Novels by Tassi Blake

Time: Monday, December 2, 2024 | Early Morning Hours Location: The Pantheon Penthouse, Master Bathroom & Bedroom, The Olympus CasinoThe scent was the first violation.His uncle’s cloying, expensive cologne clinging to her skin. A foul perfume of treachery and weakness.Ava was on her knees in the center of the vast marble shower. Water, neither hot nor cold, beat down on her in a merciless torrent.The torn black dress was now a sodden ruin that clung to her limbs like a shroud.She shivered.It was not from the cold. It was a deep, bone-rattling tremor that started in her soul and worked its way out, a body trying to shake free a poison that had already seeped too deep.Damian stood just inside the shower’s glass door, his own suit soaked through, the fine wool clinging to his frame.His rage was a silent, contained inferno, a pressure that seemed to suck the very air from the room.He saw the new scratches on her arms where she had fought back. He smelled the lingering ghost of Mar

The heavy SUV door slammed shut, a sound of absolute finality.Damian was already in motion. The wounded son had been left behind in the study; the Pakhan was now in command.“Get me to them,” he snapped at the driver. “Now.”The powerful vehicle lurched forward, tires squealing on the private asphalt of the estate as it tore into the night.Damian’s thumb hit a pre-set button on the center console's comms panel. The secure channel opened instantly, the speaker emitting a faint, sterile hiss."Leo."The voice that crackled back was young, jittery, but sharp with adrenaline. "Pakhan."“Marcus staged a rescue,” Damian’s voice was flat, rapid-fire, a string of tactical commands. “He has a photographer. Find the digital trail. I want that upload killed before it completes.”"On it, Pakhan!" Leo replied, the frantic sound of furious typing audible even over the encrypted line. "Got him! He's sloppy. Using a burner phone network to upload to an open cloud server. Amateur hour. I'm already i

The heavy oak door clicked shut.The sound sealed Damian in the tomb-like quiet with the dying king. The polite fiction of the memorial vanished.No more mournful strings. No more hushed whispers.They were alone.The study felt smaller now. Heavier. Shadows pressed in from every corner, thick with decades of secrets. The portraits of dead Volkovs watched from gilded frames, their painted eyes holding judgment.Alexei pushed himself up from his leather chair. The movement was slow, painful, but his spine stayed rigid. A half-century of command didn't die easily.Cancer had stolen his bulk, hollowed his cheeks, turned his once-powerful hands into claws. But authority still radiated from him like heat from a dying fire.He moved to the dark mahogany cabinet without looking at Damian. His gnarled hand retrieved a crystal decanter from behind a false panel.Clear vodka caught the lamplight.Ivan Sokolov's last gift, eight years ago. Before the drugs. Before the lies. Before everything wen

The atmosphere in the car shifted.His role as savior was complete. Now, something else took its place.Marcus pulled the car to a stop in a deserted parking lot. Empty warehouses surrounded them. The engine ticked as it cooled, the only sound in the suffocating quiet.He turned in his seat to face her fully. His movements were different now. Less controlled. His breathing slightly labored."You are a remarkably beautiful woman, Doctor," he murmured.His voice lost its frantic edge and took on a low, appreciative purr. Something predatory flickered in his pale blue eyes.He swept his gaze over her like a physical touch. His fingers, soft and manicured, left the steering wheel and traced the line of her collarbone above the high neck of her dress.Ava flinched, pulling back against the leather seat. Her mind, fighting through the pharmaceutical haze, screamed warnings."A bit jumpy, aren't we?" he chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "After what you've been through, I suppose that's

Dmitri's hand was a manacle on Ava's upper arm.His grip wasn't just firm. It was a bruising statement of his authority. A clear message of his contempt for the woman who had captivated his Pakhan's rival.He didn't lead her back through the opulent hall of whispering guests. He pulled her through a discreet, unmarked door beside the grand fireplace.Into a world she wasn't meant to see.The shift in atmosphere was a physical shock.The warm, lily-scented air of the reception vanished. Stolen by the sterile chill of a service corridor.The mournful notes of the string quartet were abruptly silenced. Replaced by the low, industrial hum of powerful ventilation systems.The corridor was a stark, unforgiving tube of white-painted concrete. Stretched out beneath the harsh glare of fluorescent lights.It was the building's ugly, functional skeleton.Far behind them, a figure detached itself from a shadowed doorway.Mikhail.He moved with impossible silence, keeping a careful, measured dista

The morning had been a silent, bruising war.Damian had woken with a dark, restless energy. His touch was possessive, almost punishing. He'd taken her again and again, his silence a stark contrast to the brutal ownership of his actions.He was reaffirming the claim he'd made in the Crucible. Branding her soul with his body until she was pliant with exhaustion.Now, Ava stood before the penthouse mirror. A stylist, a severe woman with a clipped French accent, held up a gown. It was exquisite black silk, cut daringly low in the back.The dress was designed to showcase every dark, possessive mark his fingers and teeth had left on her skin."The Pakhan's choice," the stylist said, her voice devoid of emotion.Ava stared at her reflection. At the exhaustion in her green eyes. At the diamond collar at her throat.A sudden spike of defiance cut through the fog of her grief. The last flickering ember of the woman she used to be."No," Ava heard herself say, her voice a raw whisper.Before the

