Dogs Butt Bleeding Novels & Stories

Amber Reegan: The night I rejected my manipulative mate and stood up to my abusive father was the last night I spent in our pack. As the weak, Omega child of my father, I'm seen as a total waste of sperm and he has wanted nothing more than to get rid of me. And that night, my father found the perfect time to banish me. I wandered off into the wild forest, cradling my bleeding heart. Somehow, I winded up on the territory of Nightwalker pack and had to face their ruthless Alpha, Raze Von Miller. A one-time meeting stretched out into something intimate and I'm left wondering if he's the home I've been in search of all my life. Alpha Raze: When my patrol men found an intruder on the borders, it felt like the same old shit. Not until I saw who the intruder was. I was awestruck by her puffy, amber eyes and I knew I wanted more with her. Having her as my surrogate mate was not enough. I needed her to stay with me forever and trust me with the secrets that keep her crying at night. I needed her to feel safe with me. But one day, I woke up to the reality that she was more than just some random stray. It was thrilling and devastating to know there was more to the frail werewolf who stole my heart at a glance…

“The contract was only for a year, Mr Gray. I marry you for one year and you stay the fuck away from my properties,” her tone was high-pitched annoyance and anger. “You got it all wrong, sugar. The contract was to quench my thirst for you but all you did was fuel that desire. Now, I want to own you. Your body, heart and fucking soul,” that honeylike baritone was void of its usual teasing now. He meant every word of it. There was no escape for her. ********** As she lay on the operating table, bleeding to death from an abortion her husband, Regal had arranged, Claire saw her life flash before her eyes. Even in her dying state, he refused her a transfusion because donating blood would ‘hurt’ his unborn child. The words pierced through her heart. The man she'd given her world to chose her sister over her without blinking. But then life smiled at her and she was given a second chance to correct her mistakes. What happens when she gambles this chance by stealing from the famous trillionaire, Asher Gray? What will be her fate when he barges into her life and overturns her world with his wicked seduction? When life throws Regal at her feet, begging for a second chance, when old flames ignite, will she let go of the past and forgive or pursue the prospect of a beautiful new love?

The boy, George Larson, whom I once saved as a child, when he was struggling with asthma, repaid my kindness by imprisoning me for seven long years. "Luna, you're my everything. I won’t let you out of my sight," he said, his voice filled with obsession. He tied my hands and feet, keeping me bound to the bed like a helpless doll, but I did not love him; I wanted to escape. In his madness, he set fire to my family’s ancestral home. The last traces of the Sachs burned to ashes, disappearing into the wind. He said that since my home was gone, I could just live with him and that it would be my new home. However, because I refused to let him touch me, he found someone else—a girl with a beauty mark under her eye, just like mine. The girl, drunk on his affection, thought I was trying to imitate her by faking the same tear-shaped mark. In a fit of jealousy, she gouged out my eyes. My face was covered with tiny, bleeding holes, blood streaming down my body. When George came home, the girl gleefully stuffed me into a trash bag, proud of her handiwork. “George, look! I caught some trash that broke into the house!” George did not even glance at me. He just loosened his tie, his voice calm and detached. “Just toss it where trash belongs.”

As Gamma of the Creed Pack, I'd held the Northern Border alone for three full years. Every time I called in to ask when I could come home, my mate — the Alpha of Creed — picked up the phone himself. He told me the rogues weren't cleared. He told me the rival packs were still circling. He said, "Nora. One more year. Once we have completely eliminated all our enemies, I will hold the grandest mating ceremony for you. I swear it on the Moon." I believed him. When I dragged myself out of a pile of dead rogues with a silver arrowhead still lodged an inch from my heart, bleeding too fast for a medevac, my warriors had to shift and run me back in wolf form all the way to Creed territory. The moment we crossed the border, I saw fairy lights strung from every streetlamp along the road to the pack house. Pack wolves on the sidewalks were talking loud, smiling at each other. "The Alpha's Mating Ceremony is tonight. He's taking the Elder's daughter as Luna. Three years of peace on the border. It's a good time to be Creed." I coughed dark blood into the fur on the back of my warrior's neck and laughed, short and bitter. He hadn't needed me holding the border. He just hadn't wanted me home.

She died on Christmas Eve—betrayed, hunted, and sacrificed by the mate who promised her forever. But the Moon Goddess isn’t done with Mara Hartwell. Returned to the past with only days before her doomed wedding, Mara is given one impossible path to survival: Make the Alpha who refuses to celebrate Christmas fall in love with her. Alpha Aldrich Valtor is everything danger should look like—cold, feared, marked by a Christmas Eve tragedy that shattered him, and bound to secrets no one dares question. He doesn’t want a mate. He doesn’t believe in fate. And he certainly doesn’t celebrate Christmas. Yet when Mara crosses into his world—bleeding, desperate, and more alluring than she should be—something inside him answers. A contract becomes a lifeline. A stranger becomes a shield. And a forbidden pull neither understands begins to burn between them. But the past is never far behind. Enemies circle. Old debts rise. Shadows whisper of curses, rituals, and a truth that could ruin them both. As Christmas draws near, Mara must decide whether to trust the dangerous Alpha who could save her life… or break her heart worse than destiny ever did. Because this Christmas, survival isn’t guaranteed. Love might be the only thing powerful enough to rewrite fate—and it might also be the price.

