Who Wants a Broken Mate is now Available in Bookstores!

I have exciting news!

You can now order and read the fourh book in The Fae Omegas Standalone Series⁠: Who Wants a Broken Mate.

It’s a slow burn reverse harem paranormal romance about another Fae Omega and her mates.

Here are links to some of the stores you can order from >>

Amazon KDP (Ebook) – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BV79CTCP

Universal Book Link – https://books2read.com/broken-mate4

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/ww/en/ebook/who-wants-a-broken-mate

Please leave an honest review on Amazon, Kobo, Goodreads or any of the other stores, thank you!

Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/87557361-who-wants-a-broken-mate


Here is Chapter 1 of the book:

“I know what you are.”

Although my heart skipped a beat, I didn’t laugh nervously or pull at the hem of my uniform like I really wanted to. Because those were things that guilty people would do.

Instead, I casually looked around the back alley we were standing in and perked up my werewolf hearing to ensure that no one was listening in on our conversation. Because if Miro, a middle-grade guard in Lord Westhouse’s trafficking organization’s headquarters, knew what I thought he knew, I would have to end his life.

When he invited me to the cafeteria’s back alley for a talk, I’d thought Miro was yet another guard who had taken a fancy to me after they’d had their fill of all the other personnel in the enclosed trafficking den we were stuck in and was ready to reject him only to get his confession about knowing what I was.

As a trafficked victim turned battle balloon technician in my trafficker’s den, I had many secrets, but from the smug look on his face and the confident way he was standing akimbo, Miro probably knew the secret that could get my brother and me killed or worse.

Thankfully, the cafeteria’s back alley, a hot spot for many illicit activities among Lord Westhouse’s trafficking headquarter personnel, was fairly enclosed. The back alley, which was directly behind the cafeteria, was tacitly managed by the person in charge of the cafeteria and the cafeteria workers, and since Guard Miro and I were the only ones in the grove, he had probably paid for solo use of it.

This was both good and bad because I could probably get away with killing him if I needed to, but it also meant that a couple of people knew I was the last person he met before he died.

Even though I was calculating the possibilities of getting away with murdering him, I didn’t actually want to murder Miro for obvious reasons like the fact that I could get caught doing it and non-obvious reasons like my fear of my alter ego who would inevitably have to do the killing.

So I gave Miro the deadpan look I’d mastered in my one-year stay in this hellhole of a supernatural trafficking den. “I’m sorry what?”

Then I sighed as though I was concerned about his mental health. “Special Guard Miro, did you touch the Iza drugs from Guard James again?”

“Don’t play with me! I didn’t touch any drugs!”

Well, someone was anxious.

I finally looked him in the eyes, then studied his face, pretending to be trying to confirm that he wasn’t on drugs, even though I was trying to stop him from yelling, which could alert any of the cafeteria workers. I knew that he probably knew either of the two secrets that could get me killed or worse. “Okay, okay. So what do you think you know?”

I was still using that deadpan look as usual, as though I felt like he was playing with me.

“I know you’re a woman. Do you know what Lord Westhouse will do when he finds out that one of his balloon technicians is a woman who has been pretending to be a man all along? Ha ha, he’ll order the guards to ravage you in front of everyone in the left house.”

“I don’t have any time for your nonsense. Do you think Lord Westhouse would believe your drivel?” I turned away as though I was going to walk away.

“You better not walk away. I have a friend among the slaves watching your little brother, so you can’t escape even if you want to.”

His words shattered the pretense I was holding on to and I turned to him. “How did you find out?”

“Saw ya taking a bath at Mistress Holland’s.” It took a lot of effort to prevent myself from grimacing in disgust at the thought of him watching me bathe.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t leave because he knew what I was. In a household like Lord Westhouse’s, having one’s secret, especially one as damaging as lying to the head of the house, exposed to anyone was as perilous as having a hangman’s noose around your neck.

As Miro walked closer to me, I moved back one step at a time, frantically trying to come up with a solution.

Unlike most mixed Fae, my magic didn’t function properly, and I didn’t know many powerful spells, other than the one that worked like a glamor to keep my face masculine, so I couldn’t say any awesome spells to make an idiot like Miro forget everything he knew.

Eventually, my back was against the wall and Miro stood in front of me, a salacious grin covering his face.

“What do you want?” I asked to distract him as I tried to think of another solution other than killing him.

“You. All to myself. How about it, hmm? I won’t tell Lord Westhouse that you’re a woman and then you will be my exclusive woman.”

It was only thanks to the control I’d developed over my facial expressions during the year I’d been kidnapped into the Westhouse supernatural trafficking den that I didn’t curl my lips in disgust.

