Celia paced in the hall of her living room. The lowly omega was too damn slow! It's been hours since she heard of Daemon's condition, but she had yet to receive an update of how he was doing. "This bitch! She must be doing this on purpose!" Now that a Werewolf Mistress had been chosen, the lowly dogs weren't behaving as obediently and honestly as before. Celia slumped into the couch and frustratedly ran a hand through her burgundy mane. She and Daemon were once a couple. Their love and loyalty towards each other turned many eyes red with envy. Even when that slut appeared 200 years ago, she failed to separate them. However, her death succeeded in forming a crack in their relationship. Recalling the events from 200 years ago, Celia's delicate features turned crestfallen. Why was she the one always struggling? Always clinging onto him and fighting for their love when this bitch popped up? Couldn't the Moon Goddess keep her dead forever? "Princess! Princess! There's bad news!" Rig

"Kids, stay here. I'll go talk to your mother." Zain rose to his feet and fixed his clothes. Then with determination in his eyes, he climbed the stairs and knocked on Naira's door. Knock, knock. "Ira, open the door. I want to talk to you." Silence stretched as he waited for her. A few seconds turned into minutes, and just as he thought she wouldn't answer him, her tired voice sounded through the door. "I have nothing to say to you, Zain. Go back to where you came from." Naira sighed. She was so tired. She didn't want to think about anything or anyone anymore. Just for once, she wanted to sleep her worries away. Daemon was unconscious, and the fucking Council wanted her to marry him. According to their words, his condition could only be healed by his Werewolf Mistress. If she refused, Daemon would die, and the Riverside Pack would hold her responsible. This wasn't what she signed up for. When she agreed to become Daemon's fake girlfriend, she believed she would only be a fi

The supernatural training field was given a complete makeover. The thick layer of ice coating the ground was pressed until the floor was as slick as an ice skating rink and shined like crystal. Viewing stands made out of pure snow surrounded a ring within which a troop of elite warriors in black training gear stood in neat rows. A huge crowd of supernatural creatures had already gathered. Huddled in groups of threes and fives, they chattered in animated voices about the selection of the Werewolf Mistress's personal guard. Under the enthusiastic influence of their fellow pack members, the group of supernatural creatures that arrived with the intention to kick up a fuss immediately lost their momentum and settled down. Acting as if all was well, they merged with the crowd and joined the discussion. On a corner of the ice stands, two figures faced each other. "Are you out of your mind? How can you participate in this competition when you're not even a member of the Riverside Pack?" N

Celia's face turned pale. Again. Her plan failed yet again. Why was it so hard to suppress the prestige of this bitch!? She didn't believe in destiny, and her fate could only be written by her! Even if the Moon Goddess turned her back on her, she refused to accept defeat and vowed to reclaim what was rightfully hers! Her resentful gaze swept over the man in the center of the training field. It was because of him that her plan flopped. Since he ruined her scheme and placed the wolf-less slut on a pedestal, then she would remember to return this debt with interest! Tightly clenching her fists, Celia snorted at the hoard of supernaturals congregating on the training field, threw a hateful glance at the slut bent on snatching her man, then turned and waved through the mob. Her time would come, and when it did, she would remind everyone that disregarded her who Celia Dmitri exactly was! "Daddy is awesome!" Zara cheered. "Of course. He's our dad after all." Zanai proudly puffed out h

Zain felt strange. Just a second ago, he had been bleeding profusely and couldn't get back on his feet from the numbing pain in his arm and thigh. He was determined to win, so he acted as if he sustained grave injuries and remained on the ground to wait for an opportune moment. He had the ability to take down the pack of miscreants. But his chances of victory would decrease if he exhausted himself before the second round of the competition began. Not to mention, he would gather too much attention to himself if he single-handedly defeated the various warriors. So acting gravely injured was his best tactic. But while he was playing the role of a wounded warrior, a tingling sensation transmitted from the areas of his wounds. Within a few seconds, the flow of blood from his injuries decreased, then completely stopped. 'What sorcery is this!?' In the world of supernaturals, there was no such thing as instant healing without potion. Wolves and other shapeshifters had strong recovery abil