Sunrise bled across the training grounds, painting the splintered wood of practice dummies in hues of orange and blood. I sought him there.Damon stood facing the dawn, but his stillness wasn't peaceful; it was the loaded quiet before a storm breaks. He turned as my footsteps crunched on the gravel, his dark eyes immediately finding mine, sharp and challenging."You sought me out."His voice was low, rough from the previous day's declarations and defiance. There was no trace of the pleading vulnerability from before, replaced by a hard edge."We needed to speak."I replied, stopping several feet away, deliberately maintaining distance. My own Alpha presence settled around me, calm but firm."Your… performance… in the Great Hall yesterday requires clarification."A humorless smirk touched his lips."My performance? I stated a truth. I claimed what is mine by right of the Goddess.""Did you? Or did you try to chain me with a public declaration, hoping to force my hand?"I countered, ste

"...and we will rebuild, stronger than before!" Alpha Marcus's voice strained, echoing slightly in the tense silence of the Great Hall. He gripped the edge of the dais, knuckles white. Beside him, Beta Elara shot me a sharp, warning glance from the corner of her eye. Stay still. Don't draw attention.Too late for that. Every wolf in the hall knew the score, more or less. The whispers hadn't stopped since the battle. Now, their gazes flickered between me, standing stiffly near the edge of the platform, and the powerful Alpha leaning against a far pillar.Damon. His dark eyes weren't on Marcus; they were locked on me, intense and calculating. He'd shifted tactics since our last clash. The raw frustration was banked, replaced by a chilling strategic focus. It felt like being stalked.Marcus, desperate to regain control, puffed out his chest. "We prevail thanks to the courage within this pack! Thanks to Silver Crescent's own," his gaze flickered possessively towards me, "Seraphina, whose

I ran a critical hand over the newly repaired stonework near the main gate, testing the mortar. Two younger warriors stood nearby, awaiting instructions. Further down, Torvin was part of a crew resetting heavy timber supports. He kept shooting nervous glances my way."Torvin," I called out, my voice carrying easily over the sounds of work.He jumped, fumbling the rope he held. "Y-yes, Alpha-Seraphina?""Those lashings," I pointed towards the top support beam. "They look loose from here. Check them again. Properly this time."He scrambled up the rough scaffolding, his movements jerky with fear, nearly dropping his mallet. He fumbled with the ropes, his hands shaking visibly.A low chuckle sounded behind me. Damon. He leaned against the gate archway, arms crossed, watching Torvin's clumsy efforts with unconcealed amusement mixed with something colder."Fear can be motivating," Damon observed quietly, his gaze flicking from Torvin back to me. "But it rarely leads to quality work."I igno

The air in the makeshift council room remained thick with tension, but the focus had shifted. Spread across the table wasn't just a map, but specific architectural drawings of the damaged outer wall section – the very breach point near where I’d fought, where I’d shifted. Alpha Marcus traced a line with a worried finger."Reinforcing it quickly is paramount. But our timber stores are low after the attack, and the quarry work is slow."Damon leaned forward, instantly taking charge, his Alpha presence filling the room. "My warriors can secure the breach temporarily. Stone River technique uses interlocking shields and reinforced bracing. Faster, more secure than a hasty timber patch." He glanced briefly at Marcus, then his gaze settled on me, assessing. "We can have it fortified by nightfall."His offer sounded logical, efficient. But it was also an assertion of dominance, a solution that bypassed Silver Crescent resources and expertise, implying they weren't capable. It placed his wolve

Dust motes danced in the shafts of afternoon light slanting through a cracked window arch. The corridor still smelled faintly of blood and fear, overlaid now with damp stone and cleaning herbs.I stood near the shattered entrance to the kitchens, directing two younger pack members clearing debris. My flank throbbed beneath its bandage, a dull counterpoint to the sharp clarity flooding my senses."Careful with that beam," I ordered, my voice sharper, carrying more easily than it ever had before. "Check if it's stable before moving anything else."The two wolves jumped, nodding quickly. "Yes, Alpha-Seraphina." The title still felt strange on their tongues, awkward but respectful.A heavy presence approached from behind, the familiar scent of pine and storm cutting through the dust. Damon. He stopped just beside me, his gaze sweeping over the damage before landing on the bandage visible beneath the tear in my borrowed tunic."You should be resting," he stated, his voice rough. He looked

The immediate flurry of snarls and desperate yelps died down. Silence descended, thick and heavy, broken only by the ragged panting of wolves and the distant sounds of continued fighting elsewhere in the compound. The corridor air hung thick with the coppery tang of blood and the lingering stench of rogue fear.Pack members, shifting back to two legs or still on four paws, stared. Not at the injured, not at the dead rogues littering the stone floor.They stared at me.My silver fur, matted in places with dark blood, seemed to absorb the dim light. Power still thrummed beneath my skin, a wild, intoxicating current I was only just beginning to comprehend. My wolf body felt… right. More real than the human form I’d inhabited for years.Whispers broke the silence."By the Moon..." Torvin breathed, his earlier arrogance completely gone, replaced by wide-eyed disbelief and maybe fear. He stood half-shifted, frozen mid-transformation.Beta Elara, her face pale but composed, took an involunta