Rheode, a town steeped in secrets, where werewolves rule and dreams foretell destinies. Bride of the vengeful alpha follows Claire, a she-wolf navigating a world of tradition and betrayal. As she tries to make sense of her own identity and the weight of her heritage, Claire discovers that her dreams may hold the key to a forgotten past and an uncertain future. When a stranger with an alluring scent and mysterious ruby red eyes appears, Claire's world is turned on its head. Truths revealed set off a chain of events that will change all that she knew. Join Claire on a journey of self-discovery, danger and the pursuit of love in a world where a friendly face can hide the darkest sins.
When I was a girl, I dreamed. I dreamed of stars, the sky, balloons, and darkness wrapped in him. I didn't realize the dreams I had were far from ordinary; they echoed with promised retribution. You see, it wasn't bad to dream, but to dream of him was an omen of dark days to come. Days that will rip off the mask of my quiet unsuspecting town. My name is Claire, and I am the bride of a vengeful alpha.
My hometown, Rhoede, pronounced REE-ODE, was a simple but ruthless one. It was home to the greatest werewolves to walk the earth, almost entirely cut off from the rest of the world by the ocean on three sides. It was self-sustaining, thriving, and utilitarian. I was born here, to the largest and strongest pack known to man and others; the Blackthorne wolves. Volatile, powerful, ruthless with signature eyes of grey and gold that shone in the most heightened emotions. I was small compared to the rest of my clan, barely 5'5", and weighed next to nothing. As a she-wolf, I was already disappointing, and I had just begun. There are several packs within Rhoede other than mine we have, O'Connoers, McMasters, the Rune, Beaumont, Belgrave, Greyson, the Rivers, Nightlad, and the Savonts. The leaders of each pack form a council of wolves spearheaded by Alpha Declan Rivers; they deliberate and make decisions to protect our home and interests.
The dreams I speak of are not fantasy, and not ordinary in the least. To dream as a young she-wolf is a necessity; it is the only way to find our true mates. Once one is of age, eighteen, the dreams begin to unfold, giving little details here and there until the full picture of him is complete and you unlock his name, scent, and aura. Some dream of wolves not within the pack and must find him along with the help of the pack druids, masters of magic who assist also in mating rituals, bond severance, and funerals. They also throw a mean birthday party. It is not uncommon to have dreams earlier than 18. The youngest record was about 15; Natalie Greyson. She dreamt of some New York wolf and spent the next 2 summers yapping on and on about him and how she couldn't wait to leave. She did, and we gave thanks. I never understood her desire to upend all she's ever known in the blink of an eye without looking back. I've always felt grounded here, like all I need and am meant to have is here. Now don't get me wrong, I love the occasional vacation but there is no place like home.
There's just something picturesque about here, with its rolling acres of uncultivated land, most wolfs owned ranches and farms, and just great property with enough nature and space to allow our wolves room to run free and a semblance of peace. There are schools; kindergarten, middle schools, community college, and quite recently a University that accepts wolves and humans, that idea was met with a whole of pushback but the council made it work. There are restaurants, boutiques, and shopping centers. Everything is well thought out for convenience and ease. But as modern and well-structured as my home is, it wasn't always like that. Weirdly no one seems to be able to give a clear account of the history of our town. All there is are records from two hundred years prior. Anything beyond that simply doesn't exist or is lost in translation. Many texts allude that we've been here for over four hundred years if not more. So what happened to nearly 300 years of history is anyone's guess. There are whispered stories of war, of great werewolves who could perform rituals the way druids do, who could enter minds and enslave their victims like vampires. Who drew strength and life force from the moon to truly live forever. Myths and crazy stories are what it is because our kind of werewolf barely makes it to a hundred years, can't do magic for anything, and cannot enter minds. Save the full moon transformation and heightened smell hearing and healing, we are human-ish. There has been a gross dilution of our 'other' blood thanks to Weres who mated with humans. Do that too many times in too many generations and you'll have what we are right now. To mate with humans is a personal choice it was mostly Were's who lost their mates to wars back in the day. They find humans and settle down with them for want of companionship. The proper way to secure a mate remains the 'mated dream'.
The mated dream is supposed to be sweet, like a cool breeze on your skin on a summer day, leave you feeling all warm and tingly and wake you up with a sharp sense of focus so no matter how little the detail revealed is, you would be able to write it down and recognize it when the full picture comes. It's also one of the reasons it happens at 18, young female pups have a hard time connecting what's real from their active imagination. It's a way to ensure certainty.
This is why when I jerked violently from bed at the young age of 16, drenched in sweat with a roar in my ears followed by a sinister laugh, I knew something was wrong.
