Novels by WJRalde

John leaned back in his chair, savoring my small moment of surrender. That smile—the one that usually drove me mad—this time only made me smile back, despite myself. It was impossible not to get caught up in his charm when he wasn’t even trying to impress.“Me? Get my hopes up?” he said with a soft laugh. “What kind of man do you think I am?”“The kind that’s used to winning,” I replied, my gaze steady on his.“Not always. But I try.” His voice carried that natural confidence, like failure didn’t exist in his world—not really.The dinner unfolded with a surprising ease. We talked about trivial things: books, music, even movies. The conversation flowed lightly, without the usual tension that hovered over us. Now and then, he’d drop a clever comment, one that made my stomach flip just a little. But I held my own, firing back with sarcasm, and to my surprise, John seemed to enjoy every second of it.After dessert, when we were both more relaxed, he rested his elbows on the table and fixe

When I got home, the idea of dinner with Javier settled into my mind like a ticking time bomb. I couldn’t focus on anything. I’d open my laptop, write a single sentence, then delete five. I tried reading, but every word reminded me of his voice, his smile, the feel of his hand brushing mine.By seven-thirty, I was standing in front of my closet, staring at my clothes like I was about to make the most important decision of my life. What the hell do you wear to dinner with Javier Aranda? Nothing in there said I’m not interested, but I also don’t want you to think I’m a mess.I tried on three different outfits, cursing under my breath. Why did it even matter what I wore? He’d show up in one of his custom-made suits, smelling of success and power, while I debated whether I looked too casual or like I was trying too hard.In the end, I chose something simple: a fitted black dress that wasn’t too revealing, and ankle boots. I left my hair down—because I knew he preferred it that way, though

I spent the night tossing and turning, wrestling with my thoughts. I couldn’t get him out of my head. The way John looked at me, as if he knew something I didn’t. As if it was only a matter of time before I surrendered at his feet. And damn it, part of me wanted to fall.But no. I wasn’t going to let the attractive, charming, billionaire John Blackwell slip into my life and turn it into chaos. That’s what he did—he created chaos around him. And I already had enough with the disaster that was my writing career.The next day, I tried to focus on my work, but I couldn’t string two coherent sentences together.Every time I tried to picture a character, that character became John. His damn eyes, that mocking smile, his hands brushing my skin... Enough!“You’re losing your mind, Catherine,” I muttered to myself, slamming the laptop shut in frustration. “This has to stop.”I decided to head to my usual café, my sanctuary. Maybe a change of scenery would help me write.But of course, because

“Not think about me?” he said, letting out a low laugh. “Sounds like that’s going to take a lot of effort.”I gave him a fake smile and turned toward the door, ready to go inside and put an end to this conversation. But just as I was about to slip the key into the lock, his hand brushed along my arm, stopping me. It wasn’t forceful, it wasn’t possessive. Just a soft touch, one that sent a shiver from my fingertips all the way up the back of my neck.The man knew exactly what he was doing. And the worst part was, my body responded before my brain could stop it. As if his touch switched off all my defenses, one by one.“Catherine,” he whispered, and it felt almost like a caress. “Why are you so afraid?”I froze.I hate when men try to be deep. This isn’t a movie, I thought. This isn’t a romance novel. This is real life, and in real life, guys like him don’t end up with girls like me.But his words disarmed me in a way I hadn’t expected...There was something in his voice, that low tone

I looked at him, trying to regain control of the situation, but it was useless. John watched me with that same mix of arrogance and amusement he always wore, like he’d just won the lottery.The egotistical bastard knew exactly what he was doing.“You haven’t said a word. Was it that bad?” he asked, tilting his head with a smile that screamed, I know you loved it.“What makes you think I’m not just processing your complete lack of respect for my personal space?” I shot back, crossing my arms. There. Back to my tough stance. All under control.“Oh, come on. You kissed me back.” John leaned in, studying me like I was some riddle he was dying to solve. “And, I’ll tell you, I loved every second of it.”There he was again, with that confident tone, that damned charm. I rolled my eyes, doing my best to stay calm.“You didn’t ask any questions before throwing yourself at me, John. If you had, my answer would’ve been a clear no.”He laughed.It was a warm, genuine laugh, like he found my effor

The first day I saw him, I thought he must have been some kind of casting mistake. Too perfect to be standing in that café where I used to waste time trying to write a chapter of my novel. And there he was, standing like the world revolved around his flawless figure. John Blackwell. The John Blackwell. Billionaire, arrogant, and owner of a smile that could easily be registered as a lethal weapon.He had the kind of presence that hurt to look at. Tall, elegant, wearing a suit that probably cost more than my bank debt. The watch on his wrist didn’t tell the time—it told of power. His dark hair slicked back without a single strand out of place, his grey eyes glinting like metal. Like a secret on the verge of exploding.And still, what pissed me off the most was how easily he sat at my table. Without asking. Without permission. As if the air, the space, and even my coffee belonged to him.“Do you always sit alone, or is it just because of me?” he said, smiling like he knew exactly which b

