Novels by Night Raven

Colt's POV I stood at the podium under the spotlight, microphone warm in my hand, looking out at the sea of tuxedos and gowns. The applause from my introduction had died down, and the room waited for me to kick things off. My jaw still ached a little from the night before, but the healing shift had done its job. No one would notice. "Good evening again, everyone," I said, leaning in just enough to make it feel casual. "Dinner was incredible, right? Give the chefs another round of applause." The crowd obliged, clapping toward the kitchen doors where the staff peeked out and waved. "Tonight isn't just about eating and looking pretty," I continued. "We've got speeches, auctions, games, and a few surprises to keep you on your toes. First up, the man who makes all this possible, our president and alpha, Rhett Valdez." I stepped aside as Rhett rose from the head table. He walked up with that steady stride everyone knew, took the podium, and adjusted the mic height without fuss. The ro

Third person POV The grand ballroom of the Valdez estate gleamed under strings of golden lights that stretched from one end to the other like a canopy of stars brought indoors. Black and gold dominated the color scheme, with long tables draped in crisp linen, centerpieces of dark roses and flickering candles, and banners bearing the pack crest hanging from the high beams. The air carried the scent of fresh flowers mixed with expensive cologne and the faint hint of anticipation that always accompanied large gatherings of powerful people. Staff moved efficiently through the space, adjusting silverware, topping off champagne flutes on passing trays, and directing early arrivals to their assigned areas. The string quartet in the corner played soft classical pieces, the notes floating over the low hum of conversation as guests began to filter in. Outside, the red carpet stretched from the valet drop-off to the main entrance, flanked by velvet ropes and subtle security in tailored suits

Killian POV I woke up to Nikolai's alarm blaring at six sharp, the same annoying chime he'd used for years because it was the only one that actually got him out of bed. He was already half up, reaching to silence it, but I grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down against me. "Five more minutes," I mumbled into his neck. "We have the morning briefing at seven," he said, but he didn't fight when I rolled him under me and kissed him quiet. We didn't get five minutes. We got twenty, tangled in sheets and each other, until his phone buzzed with a text from the office manager reminding us the caterers needed final approval by eight. I groaned and let him go. "Fine. Shower. Coffee. World domination." He laughed and shoved me toward the bathroom. By six forty-five we were downstairs. Nikolai in a dark suit, tie still loose, hair damp. Me in jeans and a button-down because I refused to wear a full suit before nine unless someone was dying. The kitchen was chaos. Coffee brewing, toast

Colt's POV I slammed the door to my room hard enough to make the frame rattle, but it didn’t help. My jaw throbbed where Rhett’s fist had landed, a hot pulse that matched the anger burning in my chest. Brother or alpha or whatever the hell he wanted to be tonight, he had no right. I grabbed my keys off the dresser, shoved my wallet in my pocket, and headed for the garage. The bike started with a roar that felt good, too loud for the quiet night. I didn’t bother with a helmet. I just twisted the throttle and shot down the driveway, gravel spitting behind me. The cold air slapped my face, stung the split in my lip, but I welcomed it. Anything to drown out Rhett’s voice calling me a useless fool. I rode aimless for a while, letting the roads twist under the wheels, but my hands knew where they were going even if my head didn’t want to admit it. Twenty minutes later I pulled into the gravel lot of The Rusty Nail, the dive bar on the edge of town where nobody asked questions and the be

Rhett's POV I sat behind my desk staring at the reports Killian and Colt had just dropped in front of me. Adrian Wilder Corporation's stock had taken a nosedive, Meridian was scrambling to distance themselves, and the leaked files were already making rounds in every finance chat that mattered. It was a clean kill. They had done exactly what I sent them to do. Killian leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "We didn't even have to raise our voices much. Declan’s dirt did the heavy lifting." Colt dropped into the chair across from me, stretching his legs out. "Guy's face when his shares started tanking was priceless. Like someone kicked his favorite dog." I nodded once. "Good work." Nikolai lingered by the window, hands in his pockets. He waited until Killian and Colt filed out before he spoke. "You need to ease up on Declan." I looked up sharp. "Not now." "Yes, now," he said, voice steady. "He didn't go behind your back to hurt you. He did it to protect you. To protect all

Declan's POV I rolled the bike into the garage beside Colt’s and killed the engine. The quiet after all that roar felt heavy, like the night itself was holding its breath. My knuckles were scraped, lip split, but the adrenaline still buzzed under my skin in a good way. Colt swung off his bike, pulled off his helmet, and grinned at me through the dim light. “That was exactly what I needed,” he said. “Me too.” I handed him the spare key. “Thanks for the escape route.” He pocketed it and clapped my shoulder. “Anytime you need to punch some idiots or outrun your feelings, you know where I keep the bikes.” I laughed once. “Night, Colt.” “Night, Dec. Try not to get murdered by the alpha before breakfast.” I flipped him off as he headed toward the guest wing. I stayed in the garage a minute longer, letting the cool air settle on my face, wiping blood from my lip with the back of my hand. The house was dark, most of the pack asleep or pretending to be. I didn’t want to deal with anyon

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