Novels by WJRalde

The first light of day filters through the window, not as a harsh ray that wounds the dimness, but as a golden veil that caresses the shadows, and I wake slowly, feeling—before opening my eyes—the warm weight of their bodies next to mine. Demon is behind me, his solid chest pressed to my back, his breath deep and steady against my neck, and John is in front of me, so close I can count the eyelashes resting on his skin, so close that every exhale brushes my lips like a silent whisper.There’s no rush. Nothing to wait for and no one to please beyond this small world of the three of us, enclosed in the warm intimacy of rumpled sheets and the shared scent lingering in the air, a blend of night and skin. I move just slightly, with the slowness of someone afraid to break a spell, and Demon responds instinctively, tightening his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him, as if even asleep he knows he doesn’t want to let me go.John opens his eyes slowly, and his gaze meets mine—the same

The day doesn’t begin softly, as if from the very first moment there’s an underground current running beneath every gesture, a pulse beating hard that none of us seems to want to hide. There’s no golden silence like yesterday’s dawn; today the energy is different—sharper, more alive—and when Demon passes behind me in the kitchen and lets his hand run over my hip with blatant intention, not even pretending he’s just moving past me to grab something, I know: this is going to be a day that burns to the very last spark.John arrives barefoot, hair still damp from the shower, wearing that look that mixes curiosity with a touch of challenge, and he pauses only a second before leaning his shoulder against the doorway, watching us like he’s measuring the exact distance it’s safest to keep… though we all know he’s not going to keep any. Demon lets me go, but doesn’t step far; his gaze locks with John’s, and the tension is so visible I could trace it in the air with my finger.“Are you going to

Dawn arrives without a sound, slipping gently through the half-drawn curtain, letting a thread of golden light spill across the bed as if it wanted to caress us too. I’ve been awake for a few minutes, though I haven’t moved; I don’t want to break this moment that feels suspended in a place where time doesn’t exist. We’re naked, tangled together in a way that makes it impossible to tell where one body ends and the next begins, and the shared warmth is so dense it wraps around me like a second skin.I feel Demon’s slow breathing against my back, his chest pressed to me, his arm heavy around my waist, his hand resting just below my navel, fingers slightly curled as if he doesn’t want to lose contact even in his sleep. In front of me is John, his eyes still closed, but his hand on my thigh tells me he’s not entirely asleep, that he’s in that half-awake space where touch matters more than words.I say nothing, because there’s no need. I listen to them breathe—two different rhythms that, af

The afternoon has that deceptive glow that gives no warning of what’s coming, the sun sinking slowly and the streets breathing a mild warmth that invites you to walk without haste. Demon, John, and I are walking together, with no clear destination, and although anyone watching us would think we’re just three friends strolling, the truth is that beneath that calm surface there’s a subtext that never stops pulsing, an invisible thread that binds us and keeps us taut.Demon walks to my left, his hand close enough to mine that, every now and then, our fingers brush in the faintest contact, sending a tingling up my whole arm. John, on my right, isn’t satisfied with chance: the back of his hand grazes my hip each time we take a step closer together, as if he’s measuring how many centimeters he can close the distance before it becomes too obvious.“You shouldn’t smile like that in public,” Demon murmurs without looking at me, but his deep voice reaches me like a touch on the skin. “People wi

Morning arrives heavy, wrapped in that dense air left behind by a storm, as if the whole world were still damp on the inside—and so am I. The living room smells of freshly brewed coffee, but also of something else, that mix of skin and heat that has seeped into the cushions and into my clothes from last night. I walk barefoot, dragging my fingers along the edge of the table while Demon and John are already there, one at each end, as if they’d positioned themselves strategically to force me to choose where to start.“You’re coming with me first,” Demon says, and though he says it with a studied calm, the way his eyes travel from my ankles to my neck leaves no doubt it’s not a suggestion.John leans back in his chair, resting an arm over the backrest with a tilted smile that seems to say he’s ready to challenge every inch of that claim.“That’s only because you think you can always be first,” he replies, his voice carrying that soft edge of mockery that always sparks the fire. “But you

The whole night seems determined to trap us inside itself, as if the rain striking the windows weren’t just water, but a liquid wall cutting us off from the rest of the world. The wind whistles through the cracks, and now and then the wooden frame of the house groans, as though shifting its weight to endure. I stand before the large living room window, my fingers tracing lazy lines across the fogged glass, following the uneven paths of the droplets, while behind me I hear the slow, weighted steps of Demon and John. They don’t speak, but they advance as though obeying the same invisible pull.It isn’t tension—at least not exactly—it’s something denser, more enveloping, as if the silence itself had weight and temperature. The rain keeps us captive, and that captivity is warm, intimate, dangerous.“You never get tired of staring,” murmurs Demon, his voice closer than I expected. I don’t need to turn to know he’s behind me, close enough for his breath to graze my neck.“It’s hypnotic,” I

