Novels by Night Raven

Third person POV The underground halls shook with tension as the masked men pushed Valeric toward freedom. His steps were deliberate, his broad shoulders cutting through the torchlight, every movement carrying the authority of a man who had been caged too long. Chains no longer bound him, and the air of confinement seemed to shatter around him as the intruders guided him upward. The mission had gone smoothly so far. Too smoothly. Silent bodies of guards lay sprawled in the corners, their eyes closed in eternal stillness, gas still clinging faintly to the air. The corridors were silent but for the soft scuff of boots and the muted clink of weapons. The leader of the masked men raised a hand, signaling the others to slow. Something wasn’t right. His instincts screamed caution as they neared the exit toward the outer grounds. The air felt heavier, charged, as though danger lurked just beyond the stone walls. They reached the wide corridor that connected the underground passage to t

Third person POV The night settled over the pack house with deceptive calm, cloaking the sprawling estate in silence. Lanterns glowed faintly along the paths, guards patrolled with routine precision, and the vast building itself stood proud, every shadow watched, every corner under supposed control. Yet beneath that veil of order, danger crept closer. The masked men had prepared for weeks, studying the patterns of the guards, learning which routes were most traveled and which cameras left the smallest blind spots. They knew who changed shifts at what hour, which guards lingered too long for a smoke, which doors were rarely locked despite orders. And tonight, with most of the inner circle distracted at the grand company party, their moment had come. From the tree line at the edge of the estate, dark figures emerged. Cloaked, masked, moving with the precision of soldiers who had rehearsed every step. Their boots barely made a sound against the earth, and the wind swallowed what li

Colt's POV The box sat on the table like a silent dare. I had been expecting it since last night, when the messenger whispered through the door that a delivery would arrive before dawn. He didn’t linger—just left the words hanging in the air, along with the certainty that if I opened the door too quickly, I’d find no one there. And now here it was. A plain, square container, brown tape running along the edges, no markings except the small insignia on the corner—a wolf’s head drawn in faint ink, eyes glaring upward. It was subtle enough that no one without knowledge would notice it, but to me it was the signal I had been waiting for. I closed the door to my chambers, twisted the lock until it clicked, and walked to the table. My fingers hovered over the box for a second, savoring the anticipation. Then I tore into the tape, ripping it back, piece by piece, until the lid loosened. Inside lay the suit. Black, sharp, pressed with precision. The material wasn’t just expensive—it wa

Nikolai's POV I never trusted quiet mornings, not in this house, not with everything circling us like vultures waiting for a corpse to hit the ground. Quiet mornings meant someone was out there, sharpening knives while we sipped tea and convinced ourselves the walls were strong enough to keep enemies out. That was why, before the sun even reached its full height in the sky, I was already in the training yard with the guards, barking orders like my life depended on it. In truth, it wasn’t just my life—every soul under this roof, every man and woman working at the company, every wolf wearing our crest depended on us not failing. “Form up!” I shouted, my voice cutting across the courtyard like a whip. The guards snapped into lines, boots stomping against the dirt. Some looked eager, others bleary-eyed, but I didn’t care. Discipline was discipline, and they would learn to wake up with sharpness in their bones or they would leave the post. I paced in front of them, hands behind my ba

Killian's POV I woke up earlier than usual, long before the rest of the house stirred. The silence of dawn wrapped around me like a cloak, pressing heavy and sharp, and I knew today wouldn’t be one of those easy days I could push through without thinking. The company party loomed over us all, but my instincts told me there was more to worry about than wine glasses and polished speeches. My gut rarely failed me, and this morning, it screamed of foul play. I rolled out of bed, stretched, and padded over to the desk in my room. The small lamp on it flickered weakly when I turned it on, casting shadows across the wood. I reached for the notepad hidden in the false bottom of the drawer, pulled it out, and grabbed a pen. Messages couldn’t be sent openly—not when eyes lingered on everything I did—so I wrote in ciphers, the kind only two or three people alive could understand. Short, clipped, disguised as nonsense. *Ravens circle the south. Nets must be stronger. The hound hides bones whe

