Novels by Night Raven

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

Author's POV The night air was tense, humming with silence like a tightly coiled spring. Every creak of the hospital floor and faint whisper of wind outside felt like a warning. The corridors were eerily still, and although the hospital still operated with nurses and minimal staff, the areas surrounding Declan’s and Nikolai’s rooms had been cordoned off and turned into fortified spaces.The plan had been finalized mere hours ago, and now it was being put into motion with clockwork precision.Killian moved first. He stood beside the real Declan's hospital bed, his face stony, eyes flicking to the time on his wrist. The underground safe house had been prepared ahead of time, hidden deep beneath one of the council’s lesser-known outposts. It had been unused for nearly a decade, but in light of recent betrayals, its obscurity made it the safest option.Two elite guards slipped silently into the room. They nodded at Killian, who was already slipping on a medical gown and adjusting the sli

Rhett's POVI didn’t like the way the air felt.We were deep underground, in the command wing of the facility, but something about the tension in the room was louder than any alarm. Killian stood to my right, stiff and alert. Across from us, three elite operatives hovered over the digital map projected on the war table. And around us, seven more guards lined the walls, fully geared, awaiting my orders.Then came the sound of boots—scuffed, panicked.A pair of guards burst into the room. One was limping, his thigh bleeding through the gauze wrapped hastily around it. The other looked better off, but the grim look on his face told me everything before he even spoke.“We couldn’t get him, sir,” he announced.My stomach twisted.“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice calm but sharp.The injured one stepped forward, teeth clenched in pain. “We reached the safe house in Sector 4. Everything looked quiet. But there were traps—explosives, false footprints, surveillance jammers. We barely made

Author's POVTension weighed heavy in the dimly lit underground chamber where the female assassin paced restlessly. Her boots tapped against the cold cement, the sound rhythmic and sharp, a stark contrast to the low murmurs coming from her team who gathered around a table littered with blueprints, maps, and surveillance photographs. The air was humid, suffocating, but none of them seemed to care. They were used to it—this kind of darkness, the stench of gunpowder and secrets.Her name was Kaelara, though most knew her only as “the Widow.” Tall, sleek, and ruthless, her eyes burned with a feral resolve as she reviewed the plans once more. Her group—composed of elite mercenaries, hackers, and stealth operatives—had been moving from one hidden location to another since their last near-exposure. Every step now had to be calculated.She leaned forward, eyes narrowing on a digital projection of two buildings displayed on a tablet—the twin hospitals where Declan and Nikolai wer

Killan's POVI didn’t even realize how long I had been pacing until the nurse who passed me a few minutes ago was already returning with a fresh set of charts. I paused only when the beep of Declan’s monitor spiked momentarily, his heart rate jumping before settling again. I turned immediately, stepping into the room where he lay with gauze wrapped around his eyes and multiple machines beeping low in the background.Declan still wasn’t talking much, but earlier he managed a full sentence—raspy and broken—but still him. The doctors were going through every scan, running every test possible to understand how his optic nerves had been damaged. Whether it was the injury during the attack or a reaction to the tampered IV drip, no one could tell me yet. And that silence was eating me alive.My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I dragged a palm down my face before picking it up.“This is Killian,” I said without checking the caller ID.“We’ve confirmed it.” The voice bel

Author's POV The room was silent, except for the soft hum of machines and the faint beeping of monitors. Nikolai lay in the middle of it all—still, pale, and unmoving—his chest rising and falling with the gentle aid of the ventilator. Days had turned into weeks since the attack. Since his body had been torn apart by savagery, blood loss, and whatever tampering had followed. And though time crawled painfully forward, his condition remained unchanging. Or so it seemed.Dr. Emil Vargas entered the room with slow, quiet steps. He wasn’t supposed to be on duty that morning, but he couldn’t stay away. Not when Nikolai’s case had become something personal. Something haunting. The young man had endured too much to be stuck in limbo. And Vargas had done all he could medically—but he kept coming back, hoping for a miracle. For something. Anything.He checked the monitors out of habit, even though the data hadn’t shifted in days. Oxygen levels steady. Heart rate normal. Brain acti

Author's POVThe beeping of the monitors was steady. A quiet rhythm echoed through the white-washed hospital room where Declan lay motionless, his body still and pale beneath the clinical sheets. The fluorescent lights above flickered slightly, casting sterile shadows on the walls. Then, with a soft groan, Declan stirred.His fingers twitched first. Then his brows furrowed, and a shallow gasp slipped from his lips. A minute passed, then two. The beeping sped up slightly. His eyes opened.But everything was black.He blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Still, darkness. Panic began to rise in his chest like a wave, crushing and cold."W-where... what's going on?" His voice cracked, barely audible.A nurse, who had been checking the drip at the far corner of the room, rushed over with wide eyes. "Declan? Declan, you're awake!""Why can't I see?" he whispered, heart hammering against his ribs.She froze for a second too long, then leaned in. "Declan, can you he

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’