The night is wild.The flames from the nearby fires crackle like breath, alive and restless. The forest whispers something ancient—something hungry, something cloaked in shadow. The sky is clear. The stars flicker shamelessly. And somewhere far off, a howl cuts through the air like a scream from something dying… or being born again.I’m alone—or so I think.Until I feel him.I don’t hear him. I don’t see him.But I know he’s here.My body senses him before my mind does.And then he appears.Out of the shadows—like a beautiful curse.Naked.Shadow’s skin gleams in the firelight, and he looks more beast than man. His breath is deep. His golden eyes blaze. There’s a restrained violence in his expression, as if he’s on the verge of breaking. Or breaking me."You came," I whisper."I always come when you need me," he says, his voice ragged… but fierce.There are no more words.He lunges at me.And I let him.He pushes me down onto the warm dirt, heated by the fire. Earth smears my back, my

I’m still panting when he finally pulls back.His eyes are burning.Not like before. Not just with lust.Now there’s something wilder. More primal.Something unnamed… but it tastes like a delicious threat.“Don’t fall asleep,” he whispers, trailing his fingers along my belly. “I’m not done with you.”“Oh, really?” I mock, breathless. “What more do you want? My soul?”He smiles.That crooked, dangerous smile that tells me: yes.He already has it.And now he’s coming for the rest.“I want to see you surrender. Completely. No sarcasm. No escape. I want to make you beg, Amelia.”The way he says my name scorches me.Like an invocation.Like he’s peeling me from the inside out.Before I can answer, I’m already bound.With one of his shirts, twisted into a rope.He ties my wrists to the back of our makeshift bed and sits before me. Naked. Merciless erection. Eyes ablaze.“What are you doing?” I arch a brow, though inside I’m trembling. Not from fear. From anticipation.“Shut up. Tonight, you

His fingers haven’t stopped exploring me. Not even now, as the sweat dries on our skin and the air between us remains heavy with want. He kisses me with a hunger that never fades, as if every inch of me incites him further. As if every breath is a silent command to break me open again. "Are you okay?" he murmurs against my lips, his breath trembling into my mouth. "No," I answer. "Not unless you do it again." And that undoes him. He lifts me with one arm, as if I’m nothing more than a flame-bodied doll, and pins me against the wall of the shelter. He grips beneath my thighs, my legs wrap around his waist. His shaft, still hard, presses between my legs, making me moan before he’s even inside me again. "Look what you do to me," he growls, voice rougher now, darker, like the desire is clawing him apart. And then he gives me everything. All of him. At once. So deep it steals the air from my lungs. The slam of his body against mine makes the wooden walls tremble. He gr

There is no dawn to interrupt us.The world keeps spinning in shadows, and within that infinite silence, his body still rests on mine—warm, strong, so real it makes me shiver.“I can’t stop touching you,” he whispers against my collarbone, his lips tracing fire where only cold once lived.I don’t want him to stop either.Not now that he’s here, that I can feel him melting into me like we’re a single being with two open wounds trying desperately to close.His tongue moves over my skin as if trying to memorize it, as if one night—or a thousand—would never be enough to truly understand me. My legs wrap around his hips, and his hands clutch my waist tightly, pulling me back into the abyss we thought we’d already crossed.We moan in unison—my back arching, his chest trembling against mine.There’s no gentleness this time.Only hunger. Raw need.The urge to mark, to claim, to take what the world tried to deny us.“You’re mine,” he growls into my neck, and I don’t answer. I surrender. I let

The night wraps around us like a warm blanket woven from the remnants of the storm.No more sirens. No more screams.Only the distant creaking of wind through the ruins… and the restless beat of his heart, pulsing against my chest.His hand still clings to mine, as if letting go might unravel the world all over again.“You’re still trembling,” I whisper, my lips barely brushing his.“It’s not the cold,” he replies—and his voice has that rough, gravelly edge it only takes on when he’s right at the brink of himself.We look at each other as if we haven’t seen one another in years, as if we’re meeting again in some other time, some other life. My fingers trace the dust and dried blood on his face, and still… he’s beautiful. Brutally beautiful. There’s something in that golden gaze, in that wild intensity, that always makes me forget who I am.Or who I’m supposed to be.He presses me gently against the concrete wall, his breath filling the space between us.His body surrounds me. There’s

The cold wind lashes my face, as if trying to tear the soul from my body. In the distance, the city lights flicker—a fading echo of what once was. But here, in this desolate place, at the edge of what’s gone and what is yet to come, there’s nothing left but the reverberation of our choices.My eyes sweep the horizon, searching for something—anything—that might tell me it was worth it. But there are no answers. Only the ruins of a war that consumed us whole, leaving behind wounds far deeper than flesh can bear. And yet, in the heart of all this chaos, a fragile spark still burns within me.Because I did it. We did it.Shadow stands beside me in silence. No words pass between us. We don’t need them. The weight of all we've lived is etched into our souls, carved into every glance, every breath. It doesn’t matter that the world has collapsed into dust—because somehow, we made it through.Despite the war. Despite the loss. Something remains. Something I never thought I’d find in the wrecka