betrayal. Hired as an assistant to Clara's enigmatic father, Richard Vanderbilt who evokes curiosity due to his complexity, Emma finds herself drawn to his quiet strength and wounded heart. Their forbidden connection ignites passions neither can deny, but as Emma delves deeper into the Vanderbilt legacy, she uncovers shocking truths about her past. Truth that could destroy everything she's come to care about.

Ryder Kingston is a prince that was cursed before he was born. Coming into the world with a heavy burden on his shoulder. He was supposed to be new hope for his people but he became their worst nightmare. Betty, Ryder's mother, assembled her fellow witches with the hope to usurp her throne. To her, she would get back what was hers at all cost. They couldn't kill Ryder and so had to curse him. Ryder would become a beast with blood lust whenever he got angry. During this period, he wouldn't be aware of things around him and after he morphs back to himself, he would discover to his dismay the people he had killed with his hand. True love was what would set him free but the witches had his mother killed before he would be of age to reciprocate her love. On his way to seek destruction, he meets Elsie, the angel with hidden powers unknown to even her. She tries to help the prince notwithstanding the problems that may come her way. Would she be able to free the prince from the curse? Or will she die like the rest before her?