The Rejected Omega's Secret Royal Lycan Bloodline
I spent two years scrubbing locker room floors and collecting trash just to buy gifts for my girlfriend, Sylvia. I thought she was the only one who didn't care that I was a "wolfless" Omega.
But the day before my eighteenth birthday, I caught her in the arms of Dixon, our pack's future Alpha.
She laughed in my face, calling me a scentless puppy and admitting our entire relationship was just a cruel bet. When I lunged at him, Dixon beat me half to death. He pinned my bleeding face to the wet tiles with his combat boot and used a permanent marker to scrawl "WOLFLESS LOSER" across my chest. My pack cheered, and even at a party later, the people I thought were my friends treated me like a contagious disease.
I laid in my cramped dorm, suffocating under the crushing despair. Why was I born so weak? Why did I have to endure this brutal humiliation just for existing?
Then, my phone buzzed with an unknown number, and a cold, elegant voice spoke.
"Your trial is over, Aden. You are a royal Lycan, and your hundred-million-dollar trust fund has been activated."
Looking at the impossible string of zeros on my screen, the ancient beast in my blood finally woke up. It was time to make the Alpha who broke me choke on his own arrogance.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 2
Aden POV
The heavy oak door rebounded off the concrete wall with a sickening thud, but the sound barely registered over the roaring in my ears.
"Sylvia?" My voice cracked, betraying the devastating tremor in my chest. I stared at the girl I had spent the last two years loving, the girl I had scrubbed floors to buy gifts for.
Dixon Cooper didn't even flinch. A cruel, arrogant smirk spread across his handsome face. Instead of stepping away, he pressed his hips harder against her, deliberately releasing a suffocating wave of his Alpha pheromones. The scent of dark pine and dominance flooded the small room, a heavy, invisible weight designed to force an Omega like me to my knees.
I fought the urge to submit, my eyes locked on Sylvia. I needed her to explain. I needed her to tell me this was a mistake.
But Sylvia didn't look guilty. She looked annoyed.
She rolled her eyes, running a manicured hand down Dixon's muscular chest. "Oh, grow up, Aden," she scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. She inhaled deeply, burying her face in the crook of Dixon's neck. "God, do you have any idea what a real wolf smells like? His Alpha aura makes my *Inner Wolf* purr. You?" She turned her gaze back to me, her eyes cold and empty. "You smell like nothing. Like a pathetic human."
The words felt like a silver blade twisting in my gut.
"Two years," I choked out. "You said you loved me."
Sylvia let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "I needed a real Alpha, Aden. Someone who can actually *Shift*. Someone who can give me the *Marking* and make me a Luna. Not a scentless, wolfless puppy. Did you honestly think I'd settle for the bottom of the pack? You were just a bet to see how long I could stomach a loser."
Every syllable shattered whatever was left of my heart. The illusion of love evaporated, leaving behind a cold, hollow void. But that void didn't stay empty for long. A dark, ancient heat began to claw its way up my throat—a violent, predatory fury that felt entirely too massive for my frail body.
Dixon chuckled, his eyes dropping to the package tucked under my trembling arm. "I see Brennon played his part perfectly. I told him to make sure you delivered my new cleats right on time."
My breath hitched. Brennon. The extra shift. The fifty bucks. It was all a meticulously crafted stage just to break me.
Dixon reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp fifty-dollar bill. He flicked his wrist, letting the money flutter to the damp tile floor between us.
"Here's your payment, Omega," Dixon sneered, his eyes flashing with a cruel, golden light. "Go buy some scent-blockers, so no one has to smell your weakness."
The thread of my sanity snapped.
With a guttural roar that tore my vocal cords, I lunged at him. I didn't care that he was a trained Warrior. I didn't care that he was the future Alpha. The volcanic rage boiling in my blood demanded violence.
But I was still just a wolfless boy.
Before my fist could even connect, Dixon moved with terrifying, supernatural speed. His fist buried itself into my stomach with the force of a freight train. All the air violently left my lungs. As I doubled over, his knee slammed upward into my jaw.
The world spun into a blur of pain and blinding white light. I crashed hard onto the cold, wet tiles, tasting copper and bile.
Before I could even gasp for air, a heavy combat boot slammed down on the side of my head, pinning my cheek to the filthy floor. The pressure was agonizing, grinding my jawbone against the ceramic.
