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.
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Chapter 5
Aden POV
The Azure Galleria was a temple of excess, a sprawling indoor sanctuary of marble and glass where Jork City's elite came to flaunt their wealth. The air here was thick, suffocatingly heavy with the meticulously crafted pheromones of dominant Alphas and high-society Lunas. It was an invisible, rigid hierarchy of scent, and as I walked through the gleaming corridors in my faded gray hoodie and worn-out sneakers, I was a ghost.
I stepped into Sanderson Profumeria, the crown jewel of the Galleria. The boutique was blindingly pristine, designed in stark, minimalist white that made the colorful, diamond-shaped perfume bottles pop under the spotlights.
Before browsing for Brooklyn's gift, I headed toward the back corridor to use the restroom.
"Excuse me, sir."
A female sales associate stepped into my path. Her makeup was flawless, her smile entirely synthetic. As her eyes dropped to my scuffed sneakers, the smile vanished. I watched her perfectly contoured nose twitch slightly as she took a subtle breath, searching for an Alpha or even a basic Warrior scent. Finding nothing, her eyes hardened with undisguised contempt.
"The restrooms are strictly reserved for our esteemed guests," she said, her tone dripping with polite venom.
The old Aden would have flushed with shame and walked away. But the dormant Lycan in my blood stirred, sending a wave of glacial, calculating anger through my veins. I didn't argue. I just met her gaze with a dead, cold stare.
"I am browsing," I said flatly, stepping around her and continuing down the hall.
As the restroom door clicked shut behind me, I heard her mutter to a colleague, "Scentless and shameless."
I splashed cold water on my face, letting the chill center me. I had a hundred million dollars in my pocket. Their petty judgments meant nothing anymore.
But as I pushed the restroom door open to return to the showroom, a sound froze the blood in my veins. A familiar, breathy giggle.
I stopped behind a sleek display pillar. There, standing at the main counter, were Sylvia and Dixon.
Sylvia was wrapped around Dixon's arm like a parasitic vine, her body pressed flush against his side as she greedily inhaled the dark pine and heavy musk radiating from him. Dixon had his large hand resting possessively on her hip, deliberately pushing his Alpha pheromones into the air to claim his territory.
The mixture of his arrogant musk and her sweet vanilla scent hit the back of my throat. Yesterday, it would have broken my heart. Today, it just made me physically nauseous. Looking at her flushed, fawning face, she looked terrifyingly like a stranger. She wasn't a girl I loved; she was just a hollow shell chasing the strongest scent in the room.
My Lycan roared in the back of my mind—a primal, territorial fury demanding I tear the throat out of the male touching what was once mine. I forced the beast down, watching them closely.
"Oh, Dixon, look at this one," Sylvia cooed, pointing to a stunning, diamond-shaped purple bottle resting on a velvet pedestal under a spotlight.
The sales associate—the same one who had stopped me—beamed. "Ah, the *Liquid Diamond*. Crafted by the legendary perfumer Adelard. It contains pure Moonpetal extract, designed to amplify and beautify a dominant wolf's pheromones to absolute perfection. It is our most exclusive piece."
Dixon puffed out his chest, eager to play the omnipotent future Alpha. "Wrap it up. Only the best for my future Luna."
"Right away, sir," the associate purred. "That will be three hundred thousand dollars."
Dixon's arrogant smirk instantly evaporated. His hand, reaching for his wallet, froze mid-air. He stared at the bottle, his jaw tightening as the reality of the price tag hit him. The Black Moon Pack was wealthy, but dropping three hundred grand on a whim for a college girlfriend was clearly beyond his limit.
Sylvia looked up at him, her eyes wide with greedy anticipation.
Dixon cleared his throat, his face flushing slightly. He quickly pulled his hand back. "Actually... no. That scent doesn't suit you, babe. It's too... aggressive. Let's look at the jewelry store next door."
He tugged her arm. Sylvia's face fell, a flash of bitter disappointment cracking her perfect, submissive mask before she quickly hid it.
Dixon was embarrassed. His Alpha pride had just taken a massive hit in front of his new prize and the store staff. He needed to reassert his dominance, to find someone lower on the food chain to crush.
As he turned, his golden eyes locked onto me standing by the pillar.
His posture instantly straightened, the humiliation morphing into a cruel, predatory grin. He let go of Sylvia and took a step toward me.
"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in," Dixon sneered, his voice echoing loudly in the quiet, pristine boutique. "A 'wolfless' stray sniffing around places he doesn't belong?"
Sylvia turned, her eyes widening in shock before twisting into a look of absolute disgust, as if she had just stepped in something foul.
I didn't flinch. I didn't cower. I just looked past Dixon's broad shoulders, my eyes locking onto the girl who had sold her soul for a man who couldn't even buy her a bottle of perfume.
*Bitch.*
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7.6
I moaned out his name. "Damien, you are not trying hard to get me, yet .."
He smirked and whispered to my ears. "I like being hard, Not "trying" hard."
When Lila Sinclair's mother is sentenced to life in prison, her world collapses overnight. With nowhere else to go, she is taken in by Sebastian Blackwood, her mother's former lover. A powerful, reserved man who agrees to shelter her under strict conditions.
Lila is placed in his household... and into a life she never asked for, sharing a roof with two stepbrothers who change everything.