The peace that surrounds us is fleeting. The darkness recedes, but it never truly vanishes. The glow of victory is brief, and in its place comes a strange, unsettling feeling. I can’t quite name it, but it’s as if we’ve touched something dangerous—something still pulsing in the shadows, waiting for its chance.Shadow remains by my side, his gaze deeper now, filled with an intensity I’ve never seen before. A heavy silence coils around us.He’s changed.Something in him has shifted.And something in me has too.I glance at him as we walk, the weight of his presence pressing against me. He’s here, close, but there’s a barrier now—an invisible wall, a distance that didn’t exist before. It’s like we’re balancing on a tightrope, holding our breath, not knowing what comes next.My heart races uncontrollably, not from fear, but from love. Because despite everything we’ve been through, all we’ve endured, the need to be near him has never burned stronger.“What do we do now?” I ask, breaking th

The battle is a whirlwind of shadows and light, a clash of forces as old as time itself. Shadow moves with supernatural grace, his eyes glowing with an intensity I’ve never seen before. Every strike he delivers is precise, fueled by contained rage, by pain and longing. But that same rage is what's driving us to the brink, the very thing threatening to consume us all.The figure before us—this malignant presence that feels like the shadow of something far older and far more dangerous—fights back with a violence that steals the breath from my lungs. It’s not human. And I realize now, it’s not even what I thought it was. It’s something else. Something far greater and darker. Yet even with all its power, I sense it doesn’t have control over what’s happening. The fury burning within Shadow is making him unpredictable, and if we can’t stop him, we’ll lose more than this battle—we’ll lose everything we’ve built.I keep watching, heart in my throat, body taut with tension, waiting for somethi

The silence becomes unbearable, broken only by the whisper of the storm still howling outside, as if the whole world were holding its breath, waiting for something to shatter the growing tension. The figure before us steps forward, and yet—in its eyes—I glimpse a fleeting doubt, a flicker of hesitation that offers a sliver of hope, though I know better than to trust it.The figure halts, studying us with a smile that twists even further, crueler now. That smirk, so full of superiority, makes my blood boil. Whatever it’s here to destroy, whatever it thinks it can unravel in us—it’s too confident. But I won’t let it win. Shadow has been my shelter, my light in a darkness that has always haunted me, and I won’t let it all fall apart now.My breath quickens. My body coils with tension, heart hammering—but there’s something more. Something I don’t recognize at first… until I do. Shadow is changing. Something inside him is about to break free, and though my mind screams to be afraid, someth

The shadow outside the door moves with a swiftness that knocks the breath out of me. My senses sharpen—instinct screams that the battle is here, that there’s no turning back now. Fear mixes with adrenaline, and though my body stands ready, something inside me trembles—as if it already knows that what’s coming is greater than anything we’ve ever faced.Shadow grabs my hand, his grip almost painful—but it’s exactly the strength I need to stay grounded. His fingers interlace with mine, as if they're the only anchor we have left. His breathing is uneven, and I see the tension in his jaw, the reflection of the war he’s fighting inside himself.“I don’t want you to get hurt, Emily,” he says. But it’s not a warning—it’s a plea. A plea I never thought I’d hear from him. Shadow’s voice is raw, like the weight of our love—this forbidden, relentless love—is beginning to crack something deep within. And for a second, I wonder if he’ll be able to keep fighting. If this battle, this war, will be th

The air grows even heavier, as if the house itself is holding its breath. I can feel it—the weight of what’s about to come. The bond between Shadow and me, that tether pulling us tightly together, feels like the only thing keeping us upright. But I know it won’t be enough if we don’t face what’s stalking us. And that terrifies me more than I’d ever admit.We part slowly, the kiss still burning on our lips like a spark caught in the dark. Shadow watches me—his eyes, like shattered mirrors, reflect a torment he never shows, a vulnerability that consumes me every time I see him up close.“They're looking for us,” he says. His voice is low, calm—but it’s a calm that feels more like a mask than a certainty. That word—looking—cuts deep. Because I know he’s not just talking about those chasing us down physically, but about those who want to destroy what we have. What we are.The violent sound of doors slamming open and shut makes me jump. The ticking of the wall clock grows sharper, louder—s

The day fades slowly, like a nightmare that still haunts you even after you’ve woken. The house where we’ve taken refuge feels like an island adrift in a raging sea. Every room, every corner is steeped in that lingering sense of desperation—that time is running out, and fate is approaching with slow, silent, heavy steps. And yet, despite everything, Shadow and I remain here, fighting, as if this place were our final breath before the fall.The atmosphere is dense, charged with tension. The air itself feels thick, as though each breath carries the weight of all the unspoken questions we refuse to ask. I know he’s battling something inside himself, tormented by a past that twists and writhes in his mind. But I refuse to let him go. I can’t. I won’t.I sit across from him, our hands nearly touching, the space between us an invisible chasm—felt even if unseen. He seems farther away than ever, his eyes fixed on something I cannot see, as though facing a battle that doesn’t belong to this w