Rhett's POV The scent of brewed coffee lingered in the kitchen, curling through the air like a soft promise. I set the tray down on the counter, making sure everything was neatly arranged—the eggs, toast, sausages, and a small bowl of fruit. I even added a glass of fresh orange juice. It wasn’t often I took the time to prepare breakfast myself, but for Declan, I found myself doing things I never imagined. I told myself it was to keep him calm, to ease him into the day, but deep down, I knew it was more than that. I wanted him to look at me and not see just the Alpha who locked him in, not the enemy he painted me as. I wanted him to see the man who cared, who would put the world on fire if it meant keeping him breathing. And maybe, just maybe, I wanted him to smile at me without bitterness in his eyes. Balancing the tray with one hand, I picked up the tuxedo draped over my arm. Black, tailored, sharp enough to cut, the kind of suit that screamed command even without words. I had g

Chapter 2Fight Benjamin was startled. Cole stood in the doorway, a paper bag of take-away coffee balanced on one arm, hair tousled from the wind.“I forgot my sketchbook,” he said, gesturing to a table near the props. “Camille said you’d be gone.”“I was,” Benjamin replied, minimizing the image window. “Apparently I wasn’t… really gone.”Cole smiled faintly and crossed the room. “You work late.”“I try not to, but inspiration’s inconvenient.”He tried to sound detached but it didn’t work.Cole placed one of the coffees beside him. “For the inconvenience.”Benjamin’s first instinct was to refuse, but the warmth of the cup and the sincerity in Cole’s eyes disarmed him. “You bribed your photographer.”“Maybe I’m bribing the man who forgot to eat dinner.”Benjamin laughed quietly. It was the first real sound between them that wasn’t an instruction or a shutter click.They sat opposite each other, the glow from the monitor painting them in blue light. For a while, the only sound was the

Chapter 1: The ShootThe Rue des Écoles was still slick from a morning drizzle when Benjamin Carter stepped out of the cab, camera case in one hand, coffee in the other. Paris smelled of wet stone and espresso, an intoxicating mix he’d never quite shaken.Inside the studio, the assistants were already humming through their checklist. Lighting rigs warming up, fans testing their soft whir, racks of couture shimmering like captive stars. Benjamin moved through the space with quiet precision, eyes sharp and taking note of everything. It was his first campaign since his hiatus, and though he’d photographed icons and royals, this job felt different. He needed it to work.“Model’s running ten minutes late,” murmured Camille, his long-time producer. “Newcomer from Barcelona. Cole Reyes.”“Newcomer?” Benjamin arched a brow. “For this campaign?”Camille shrugged. “The designer insisted. Said he has the kind of face that makes you forget the concept.”Benjamin muttered something about unpredict

Chapter Nine Possession Grant’s weight pressed him down, the full length of his body grinding over Daniel’s, pinning him in place like prey. Every shift of muscle sent sparks of agony-pleasure through Daniel’s nerves until he was trembling, clawing at the carpet.“Beg louder,” Grant murmured, his voice a low growl against Daniel’s throat.Daniel could barely breathe, but the words spilled anyway. “Please, please don’t stop, please take me, I’ll do anything—”Grant’s mouth crashed onto his, swallowing the desperation, his tongue merciless and claiming. Daniel arched upward into him, gasping when Grant’s thigh shoved harder between his legs, grinding deep into the aching bulge.Grant’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of Daniel’s jeans, his progress deliberately slow and Daniel nearly sobbed. The touch was maddening—barely there, cruelly teasing, dragging over damp skin without relief.“You’re soaked,” Grant whispered, his lips brushing Daniel’s ear. “All this just from begging. You

