How Much Do Fortune Tellers Charge For A Session?

Nyra Moonchild is wolfless, outcast, and treated like the pack’s mistake in Vandwood. She’s learnt to survive bruises, whispers, and hunger, because mercy is for the strong, and Nyra has never been allowed to be strong. Then fate binds her to Kieran Whitewolf, the future Alpha. For four years, he’s loved her in secret, stolen moments, whispered promises, “Soon.” Soon he’ll claim her. Soon he’ll protect her. But in daylight, Kieran becomes what the pack demands: cold, controlled, untouchable… and Nyra becomes the shame he refuses to stand beside. When the pack pushes another woman toward his side, Nyra finally understands the truth: power won’t make him brave. So she walks away. And one broken night, she strays deep into the woods, rogue territory where pack law doesn’t matter and predators don’t ask permission. That’s where Ronan finds her. A dangerous Alpha with storm in his eyes and a claim he isn’t afraid to make. Now Nyra is caught between the Alpha who won’t choose her publicly… and the Alpha who might burn everything to keep her.

Alessia Volkov, the ice-princess heiress to a powerful Russian syndicate, believes her life is mapped out: a strategic marriage to secure an alliance. But on the night of her engagement gala, her world is shattered. Dante Moretti, the most feared and ruthless Mafia Don in the city, storms the event. His reason? A blood debt owed by her fiancé's family. And he’s taking Alessia as collateral. Dragged from a life of opulent privilege, Alessia is thrown into a gilded cage: Dante’s impenetrable penthouse high above the city. Her defiance is immediate and fierce. She fights him with every weapon she has, venomous words, calculated escapes, and sheer, unbreakable will. But Dante is a master of breaking things. He doesn't use fists; he uses desire. His relentless, calculated seduction is a war of attrition against her body and mind. A rough hand pinning her wrists against the cold glass wall. A bruising kiss that tastes like victory and sin. A whispered threat that sends a shiver of unwanted arousal straight to her core. As the lines between captor and captive blur, a dangerous, twisted passion ignites. Their encounters are explosive battles of dominance and surrender, each feverish fuck chipping away at her resistance until her hatred transforms into a dark, addictive need. She begins to crave his touch, his possession, his punishing cock. But outside their penthouse fortress, enemies are closing in. The very war that brought them together threatens to tear them apart. Alessia must decide: is she the prize in this bloody conflict, or is she the queen destined to rule beside the king who stole her? This is a story of obsession, betrayal, and a love so violent it can only be born in the dark.

After I remarry my wife, Vivian Crowell, I decide to rent her out to other men. When her male best friend, Elliot Everhart, summons her away from me, I no longer kick up a fuss about it. Instead, I charge Vivian by the hour. The rent is 10 thousand dollars per hour during the day, whereas it'll be 20 thousand dollars per hour at night. If it's a holiday, all prices will be tripled. After running my new business for three months, I now have an additional 20 million dollars in my account. Although Vivian has promised to pick out my suit for the banquet with me, Elliot calls her and complains about how he's nicked his finger with a knife when he was cutting vegetables. I don't even bother raising my head as I hand my bank account number over to Vivian. One midnight, I suddenly suffer from a fever. When Vivian is driving me to the hospital, Elliot calls her and claims that he can't sleep due to discomfort caused by his intoxication. I merely pull out my umbrella fluently and tell Vivian to drop me off at the junction ahead. Upon noticing her hesitation, I just smile at her. "Don't forget to transfer the payment to me." On the day our son, Victor Carrington, is going for his regular follow-up appointment, Elliot calls Vivian once again. "Eleanor wants to go to the amusement park. It'll only be fun when we have a woman to accompany us there." After Vivian ends the call, she turns around and is about to crouch down to explain everything to Victor when she sees him mimicking my actions by sticking out his hand at her. "It's fine, Mommy. You can just pay us. But today's rate is the triple kind."

I made a deal with the Devil. My soul, in exchange for seven days on earth after I died. The eleventh hour after my death happened to fall on our third wedding anniversary. The moment I walked through the door, he had just come home from another woman's place. He had an anniversary gift waiting for me. A set of sapphires. But the card tucked beside them bore another woman's name. I spotted a pale lavender hair tie in his hand. Once, I would have fought him over a hair tie like that, all the way from the front hall to the study. This time, I said nothing. It was him who froze instead, staring at me like I was a stranger. "You didn't used to be like this. I almost miss the way you used to fall apart over everything." He was right. The old me would have thrown a fit over something as small as him forgetting to cut my steak. But ever since the miscarriage, my heart had been dying by slow degrees. When I found out I was pregnant, I was overjoyed. I wanted him to be the first to know. But I couldn't reach him, no matter how many times I called. I lost the baby. I hemorrhaged. That very afternoon, while I lay on the operating table, a photo of him and that woman hit the entertainment headlines. He never even knew I had carried a child. Now there was only one last thing I wanted from him. To drive me up to the northern coast, and bury me with his own hands. But when he realized I had truly vanished from this world, he came undone.

When my mother won a million dollars from a lottery ticket, she prepared an envelope for each of her three children. After we opened them, my younger brother and younger sister each found a bank card inside. But from my envelope, two 1-dollar coins clinked onto the floor. Seeing me freeze, a trace of unease flickered across Mother's face. "Cassian," she said hesitantly, "Logan and Sienna suffered a lot growing up because your father passed away so early. So I gave each of them 500 thousand dollars as compensation. "You're the eldest son—like a father to them. Don't fight with them over this, okay?" I glanced down at the faded down jacket I had worn for years, the fabric so worn that it had lost its color. Then, my eyes drifted to my younger brother's limited-edition sneakers and to the designer bag slung over my sister's shoulder. Mother seemed to have forgotten that when Father died, I had only been eight. I smiled faintly. "Alright. I won't fight them for it." Hearing this, Mother let out a long breath of relief. The next second, my voice turned cold. "Then I won't fight for the responsibility of supporting you in your old age either."

My fiance's childhood friend, Tori Kerr, calls him 999 times, begging him to cancel the wedding. "I see it in the tarot cards. You can't get married this year. Cancel the wedding right now." Mikael Jardine hesitates and says, "Tori's tarot readings are always accurate. Let's just listen to her." My temper flares up immediately. The invitations are already sent, and the venue is booked. How can we just cancel it? Seeing that I'm angry, Mikael ultimately decides not to listen to her. In a fit of rage, Tori blocks him. I thought that was the end of it. But on the wedding day, Tori suddenly storms onto the stage. The first thing she does is shout at my mom and ask her to leave in front of the guests. Tori says, "I read it in the tarot cards last night. Your mom's rising sign clashes with Mikael's. She can't attend the wedding. Besides, your mom's just a cleaning lady. She doesn't deserve to be here!"