Damien is danger wrapped in charm...intense, controlling, and impossible to ignore. Ethan, on the other hand, is steady, kind, and grounding...the only place she feels safe when everything else feels like it's slipping away.
But Lila's situation comes with a hidden clause: her stay in the country is temporary. Within 365 days, her legal protection expires. To remain, she must marry one of the Blackwood heirs.
One house. Two brothers. Twelve months of blurred lines, buried secrets, and emotions she was never meant to feel.
As desire clashes with safety and passion wars with peace, Lila is forced into a choice that could secure her future...or destroy it completely.
7.7
My husband, Bennett, and I were New York's golden couple. But our perfect marriage was a lie, childless because of a rare genetic condition he claimed would kill any woman who carried his baby. When his dying father demanded an heir, Bennett proposed a solution: a surrogate.
The woman he chose, Aria, was a younger, more vibrant version of me. Suddenly, Bennett was always busy, supporting her through "difficult IVF cycles." He missed my birthday. He forgot our anniversary.
I tried to believe him, until I overheard him at a party. He confessed to his friends that his love for me was a "deep connection," but with Aria, it was "fire" and "exhilarating."
He was planning a secret wedding with her in Lake Como, at the same villa he'd promised me for our anniversary.
He was giving her a wedding, a family, a life—all the things he denied me, using a lie about a deadly genetic condition as his excuse. The betrayal was so complete it felt like a physical shock.
When he came home that night, lying about a business trip, I smiled and played the part of the loving wife.
He didn't know I'd heard everything.
He didn't know that while he was planning his new life, I was already planning my escape.
And he certainly didn't know I had just made a call to a service that specialized in one thing: making people disappear.
8.0
"Just watch... I'll take you away from that deceitful woman."
Yvette whispered softly, but the resolve in her heart was unshakable.
Her heart shattered as she witnessed the wedding of Aaron-the man she had loved for so long, the very same adoptive brother who once gave her a sense of home-to another woman.
It was no secret.
Aaron knew how she felt.
And yet, he still chose to marry someone else... as if Yvette's love had never meant a thing.
Just when she tried to accept that painful reality, she uncovered a truth far more devastating.
Belinda... was not as kind as she seemed.
The cunning hidden behind her gentle smile only made it harder for Yvette to let go-only strengthened her belief that the man she loved had fallen into the wrong hands.
The love she had once buried deep within her heart had now twisted into something far darker.
An obsession.
Yvette no longer wished to surrender.
She would take back what was meant to be hers... by any means necessary.
Even if it meant destroying their marriage.
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.
9.7
Eighteen months ago, the man I loved shattered my heart, claiming everything between us was a mistake. Now, he's back, a ghost of his former self, a rookie tryout in my pro esports team. And I will make him regret crawling back.
Clifton, captain of a legendary esports team, was secretly battling a severe wrist injury that threatened his career, every match a fight against his own body. He pushed through the pain, ignoring doctors' warnings, desperate to maintain his god-like status.
His world was already on the edge, but nothing prepared him for seeing Justice Terry again in the team basement. Justice, pale and trembling, his eyes wide with naked terror, was now a rookie tryout.
Clifton had spent a year and a half trying to forget that rainy Chicago alley, the raw revulsion in Justice's eyes, the whispered "it wasn't real" that had left him heartbroken. Justice had vanished, and Clifton had erased every trace. Now, the boy who once looked at him like he was the sun was back, flinching at his touch, displaying a deep, primal fear. Amidst sponsor pressure and whispers of being "washed," Clifton saw Justice's return as a chance for vengeance. He publicly humiliated Justice on a live stream, forcing him into a suicide mission, then coldly benched him.
Yet, the satisfaction never came. Instead, a hollow emptiness and a torrent of questions: What had truly happened in the past? Why was Justice here, and what trauma had carved such fear into his bones?
Clifton, unwilling to be fooled again, swore to uncover every secret and every lie. He would force Justice to explain why he had returned, even if it meant tearing down everything they both had left.
7.6
I sold myself to a paralyzed billionaire to pay for my mother's life support.
But my step-sister staged a photo of me with another man, making my new husband think I was a cheating gold-digger.
In a jealous rage, Curtis locked me in a dark panic room.
While trapped, my step-mother sent a picture of her hand on my mom's ventilator plug, forcing me to sneak out to a black-market clinic.
There, they forcibly drained 800cc of my blood to sell.
Half-dead and in severe shock, I dragged myself back home, only for Curtis to confront me with another staged photo of my ex grabbing me outside the clinic.
Believing I had snuck out to see a lover, he ordered his guards to throw my blood-drained body into the freezing wine cellar.
"Please, don't put me down there! I'll die!"
I begged and clung to his wheelchair, but he just kicked my hand away in absolute disgust.
In the pitch-black, 55-degree room, my organs slowly shut down.
I didn't understand why I had to endure this hell, or why he was so blinded by his own fragile ego that he never even noticed how chalk-white my face was.
Hours later, his precious sister needed an emergency transfusion, and they dragged my icy body out to drain me again.
But when the doctor rolled up my sleeve and exposed the horrific, bruised puncture wound, Curtis finally realized the truth.
As he stared at my arm in absolute, paralyzed terror, the EKG machine attached to my chest flatlined.