Chapter EightFirst TasteThe weight of Dr. Lawson’s hand in Ethan’s hair was devastating.After weeks of denial, the simple touch shattered him. His body collapsed forward, cheek pressed against Dr. Lawson’s thigh, his moan muffled and raw. It felt obscene to tremble like this from nothing more than fingers tangling in his hair, but his cock throbbed like it was about to burst, dampness spreading hot through his jeans.Dr. Lawson didn’t move for a long moment. He just let Daniel kneel there, clutching fistfuls of his own thighs, panting like a sinner kneeling before God.Then, with a controlled tug, he lifted his head. Their eyes locked, and Daniel thought he might combust.“Pathetic,” Dr. Lawson murmured. “One touch and you’re undone.”Daniel swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “I—I can’t help it.”“You can,” Dr. Lawson corrected coldly. “You just won’t. That’s the difference. You’ve chosen this weakness. You’ve chosen to let me reduce you.”Dan

Chapter SevenThe Breaking PointDaniel barely remembered the drive.He’d spent all night pacing, sweating, aching. Four days into the fourteen-day sentence and he was already unraveling. Every time his hand even hovered near his cock, Dr. Lawson’s voice cut through his head. He couldn’t escape it. He couldn’t silence it.By the time he walked into the office, his cock was already swollen, aching, shamelessly straining against his jeans.Dr. Lawson didn’t look surprised, he never looked surprised. He simply gestured to the couch. “Sit.”Daniel sat, jittery, restless, his body humming with need.“Tell me,” Dr. Lawson began smoothly, “what you imagined last night.”Daniel shook his head, humiliated. “No.”Dr. Lawson’s gaze sharpened. “You came here because you can’t stop thinking about me. Don’t insult me with denial.”Daniel’s cock pulsed violently. He dragged a hand over his face. “You don’t get it. It’s… wrong.”“Wrong,” Dr. Lawson echoed, voice even. “And that’s why it excites you.”

Chapter SixConfessionDaniel swore he wouldn’t come back.He had spent the weekend furious, storming around his apartment like a feral thing, jerking off with vicious determination—then stopping, teeth gritted, because he could hear that voice ‘No’.Every orgasm he stole since breaking the first assignment felt wrong, empty and unfulfilling. He came and hated himself for it. Came and pictured Dr. Lawson watching, arms folded, eyes cold.By Monday, he was wrecked enough to admit it: he couldn’t stop thinking about him. Couldn’t stop needing the sessions.So he showed up anyway.When Dr. Lawson opened his notebook, Daniel spat, “I don’t even know why I’m here.”“Yes, you do,” Dr. Lawson replied smoothly.Daniel’s jaw locked.“You’re here,” Dr. Lawson continued, “because you can’t handle what happens to you when you disobey me. You need structure and you need control.”Daniel barked a laugh, it sounded harsh and cracked. “Control? You’ve taken every ounce of control I have!”Dr. Lawson’

Third person POV A YEAR LATER… The grand hall sparkled like a star-studded night, every chandelier casting a warm golden glow over hundreds of guests dressed in their finest. The soft hum of classical music floated through the air, but it was quickly drowned out by the chaos of tiny feet and mischievous giggles. “Jay! Stop stepping on your tux!” Julian hissed, running after the little boy who decided a full sprint down the aisle was an excellent idea. “Jay took my bowtie!” Miles wailed from the side of the stage, his tiny arms flailing as Cassiel struggled to pin a fresh flower on his blazer. “I swear these twins will age me backwards,” Cassiel muttered, picking up Miles while ducking to avoid a flying cupcake. Meanwhile, Ray and Amie were in a full-on frosting war with Jess, Lucien’s daughter, who had somehow managed to hide under the dessert table and launch sneak attacks. “I’m going to count to five!” Gavin warned, covered in tiny pink handprints as he tried to pull R

Third person POV The murmurs in the hall died down the moment Enzo stepped onto the platform. Cameras clicked. Eyes turned. Behind him stood a massive digital screen flashing the golden logos of Cruz Tech and Takahashi Dynamics. The press conference was in full swing, but his attention wasn’t on the audience. It was on her. Reina sat poised beside him, dressed in a pristine white pantsuit with subtle embroidery lining the sleeves—elegant, sharp, stunning. Her lips were tinted the same rouge she always wore, but tonight her eyes glittered with something different. Accomplishment. And maybe… anticipation. When they signed the final document, sealing the billion-dollar collaboration, applause erupted. Reina extended her hand to Enzo like a business partner would, but the spark in her gaze didn’t belong in a boardroom. He didn’t shake her hand. Instead, he leaned in slightly and murmured, “We’re celebrating. Just the two of us.” She tilted her head. “Where?” “You’ll see.”

