Imagine a dirt road leading five mile up from the main road to a big old grey stone house surrounded by trees. The house has three storeys and huge bay windows. Inside the house is a main entrance hall with a large sweeping staircase covered in a blood red carpet. If you follow the stairs up to the top floor and follow the narrow hallway towards the end, you will find a door on your left. Open the door and you will find a bedroom with a bed covered in sheets and wool blankets. Inside that bed, buried under the duvets and pillows, you will find my body. This is the story of how I died. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ This is unedited, so there will be mistakes!

"You are never leaving my side again. Not until I know you won't run." He told me. "And I will make sure of it." Then he leant down and started kissing my neck. "Your MINE, and only MINE." He said, slamming me into the wall, and grabbing my hands, putting them above my head. "The only person that will touch you is me." He said, rubbing my pussy with his free hand. "the only name you will be screaming is mine." He whispered in my ear. He took pleasure in torturing and taking lives of rogues. He decided to start a war against them and wipe them all but when his mate turns out to be a rogue, will he stop for her sake or continue with the war that will make her hate him?

Amity always wanted the perfect life with the perfect mate to sweep her off her feet, and carry her off, so they could have the perfect children. Her dream doesn't exactly work out when she discovers her mate is the cruelest Alpha in all of North America. How will poor innocent Amity learn to love the coldest Alpha, and how will her mate learn to love? Especially when another werewolf wants Amity all to himself... cover made by @weeknder HIGHEST RANKING: fantasy ~ #179, werewolf ~ #333 [completed and in need of major editing]

"Tóso ómorfi," someone almost growled behind me. My heart jolted with shock in my chest as I shrieked and whirled around. An imposing man stood before me, his almost-black eyes full of desire. The sleek tuxedo he was wearing fitted the broad expanse of his torso like a second skin. His sun kissed complexion was without flaw and a shadow crept across the shape of his clean shaven jawline. I could smell the bittersweet musk of his aftershave from where I was standing. He was the human vessel of Adonis. In less than two steps, he had strode forwards until he was right in front of my face. I could not breathe. The air was as heavy as lead in my lungs. A second passed. He paused-I allowed the moment I had to recoil from him to dissipate around us-and he gripped my chin hard and pushed his mouth fiercely over mine. I was paralyzed and my mind raced. Why was he in the women's toilets? Frances Hayward is a journalist known for her ice queen demeanour-despite her popular articles discussing the do's and don'ts of romance as alter ego Valerie D'Voire. She is also cursed with the burden of keeping her emotions in check after an accident in her past. Ensuring her dormant state is natural for Frances, but tensions run high and remaining in control proves difficult when she meets Greek bachelor Mr Krieos.