"Ahh!" She writhed in a haze of moans, her body trembling with conflicting sensations. She loathed this man, yet every fiber of her being reacted to his touch. As his hands began to roam along her waist, she sucked in a sharp breath—the sudden pull of her back zipper sent a shiver down her spine. The metal slider halted at the small of her back, and as it opened, her upper back and waist were exposed, baring her skin to the cool air. "D-Don’t—mmph!" Her protest was smothered by the pillow as his fingers caressed her bare spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. With a deep, angry growl, he whispered harshly in her ear, "I'll make you forget every touch, every kiss, every thing about him. From now on, when you're with another man, you'll only see me."

Elara Vance was a withdrawn omega, often overlooked in the Silver Moon Pack for her quiet demeanor and unassuming appearance. But beneath her thick glasses lay a hidden crush on Rhys Knight, the pack's future Alpha and a notorious campus playboy. Rhys scoffed at mate bonds, treating relationships as disposable—until Elara's eighteenth birthday, when he publicly rejected her, turning her into the butt of every joke.

Now, Elara returns transformed—glasses discarded, her hair styled sleek and confident—and Rhys can't take his eyes off her. What if her blood holds a sacred heritage chosen by the Moon Goddess? What if the "humiliation" was part of a larger scheme? And when Rhys, the alpha who once dismissed her, kneels before her new love interest, Liam Thorne, begging for a second chance, who will claim victory in this battle of pride and passion?

Chapter 11: Whispers of a New Romance and Old Wounds


I woke up feeling like death warmed over. My body ached in places I didn't even know could ache, and the hollow space where my wolf should be felt like a gaping wound in my chest. Sunlight streamed through my bedroom window, making me squint as I checked my phone. Nearly noon.


The events of yesterday crashed over me like a tidal wave. Rhys. The rejection. The video. The physical pain that still coursed through my body like liquid fire.


A soft knock on my door interrupted my misery. "Elara? Sweetheart, are you awake?"


She entered carrying a tray with tea and toast, her face creased with worry. "You look terrible, honey. Are you sure you're not coming down with something?"


I sat up slowly, every movement sending fresh waves of pain through me. "I'm okay. Just didn't sleep well."


Chapter 11 - Whispers of a New Romance and Old Wounds