"Did you really think you could touch me, you piece of trash?" Dixon spat, his weight pressing down harder.
I heard the squeak of a locker opening, followed by the sharp, chemical smell of a permanent marker. Dixon leaned down. I thrashed, trying to free myself, but his boot was an immovable anchor. Rough hands grabbed the collar of my cheap white T-shirt, pulling it taut.
The marker squeaked loudly against the fabric across my chest.
"There," Dixon said, finally lifting his boot. "Now everyone will know exactly what you are."
I lay there, gasping, my vision swimming. Dixon grabbed Sylvia's hand. She stepped over my legs without a second glance, her heels clicking against the floor.
"Stay away from my future Luna, Omega," Dixon warned, his voice echoing in the hallway. "Or next time, I'll break your neck."
The heavy oak door swung shut, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence. I forced my heavy eyelids open and looked down at my chest. Scrawled in thick, black ink across my heart were two words: *WOLFLESS LOSER*.
The fifty-dollar bill lay just inches from my bleeding face. Deep within my marrow, that strange, terrifying heat pulsed wildly, fighting against the cage of my flesh, waiting for the midnight of my eighteenth birthday.
You may also like
8.8
Strapped to the cold metal table in the hospital basement, I begged my Fated Mate, Alpha Marcus, for mercy.
He ignored my tears. With a voice devoid of warmth, he ordered the doctor to inject liquid silver into my veins—a poison designed to dissolve the wolf spirit.
"Do it," he commanded. "If she remains a wolf, she is a liability. As a human, she can stay as an Omega."
I screamed as the silver acid ate through my soul, severing the connection to my wolf.
Marcus didn't flinch. He wasn't saving me from my burn injuries; he was clearing the path for his mistress, Rachel, and their secret illegitimate son.
Broken and wolfless, I was forced to watch him publicly claim his bastard child as the new heir.
He thought I was submissive. He thought I would quietly fade into the servant's quarters to be his charity case.
He didn't know I had cracked his safe and found the DNA tests proving his three-year betrayal.
On the morning of his wedding to Rachel, I smiled as I climbed into the car that would take me to my "exile."
Ten minutes later, my scheduled email exposing every lie hit the Council of Elders.
And while Marcus fell to his knees screaming at the sight of my burning vehicle, realizing he had destroyed his True Mate for a fraud, I was already gone.
8.5
"Oh. God, Eli, please! I'm not on the pills," I gasped, my fingers clawing at his shoulders.
"With a pussy as sweet as that?" he growled against my neck. "Jett was the loser. I'm not. I'm gonna fuck this pussy till the end. Afraid you're gonna have my child?"
My head dropped as a shudder ripped through me. "You're crazy!"
His voice dropped to a whisper. "You're mine now. My woman. And I'm gonna fuck you until this pretty body of yours only knows me."
---
Rowanne Steele thought she had it all. A perfect marriage to Jett Carter, heir to the Carter empire, and a future filled with love. But when Jett dies in a tragic car crash, her world shatters. Her mourning days aren't over, still clinging to his memory, drowning in grief and loyalty to the man she thought she knew.
Until one night, a hidden truth rises from his belongings and everything Rowanne believed about her husband was a lie.
Lost and heartbroken, she runs into the only arms that feel safe, Eli Carter, Jett's younger brother.
What begins as a moment of comfort in the rain turns into a mistake neither of them can forget. A mistake that feels far too much like fate.
Rowanne swears it can't happen again. Eli refuses to let go. Whether forbidden or not, he's determined to claim her. And this time, he won't lose.
7.5
"I know you're pregnant, Valentina. That's why you have to die tonight. Two lives for the price of one, efficiency was always my strong suit."
On her third wedding anniversary, Valentina was gifted a shallow grave.
Her husband, Kennedy, the man she adored, was never a billionaire. He was a fraud who drugged her, watched her drown in a poisoned bath, and ordered her burial so he could marry his mistress.
He didn't know the gardener would hesitate. He didn't know she would crawl out of the mud, pregnant, broken, and alive. And he never imagined that ghosts would come back with teeth.
Dragged from the storm by Ian Kingston, the Titan of industry, Valentina is saved by a man so powerful that Kennedy is nothing more than a disposable bookkeeper in his empire.