My sister had struggled with depression since childhood. The doctor warned that she could not tolerate any kind of stimulation. As a result, my entire life fell silent. To avoid upsetting her, I never dared to laugh at home. I never dared to cry. When I got hurt, I did not even have the right to say it hurt. My parents would hug me with apologetic expressions and say, "You're the good one. Your sister's illness requires the whole family to work together. You're healthy. You're strong. Let her have more, okay?" One day, I accidentally knocked over a cup. The crash sounded enormous in the quiet room, and my sister's emotions shattered at once. My father struck me for the first time. He roared, "Can't you be careful? Do you have to push her until she dies before you're satisfied?" He shoved me to the floor. The back of my head slammed against the corner of the table, and blood poured out. But my whole family rushed to my screaming sister. No one even glanced at me. I lay on the cold floor as my vision blurred and my consciousness began to fade. To them, my sister's feelings were the only emergency. My small injury could wait. They did not know that bleeding inside the skull does not wait.

After my older sister Rachelle came home from dialysis, the atmosphere at home was suffocating. She curled up on the couch, thin as a rail. She was nagging me hard and telling me not to tire myself out too much at work. Dad was by the door smoking. To get money to treat Rachelle’s condition, he had sold our old house and land. Dirty and muddied, my fiance, who had always viewed Rachelle as a sister of his own, brought home his week’s salary. They all lamented how unfair life was to already poor and suffering people who had to suffer even more. I looked at myself in the mirror with my bleeding nose and flushed away the report with my acute leukemia diagnosis. During dinner, Dad suddenly said, “Ryleigh, Rachelle needs a kidney. You’re healthy and young. You might be a match.” I looked at Rachelle’s pleading eyes and coldly put my cutlery down. “I won’t do it. I’ll be a cripple with one less kidney. How am I supposed to find someone to marry then?” Dad slapped me hard, even as my fiance called me ungrateful. I slammed the door shut as I left. I looked for the nearest room to the hospital to rent so that I could wait it out until I died. The room I found was only five blocks away from the organ donation center.

As the Principessa of the Falcone family, I craved danger and absolute freedom. But on my ninety-ninth attempt to escape my arranged marriage, Vito Moretti finally caught me. My dangerously handsome betrothed cornered me at an underground racetrack. "No one walks away from me, Liliana," he smirked from his modified Mustang. "You're the first." With my weakness for dangerous men, I made a life or death wager. "Beat me on the track, and I'll marry you. Lose, and you get out of my life." Our engines roared as we tore along the cliffside road, its curves dangerously free of guardrails. Nearing the finish line, I took a turn too fast and hurtled toward the edge. But just inches from victory, Vito jerked his wheel. He slammed his car into mine, knocking me to safety as his own plunged into the icy bay below. I scrambled down the cliff, terrified, and dragged his bleeding body from the water. "I lost," he gasped, life fading from his eyes. "You're free." My heart shattered into a million dazzling pieces as tears streamed down my face. Startled by my reaction, Vito swore softly. "Don't cry. I'll tell our fathers the broken engagement was my choice. No one will dare lay a finger on you." I sobbed and pressed my lips to his. "To hell with the bet, Vito Moretti. I'm marrying you!"

My mother-in-law, Claire Rogers, had taken a turn for the worse with her leukemia and slipped into a coma. The doctors said she needed a bone marrow transplant urgently. I called my husband, Martin Hughes, the hospital director who had access to the bone marrow registry. All he had to do was sign off on the match, and she would be saved. Martin answered right away and drove straight to the hospital without a second thought. However, halfway there, he got a mysterious call and vanished without a trace. I watched Claire Roger's heart monitor grow weaker and weaker, frantically dialing Martin's number 99 times. On the 100th call, he finally picked up. My voice was shaking, panic bleeding through every word. "Martin, Mom needs the bone marrow transplant. You're the only one who can authorize the match. Please, come back!" All I heard was his quiet breathing on the other end. Before he could say anything, Waverly Tucker's voice cut through the silence."Darling, thank you so much for doing my bone marrow transplant surgery! How about I repay you with my body?" My phone slipped from my hands and crashed to the floor. So, that was where he had been all this time, performing surgery on Waverly. While I desperately needed him, he had abandoned his family to be with another woman.

My fiancé was sleeping with my maid of honor. I caught them the night before our wedding. I didn't make a sound. I closed the door, walked back to my bridal suite, and sat at the vanity until my hands stopped shaking. Then I grabbed my keys. At two in the morning I drove forty blocks across Manhattan and knocked on Atlas Marchetti's door. Two years ago I'd told my family I wouldn't marry him. He hadn't said a word about it since. He opened the door in pajama pants. "Marry me tomorrow," I said. He didn't say yes. He poured himself a drink first, listened to everything, and then handed me a piece of paper with terms I should have read more carefully. I signed at dawn. Six hours later I walked down the aisle Carter and I had planned. The Plaza ballroom. The dress I'd chosen in spring. Three hundred guests who came to watch me marry the wrong man. I married someone else instead. Carter watched it happen. He didn't understand yet what he'd lost, and he wouldn't understand for months. Not until he found out who owned the company he ran, and how long Atlas had been bleeding it. I went to Atlas for revenge. He'd been writing this for two years.