Novels by Vina Kalviné

Yasmine’s POV The first thing I noticed when I woke up was how cold the room felt. Not the kind of cold that comes from an open window or morning air, but the kind that creeps into your skin, quiet and heavy. Azrael wasn’t beside me. The sheets were still warm where he’d been, but the warmth was fading fast. He’d said he thought he saw something by the door last night. Smiled like it was nothing. But the way his voice had sounded, low, distant amd I knew it wasn’t nothing. Something was wrong. I sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around my shoulders. The curtains moved, even though the windows were closed, and for a second, I thought I heard someone whisper. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks again, but lately, things around him didn’t feel… normal. Sometimes the shadows looked thicker when he walked by. Mirrors turned darker when he stared too long. He’d catch me watching and smile like it was all in my head, and maybe I wanted to believe it was. I stood, my bare feet b

Azrael's POV I woke up with Yasmine in my arms the next morning with a grin on her face. And I was about to step down from the bed, when it all hit me, the wave of what I hated the most. My time was running out, a fuckin countdown, 9 months, when my eyes caught a figure by the door. Mordecai... I slowly shifted away from Yasmine outside the room, anger ebbing at every part of my body. "I never thought the Almighty Azrael would sleep in a room with other Color than black," It taunted. "And the girl, you really think she's your Chance at salvation?" I clenched my jaw, my hand twitching before I could stop it. “You’re not supposed to be here,” I said, my voice low. “Elyon made sure of that.” Mordecai stepped out of the shadow, his grin stretching too wide for a human face. His eyes gleamed the color of burnt copper, slick and hungry. “You think rules ever applied to me? You forget, brother, I was born from your rage. Wherever you are, I am.” I hated the way he said brother,

AZREAL'S POV Yasmine's smile was a blade, small but sharp, and for the first time in centuries I realized I preferred it to softness. She wasn’t trying to heal, wasn’t begging for mercy — she wanted blood the way a starved wolf wanted meat. And gods, I understood it. I pushed away from the doorway, the boards sighing under my weight. “Shadows are louder than screams,” I said. “He’ll start looking for them everywhere.” Yasmine propped herself up on her elbows, hair falling loose over her shoulders. “You make it sound like an art.” “It is.” I crossed the room, letting the pale light fall across my face. Her eyes tracked me with that familiar tension — part revulsion, part curiosity. I’d stopped trying to name which part was winning. “Fear works best when it doesn’t know when it started or where it ends. A single crack in his certainty… and the rest of him will crumble.” She didn’t argue. That, more than words, told me she was learning. Francis would not die quickly. No — quick wa

AZREAL'S POV We didn’t wait long, by nightfall the list on the table was already worn soft from our hands. Names, numbers, small notes in Yasmine’s hurried script. She tucked it into her journal like a sacred text and looked at me with that same fire I was beginning to recognize — the one that meant she wouldn’t sleep until something moved. “Let’s start with Francis,” she said, tying her hair back. “He’s the easier one. He’s too proud to imagine anyone could reach him.” I leaned against the doorway, arms folded. “You want him paranoid before he loses everything. The paranoia will make him sloppy.” She gave me a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Good. Sloppy means vulnerable.” We started simple — a message. Not from her number, not in her tone, but close enough. Words cut down to bone: I see you. Delivered at a time she knew he would be alone in his office. Yasmine’s fingers hesitated over the screen only once before she hit send. We didn’t wait for the reply. It wasn’t a

AZREAL'S POV She tugged the pendant at her throat, a small habit she’d picked up. “What do you mean by small?” “False sightings,” I said. “A shadow in the corner of his office. A voice on his voicemail that sounds like Yasmine, saying things that only she would know.” I watched her as I listed the ideas. “Documents. Little notes delivered where he can’t help but see them. A file that reappears on his desk after he deletes it. Friends who swear they heard him talking to himself on calls. The absence of sleep eats at the mind like rust.” She smiled then, cold and sharp. “Make him think I’m alive. Make him see me in places I never would be. Make him imagine the things he did.” “Exactly.” I tapped the wooden table once. “And make him watch. We’ll leak his mistakes at first—emails, payment trails, forged evidence implying he’s been embezzling from his own company. Not enough to kill him financially; just enough to get the board sniffing. Then a call from an anonymous source. Then a c

Azrael’s POV I stared at the room. It didn’t feel, didn't look like mine anymore. The heavy curtains were gone, the ones that shut the world out and kept everything in shadow. In their place, pale ash-colored fabric moved faintly with the breeze, letting in more light than I thought I could tolerate. The bedspread Yasmine had insisted on was softer too, patterned in shades of blue and white that clashed with every inch of black paint on the walls. It should have been unbearable. It wasn’t. The plant in the corner, stubborn and green, looked almost ridiculous against centuries of darkness—but I couldn’t stop staring at it. Blue, white, ash. The words tugged at me, and memory stirred. “What’s your favorite color?” A voice, soft and curious, leaning close across time. “I don’t have favorites,” I’d answered, centuries ago. “But if I did, it would be… blue. White. Ash.” Her laugh had been bright enough to echo in my bones. I blinked and the memory fell away, leaving the prese

