Novels by Riyahsecret

Kianna's PoV:I stared at the calendar on my phone, the date glaring back at me like an accusation: It was 18th. Four days more to go. Just four days until the 22nd—until I turned nineteen and the fated-mate bond with Maddox locked into place like a cage door slamming shut. It had crept up so fast like a blink in the chaos of the past weeks. The circus lights, the amusement park rides, the chase that still haunted my dreams—it all blurred together, making time feel like it was slipping through my fingers.The dorm was quiet this afternoon, Lesley was out at her part-time job at the campus bookstore, leaving me alone with the hum of the heater and the faint patter of snow against the window. Winter had fully arrived, blanketing the world in white, but inside my chest, everything felt like a storm. I’d barely slept last night, tossing under the covers as images of the masked stalker from the park replayed: his relentless pursuit, the way he’d vanished into the crowd when we reached s

Maddox's PoV:I leaned against the cool metal of the lockers long after the hallway had emptied, arms folded tight across my chest, replaying the moment on a loop that felt almost too sweet to be real.Kianna walked into the cafeteria with Mordred.Not just walking, but her hand was lightly on his arm, guiding him like he was something fragile she was worried might break. Her voice was soft, concerned, asking if he’d eaten anything yet. Him looking like absolute hell—pale as paper, dark circles carved deep under his eyes, shoulders hunched like he’d carried the weight of the world all night and still letting her fuss over him.The Irony, he's always acting like a motherfucken baby In front of her, it's sick to watch.And me?I’d given them nothing more than a quick, casual smile. The kind you flash at someone you vaguely recognize from a class two years ago. Polite, distant and completely unbothered.I’d felt Mordred’s stare drill into my back the entire time I walked past their table

Kianna's PoV:I flopped back onto my bed in the dorm, the mattress creaking under me like it shared my exhaustion. The room was dimly lit by the string lights Lesley had strung up for "cozy vibes," casting a soft glow over the posters on the wall—band flyers, motivational quotes and a collage of photos from better days. My helmet hair was a mess, and my cheeks still stung from the cold wind of the ride home in Kristen's car. Mordred had followed with his bike to make sure I got back safe, waving from the parking lot before heading off. Tonight had been… magical, in a way I hadn’t expected. The circus stunts, the amusement park rides, the laughter that felt genuine for the first time in weeks. But now, alone in the quiet, the high was fading, and the shadows were creeping back in.I pulled off my boots and tossed them by the door, then sank against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. The chase at the park replayed in my mind like a bad movie on loop. That guy in the black hoodie

Mordred's PoV:The ride back from the amusement park felt like plunging into ice water after the neon warmth of the night. Kianna had insisted I followed them as Kristen dropped her off at the dorm first, and I had no choice but to go with them. Not after the insane incident that just happened at the park.I even expected Kianna to have suspected something or asked questions about why that guy was stalking us. But she didn't, just talked about how crazy the world could be.Kristen also agreed with her. Only if they knew it wasn't the world but my own fault.When we reached the entrance of her Dorm gate, Kristen and I exchanged numbers. A reluctant truce sealed with a nod and a “watch her back.” Kianna hugged me goodbye, her arms lingering just a second longer than necessary, and whispered, “Thanks for tonight. I needed something normal.”Normal. As if anything about us had ever been that. But I gave her a faint smile and nodded.I watched until her dorm door clicked shut behind her,

Mordred PoV:The coaster car slammed to a halt at the bottom of the final drop with its brakes hissing like angry snakes. My stomach was still somewhere up near the top loop, and Kianna’s laughter rang in my ears—high mixed with breathless echoes, the kind of sound that made the whole night worth every risk. Kristen was grinning too, hair wild from the wind, looking more relaxed than I’d ever seen him tonight. For a few minutes, the three of us had been normal teenagers screaming our lungs out on a ride called the Vortex, forgetting bonds, bosses or birthdays.We stumbled off the platform on shaky legs, Kianna clutching both our arms for balance as we laughed our way down the exit ramp. The park lights blurred around us—neon pinks and blues bleeding into one another.What caught my attention most was the smell in the air, it was thick with the aroma of kettle corn and fried dough whilst music pulsed from every direction, mixing with distant screams and the mechanical clank of ride

Mordred's PoV:The wind bit at my knuckles as I idled the bike outside Kianna’s dorm, the engine’s low rumble the only sound cutting through the late-afternoon gray. December cold had settled in hard, the kind that sneaked under your jacket and sat on your chest like a warning. I killed the ignition and pulled off my helmet, running a hand through hair that was probably a mess. My heart was doing something similar—thumping too loud and too fast. I hadn’t felt this nervous since the night I first asked her out using fake dating as an excuse, back when everything between us was new, electric and uncomplicated.I’d texted her this morning on impulse, after another sleepless night haunted by the Boss’s warnings and the ticking clock on her birthday. “Can we talk? In person. No agenda, I just miss you.”Her reply had taken three hours before it came with a simple, “Okay…but just talking.”Now here I was, boots planted on the cracked sidewalk, staring at the dorm door like it might open