But while I could hold Miro away from me with both hands and all of my strength, I couldn’t stop his large hands from groping my body.

Trying to avoid his hands and preventing him from embracing me became a wrestling match of sorts. However, despite having performed more manual labor than ever before in the year and a half that I had been posing as a man in the Westhouse trafficking den, I still couldn’t match the strength of a full-grown male werewolf like Miro.

Soon he had me pressed to the wall against my will and his hands were moving to places I didn’t want them to go.

I was gradually losing the cold, analytical way of thinking that I’d adopted since my little brother and I got kidnapped into a deadly trafficking den like Lord Westhouse’s. Unfortunately, Miro couldn’t sense the danger in that because he was holding me down with one hand, pulling at my clothes, and using his body to hold down my thrashing body.

When I pulled a hand free and slapped him with it, he got angry and slapped me right back.

The force of the slap made me lose my hearing to a sharp ringing for a few seconds and pushed me to the ground.

“Stupid bitch! Do you want me to call the other guards? So we can all do you before we send you to Lord Westhouse? A little bitch like you even dares to hit me.” He whispered harshly.

Then he pinned me to the floor by the throat, ignoring my unending efforts to break free.

When he started struggling to pull off my pants, I realized I couldn’t talk or reason my way out of this situation.

As soon as fear took away my rationality and hatred at my uselessness filled my heart, everything stopped around me for a moment and the world turned to a weird tinge of blue for a second. Miro, who was kneeling between my thighs and trying to unbuckle his belts, also went still.

Almost instantly, I connected with her. My alter ego. The part of me I didn’t like to remember even existed. The murderer.

With a flick of my fingers, Miro’s eyes widened and his mouth parted as the light left his eyes. Then he fell down, his lifeless body crashing toward me, but I shoved him away with all my strength so that he fell to the side.

I shivered as time started flowing normally. Then I hurriedly pulled up my pants with shaking hands, trying to avoid looking at Miro’s lifeless body.

Since I had killed him with my instinctual magic, I didn’t need to check his pulse to know he was gone.

But instead of being happy about it, I shivered again. Fear clouded my brain not just because I didn’t know how to hide being responsible for Miro’s death, but also because I had killed again with my instinctual magic.

And just like before, once my fear got a hold of me, I lost control.

Just as I was pondering what to do with Miro’s body, loud clattering sounds echoed everywhere alerting me to abnormal activity in Lord Westhouse’s trafficking headquarters, a place organized with an almost iron fist.

When smoke, screaming, and shouting filled the air along with the sounds of people scurrying back and forth, I knew that Lord Westhouse’s trafficking den was under some kind of attack.

The thought of my brother in danger pushed my shock to the back of my mind and got me moving even before my brain had processed the sudden turn of events.

Taking advantage of the growing chaos, I ran to the tent where I last saw my little brother, Rory.

Thankfully, I met him on my way there as gunshots started echoing around the compound. I embraced my brother as tight as I could so that if any bullet strayed close to us, it would hit me instead of him.

From the people running around, I already knew what was going on.

The Westhouse trafficking den was being raided by the Supernatural Council, which meant we were saved.

No one would ever know that I killed Miro and I no longer had to pretend to be a man in this inhumane supernatural trafficking den.

As soon as my brother saw my glazed eyes and disheveled look, which I didn’t have time to hide, he knew something had happened, so he asked as we ran for our lives. “What’s wrong with you?”

But now wasn’t the time to be chatting, or we’d get hit by a stray bullet. And even if we had time, I would never tell him what happened between Miro and me. “Nothing. I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Let’s find a good place to hide. The Supernatural Council is here.”

Sure enough, hearing about the Supernatural Council’s presence was enough to distract him. We had dreamed and prayed for a raid like this to happen since we got here a year and a half ago so we could get our freedom and return to civil society.

And this time, I would try my best to avoid using my disgusting instinctual magic.

I would find a good pack, raise Rory until he was old enough to care for himself while making sure he could pursue his artistic dreams, and then leave the pack to be a rogue once he went off to a prestigious art academy.

Because I knew the fate of women in packs. Most women could only be pawns, trophies, business arrangements to further the pack’s interests, or someone’s whore. And I didn’t run away from the Woodburn pack and the 40-year-old Alpha I was supposed to mate with only to become anybody’s pawn, trophy, or whore.

You can read the first few chapters of the book on Wattpad and Inkitt.

I added 4 slice-of-life bonus chapters to the ebook and I will be sending you one of those chapters by March 1, so please stay tuned.

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