Third person POV The restaurant was a rooftop gem nestled in the heart of the city, softly lit with warm amber lights that glimmered like tiny stars against the deepening twilight. A gentle breeze kissed the air, carrying with it the faint aroma of grilled herbs and freshly baked bread. Enzo adjusted the cuffs of his blazer, stealing a glance at his watch before looking back at the entrance. He wasn’t nervous. At least, that’s what he told himself. Then the elevator doors slid open with a chime, and there she was—Reina. Her long black hair was twisted up, a few strands falling to frame her face. She wore a satin wine-colored dress with a slit up the side that swayed gently as she walked toward him. “You’re punctual,” she said, her voice teasing, but softer than usual. “And you’re stunning,” he replied with a small smirk, gesturing for the waiter. “Shall we?” She nodded and followed him to the table, set near the edge of the rooftop where the view of the skyline shimmered

Third person POV Time had gone by, and the Morelli castle estate was once again buzzing with laughter, movement, and the smell of food wafting from the kitchen. It was always lively they all gathered like this, and even though everyone had grown busier with different countries and careers, there was something about this old place that drew them all back like moths to a flame. Julian was the first to arrive with Cassiel, holding hands with their twin boys, Jay and Miles, who dashed across the marble floor the second they entered, screaming something about winning hide and seek. Julian just shook his head and muttered under his breath, “We didn’t even say hello yet.” Cassiel chuckled, his hand resting gently on Julian’s waist. “They’ve missed this place. Let them run.” Miss Maria emerged from the kitchen like a war general, hands on her hips and a floured apron on. “Don’t you let those boys break my flower vases, Julian Morelli!” “They’re not my vases,” Julian countered with a

Third person POV Enzo stepped out of the towering glass building, shaking hands with the last executive from the deal. His suit clung lightly to his frame, the early afternoon sun warming his back. “Congratulations again, Mr. Cruz,” the assistant from the other firm called. “Appreciate it,” Enzo replied, adjusting his sunglasses with a quick nod before heading to his car. He had finally closed the long-awaited East Asia partnership. He should’ve been exhausted, but the rush of victory had him grinning. He slid into the backseat of his black SUV and glanced at his watch. “Let’s stop by the shopping district,” he told his driver. “I need to pick up something.” “For the board?” the man asked. “No. For the people I care about,” Enzo muttered, pulling out his phone and scrolling through a list of names. “Get me the best chocolate for Miss Maria, something sleek for Julian’s desk, vintage wine for Cassiel—make that two bottles—and a custom brush set for Imani.” The car slid

Third person POV The sun hung low, casting molten gold streaks across the tinted glass walls of Evosync Towers, the headquarters of Enzo Cruz’s AI gaming company. The skyline of the city buzzed with activity, but inside the building, the tempo was at a completely different rhythm — one faster, sharper, and unforgivingly precise. Enzo stood at the front of the sleek black boardroom, dressed in a crisp navy suit, his lean frame a perfect blend of calm authority and focus. Behind him, a large LED screen flashed a rotating mockup of Project Ion Realm, their latest immersive game launch expected to reshape AI-driven gameplay. His voice was calm, confident, but clipped — he hadn’t slept more than four hours in days, yet his mind worked at full throttle. “Phase four of the development will begin in two weeks. I want 3D render optimization accelerated, voice AI feedback finalized, and server infrastructure tested in sandbox by the end of this month,” he said, eyes scanning his board of