Janice, the long-forgotten legitimate heiress, made her way back to her family, pouring her heart into winning their hearts. Yet, she had to relinquish her very identity, her academic credentials, and her creative works to her foster sister. In return for her sacrifices, she found no warmth, only deeper neglect. Resolute, Janice vowed to cut off all emotional bonds. Transformed, she now stood as a master of martial arts, adept in eight languages, an esteemed medical expert, and a celebrated designer. With newfound resolve, she declared, "From this day forward, no one in this family shall cross me."
"You're a creepy bastard." His eyes smolder me and his answering grin is nothing short of beautiful. Deadly. "Yet you hunger for me. Tell me, this appetite of yours, does it always tend toward 'creepy bastards'?" **** Widower and ex-boss to the Mafia, Zefiro Della Rocca, has an unhealthy fixation on the woman nextdoor. It began as a coincidence, growing into mere curiosity, and soon, it was an itch he couldn't ignore, like a quick fix of crack for an addict. He didn't know her name, but he knew every inch of her skin, how it flushed when she climaxed, her favourite novel and that every night she contemplated suicide. He didn't want to care, despising his rapt fascination of the woman. She was in love with her abusive husband. She was married, bound by a contract to the Bratva's hitman. She was off-limits. But when Zefiro wanted something, it was with an intensity that bordered on madness. He obsessed, possessed, owned. There'd be bloodshed if he touched her, but the sight of blood always did fascinate him. * When Susanna flees from her husband, she stumbles right into the arms of her devilishly handsome neighbour with a brooding glare. He couldn't stand her, but she needed him, if she was ever going to escape her husband who now wanted her dead. Better the devil you know than the angel you don't. She should have recalled that before hopping into Zefiro's car and letting him whisk her away to Italy. Maybe then, she wouldn't have started an affair with him. He was the only man who touched her right, and the crazy man took no small pains in ensuring he would be the last.
Lucia Balstone thought she had chosen the right man to spend the rest of her life with, but he was the one who ended her life. Their ten-year marriage seemed like a joke when her husband stabbed her with a dagger. Fortunately, God is never blind to people's tears. Lucia got a second chance. She was reborn at the age of 22, before all the terrible things had happened. This time, she was determined to avenge herself and let those who hurt her pay! She made an elaborate list of her goals, and the first thing on her list was to marry her ex-husband's enemy, Alonso Callen!
Janet was adopted when she was a kid -- a dream come true for orphans. However, her life was anything but happy. Her adoptive mother taunted and bullied her all her life. Janet got the love and affection of a parent from the old maid who raised her. Unfortunately, the old woman fell ill, and Janet had to marry a worthless man in place of her parents' biological daughter to meet the maid's medical expenses. Could this be a Cinderella's tale? But the man was far from a prince, except for his handsome appearance. Ethan was the illegitimate son of a wealthy family who lived a reckless life and barely made ends meet. He got married to fulfill his mother's last wish. However, on his wedding night, he had an inkling that his wife was different from what he had heard about her. Fate had united the two people with deep secrets. Was Ethan truly the man we thought he was? Surprisingly, he bore an uncanny resemblance to the impenetrable wealthiest man in the city. Would he find out that Janet married him in place of her sister? Would their marriage be a romantic tale or an utter disaster? Read on to unravel Janet and Ethan's journey.
Rena got into an entanglement with a big shot when she was drunk one night. She needed Waylen's help while he was drawn to her youthful beauty. As such, what was supposed to be a one-night stand progressed into something serious. All was well until Rena discovered that Waylen's heart belonged to another woman. When his first love returned, he stopped coming home, leaving Rena all alone for many nights. She put up with it until she received a check and farewell note one day. Contrary to how Waylen expected her to react, Rena had a smile on her face as she bid him farewell. "It was fun while it lasted, Waylen. May our paths never cross. Have a nice life." But as fate would have it, their paths crossed again. This time, Rena had another man by her side. Waylen's eyes burned with jealousy. He spat, "How the hell did you move on? I thought you loved only me!" "Keyword, loved!" Rena flipped her hair back and retorted, "There are plenty of fish in the sea, Waylen. Besides, you were the one who asked for a breakup. Now, if you want to date me, you have to wait in line." The next day, Rena received a credit alert of billions and a diamond ring. Waylen appeared again, got down on one knee, and uttered, "May I cut in line, Rena? I still want you."
For three years, Shane and Yvonne were wed, sharing heated nights, while his devotion clung to his ex. Yvonne strove to be a dutiful wife, yet their marriage felt hollow, built on desire rather than real warmth. All changed when she became pregnant, only for Shane to thrust her onto the operating table, warning, “Either you or the baby survives!” Broken by his cruelty, she vanished in grief and later returned, radiantly accomplished, leaving everyone awestruck. Haunted by remorse, Shane begged for another chance, but Yvonne only smiled and replied, “I’m sorry, men no longer interest me.”