To the world, Ian is a monster.
To Valentina, he is survival.
But Ian doesn't see a victim.
He sees Misha, his vanished wife, the mother of his two children, the woman who disappeared without a trace.
"You have 365 days to prove you aren't her, little bird. Until then, you will sleep in my bed, wear my name, and obey every rule I set."
Trapped in a deadly case of mistaken identity, Valentina signs the contract.
She becomes Misha Kingston, cold, ruthless, untouchable. Wrapped in emerald silk and Ian's dark protection, she walks back into the world that tried to bury her.
The next time Kennedy sees his dead wife, she isn't in a coffin.
She's in the arms of his boss. Wearing a queen's crown. Looking down at him from a throne of gold.
But as Ian's control turns into obsession, Valentina faces an impossible truth.
She is hiding a child conceived by her enemy... While being claimed by a king who refuses to let her go.
He buried a wife.
He's about to kneel before a Goddess.
8.2
Ashley was tied to a rusted iron pillar in an abandoned warehouse, the noxious fumes of gasoline soaking her clothes.
Her fiancé Devon and her stepsister Brittany stood before her, revealing a horrifying truth. Devon never saved her from that fatal car crash three years ago; he merely stole the credit.
Worse, Brittany smirked and confessed that Ashley's own father had orchestrated her mother's murder. Before Ashley could process the betrayal, Devon callously tossed a lighter. A wall of blistering heat instantly consumed her. Even when Bennett Hawkins, the cold and untouchable billionaire, rushed into the inferno to shield her with his body, they were both swallowed by the explosion.
As the fire melted her skin, Ashley died with agonizing hatred. Why did her own flesh and blood want her dead? What dark secret were they hiding about her mother's tragic death?
Opening her eyes again, freezing saltwater violently flooded her lungs.
She was back at her twentieth birthday yacht party, right after Brittany had secretly pushed her into the freezing Hudson River.
Staring at the hypocritical faces of her family pretending it was an accident, Ashley didn't cry or beg. She calmly snatched a phone and dialed 911.
"Yes. I need to report an attempted murder."
9.2
Five years ago, I faked my death in a yacht explosion just to escape my ruthless, controlling husband, Gerald Sinclair. Now, I have returned to Boston as the new Dean of Medicine at St. Jude Hospital.
My only goal was to secretly check on my seven-year-old daughter, Cassidy. But what I saw shattered my heart. She was locked inside a heavily guarded VIP suite like a prisoner, so psychologically broken that she was standing on a windowsill, ready to jump.
Gerald's armed security team treated the hospital like a military base, forcing her to swallow heavy psychiatric pills. When she managed to escape through the air ducts and collapsed into my arms in the courtyard, her small, feverish body trembled violently.
"No! I don't want to go back to the white room!"
She begged me, crying in terror. But because my identity was a secret, I could only watch helplessly as Gerald's security chief tore my own child from my embrace and locked her back in the cage.
I didn't understand why Gerald would rather destroy our daughter's mind than let us go. Was his twisted obsession and need for control worth driving his own flesh and blood to the brink of death?
Now, my cover is blown. Gerald just received the message that I am alive, and he is flying back in a blind rage, freezing my accounts and locking down the entire city to trap me.
But he forgot one thing. I am no longer the helpless wife he backed into a corner. This time, I am taking my daughter back.
9.0
Ellen had spent ten years cleaning her husband's home, a quiet devotion to the man who demanded her constant labor. But while vacuuming under their bed, her world shattered with a single, horrifying discovery. Hidden away was a secret phone, revealing a life her husband had built with another woman and child for the past eight years.
A decade of devoted homemaking for Adrian in their Los Angeles home was Ellen’s life. While cleaning, she found a hidden compartment and a new iPhone, which she shockingly unlocked. The wallpaper revealed Adrian with a secret family in Austin—a double life since her own pregnancy. Texts detailed a $1.2 million house and lavish expenses for “Angel.” Adrian stirred, forcing Ellen to hide the device. Her son was denied a $200 class, while her $50,000 inheritance funded Adrian’s secret family. Rage replaced her tears. Ellen photographed all incriminating details, hid the phone, and forced a submissive smile. Her quiet devotion was over; her war had just begun.