Gabriel POV I paced behind the glass wall of my office, dark suit unbuttoned, tie loosened. The afternoon sunlight slanted through the trees, dust dancing across the quiet war room. I’d just come from another meeting with northern ambassadors, silver-tongued wolves who believed power was polite but not sentimental. The minute I mentioned my “wife”—Samantha—half the room tensed. I'd seen their eyes flick to her name on the seating chart, and then back to my face, calculating. I hates that I care. I’d left her out of the meeting—in practice, but not in heart. I couldn’t stand her presence in that cold room, but every moment’s absence felt like something had vanished in myself. Not just a projection, but a piece of skin gone. I couldn’t explain it. Caspian had been blunt: She fainted during the meeting earlier on. She is falling apart. She’s quiet, she’s pale, and Lord knows she hasn’t eaten since the Broderick brunch. I didn’t want to believe it. It was weakness. Yet— Late this

Samantha's POV The scent of brewed coffee and worn leather greeted me each morning at Blood Moon Pack’s manor, now my new reality. It felt too polished, too sharp—like a home where power lived and vulnerability was hunted down. I slipped into my new schedule like a thread through a tight needle. Gabriel's world ran with precision—early meetings, financial reports, strategy sessions. He’d insisted I shadow him. “For protection,” he’d said, though his gaze lingered too long on my face each time I asked why I really needed to be there. Most days began with him handing me a tailored blazer—mine, yet always something he’d picked himself. "This one makes you look like someone who doesn’t flinch," he murmured once, adjusting the lapel with fingers that brushed against my collarbone too softly to be accidental. We had a meeting later with emissaries from the Northern financiers and he’d already laid out my outfit for the evening. Gabriel had developed a habit of dressing me like a knigh

SAMANTHA’S POV I stood before the full-length mirror, the delicate silk of my blouse whispering against my skin as I adjusted the pearl buttons Gabriel had insisted I wear. My fingers trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the pressure—pressure to fit the image, pressure to stand beside an Alpha like Gabriel Vermont and not look like the shattered girl I still saw in my reflection. He was behind me now. I could feel his presence even before he spoke. “The navy blue compliments your skin,” he said, his voice low, almost intimate. I met his eyes in the mirror—those storm-gray eyes that gave nothing away but seemed to strip everything from me in return. He stepped closer. His hand, warm and confident, reached around to straighten the collar of my blazer. He brushed a thumb down the lapel and lingered a second longer than necessary. “You’ll do perfectly today.” Every time we stepped out for a deal or meeting, Gabriel prepared me himself—never with harsh orders or impatience, b

Gabriel stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of his home office, looking towards the Blood Moon warriors train in the courtyard below. The clang of steel and the crack of fists echoed faintly through the thick glass, but none of it reached him. His gaze wasn’t on the sparring soldiers. It was on the girl walking the perimeter of the packhouse garden—delicate, small in her navy blouse and black slacks, hair tied back, a folder tucked beneath her arm. Samantha. He clenched his jaw. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. “She needs more protection,” he muttered. Behind him, Caspian leaned against the polished wall, arms folded. “You’ve doubled her guards. Moved her to the suite next to yours. Made her your assistant so you could monitor her every move.” Gabriel’s voice was low. “It’s not enough.” Caspian pushed off the wall, stepping closer. “You’re not afraid someone else will hurt her.” He paused. “You’re afraid it’ll be you.” Gabriel didn’t answer. Because it was true. Sin

THIRD PERSON'S POV The lodge doors opened at dawn, and Gabriel’s footsteps echoed against the stone hallway like a war drum. He moved with clipped precision, trailed by two warriors and a tall male beta with a tablet in hand. He wasn’t the same man who had touched Samantha’s cheek gently just two nights ago. This Gabriel was colder. Sharper. Alpha of Blood Moon. CEO of Vermillion Corp. Protector of his people. And now, somehow, responsible for a girl who didn’t know where she belonged. He passed the library, where Samantha sat quietly on a cushioned window seat, the morning light tracing her profile. She didn’t see him. She was lost in the pages of a book—Pack History: Bloodlines and Betrayals. Gabriel stopped for only a second. “Caspian,” he said to his beta, voice unreadable. “I want her in the office.” Caspian blinked. “Sir?” “She stays too isolated. It’s not safe. And she needs... structure.” The warrior beside him arched a brow. “As your assistant?” Gabriel didn’t b

SAMANTHA’S POV The wind howled past the windows as the car tore through the forest road, thick pine trees whipping by like silent sentinels watching me leave everything behind. I didn’t look back. Not at the Crescent Moon Pack. Not at the life that had chewed me up and spat me out. Not even at Elias, whose cold expression had followed me to the car but whose eyes had—just for a second—held something like regret. It didn’t matter anymore. Because I’d left. With him.Gabriel Vermont . He hadn’t spoken since we started driving. His hands rested calmly on the wheel, but the air around him crackled with quiet power. Every breath he took, every glance he made through the windshield, screamed Alpha. Not just by title. In the bone-deep way he commanded a room… or a person. I sat curled in the passenger seat, wrapped in the oversized jacket he’d tossed over my shoulders before we left the Hall. It smelled of pine and musk and something faintly metallic—like storm clouds before they bro