LOVIA’S POV:The VIP lounge at Eclipse felt like a velvet-lined trap: low amber lighting, leather booths that swallowed sound, the faint pulse of jazz curling around cigar smoke and expensive perfume. I sat in the corner booth with my back to the wall, legs crossed, martini glass cradled loosely in one manicured hand. Evelyn Pierce—blonde wig flawless, pearls glowing against my throat, black dress cut just low enough to distract without screaming desperation. The perfect mask.They arrived separately, like cautious animals testing the water.Nadia first. Tall, raven-haired, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. The red dress clung to her like a warning. She slid in across from me, diamond choker flashing as she leaned forward. “Ms. Pierce. Thank you for coming.”“Evelyn, please,” I said, voice smooth, cultured. “And thank you for the invitation. I’m always interested when powerful people want to rewrite the rules.”Marcus Hale next—mid-sixties, silver hair slicked back, bespoke sui

LOVIA’S POV The loft still hummed with the aftermath of our night—sweat-slicked sheets tangled on the bed, the faint scent of sex lingering in every corner like a secret we couldn’t erase. Shane dozed beside me, his arm thrown possessively over my waist, chest rising and falling in that steady rhythm that always grounded me after chaos. But peace was a lie in our world. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, the unknown number flashing like a warning. I slipped out from under his arm, careful not to wake him, and padded to the bathroom, closing the door softly before answering.“Evelyn Pierce,” I said, my voice pitched higher, softer—the polished accent of the socialite disguise I’d worn to the gala. No one knew Lovia and Evelyn were one and the same. Not yet.A woman’s voice came through, husky and cautious, with a faint Eastern European lilt. “Ms. Pierce? This is Nadia. We met at the gala—briefly. You were... intriguing.”I leaned against the sink, staring at my reflection: mussed

LOVIA’S POV :The drive back from the warehouse was a blur of neon lights and throbbing veins. Shane’s hand never left my thigh, fingers digging in like he owned every inch of skin…and he did. The SUV hummed beneath us, engine purring like a beast barely leashed, but the real storm brewed inside. Adrenaline crashed through me, hot and electric, mixing with the metallic tang of blood on my gloves and the faint smoke clinging to our clothes. We’d hit them hard, left bodies cooling and flames roaring. Alejandro’s text: “You’re dead. Both of you.“ still lit up Shane’s phone on the dash, a promise we’d turn back on him tenfold.But right now? War could wait. Victory tasted like hunger.Shane pulled into the underground garage of our loft, tires squealing softly on concrete. He killed the engine, and for a beat, we sat in silence, breaths syncing, the air thick with unspoken need. His eyes met mine in the dim glow of the dashboard—dark, feral, promising everything.“Inside,” he growled

ALEJANDRO’S poVThe penthouse reeked of stale cigar smoke and the faint, metallic tang of blood from last week's interrogation. I paced the marble floors like a caged lion, my phone clenched in my fist so tight the screen might crack. The city sprawled below me through the floor-to-ceiling windows—New York, my kingdom, glittering like a whore dressed in diamonds. But tonight, it mocked me. Everything mocked me.That bitch Lovia and her lapdog Shane. They thought they could hit my warehouse, slaughter my men, and send me pictures like some amateur taunt? I stared at the screen again, the images burned into my retinas: bodies twisted in pools of their own blood, YBA tattoos smeared crimson, and that final shot—boots in the gore, feminine legs spattered with red. Hers. Had to be. The fire in the background, my product going up in flames. Millions torched. And the message: “Your men are dead. Your product is ash. Next time it’s you.“I hurled the phone across the room. It smashed ag

LOVIA’S POV:The night tasted like rust and gasoline.We moved through the industrial district like ghosts, two shadows stitched together by moonlight and bad intentions. Shane drove the matte-black SUV with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on my thigh, thumb stroking the seam of my tactical pants like he needed the reminder that I was still breathing and still his.I wore black from throat to boots: fitted cargo pants, a cropped tactical vest that left my midriff bare because I liked the way the cold bit my skin and kept me sharp, and a holster strapped low on each thigh. My hair was braided tight against my skull, nothing for anyone to grab. Shane looked like death’s favorite son: black hoodie pulled up, gloves, the lower half of his face wrapped in a matte balaclava that only left his eyes visible, cold, arctic and lethal.We killed the headlights two blocks out and coasted the rest of the way on momentum and silence. The warehouse squatted ahead of us, ugly concrete b

The sun slanted through the blinds, casting golden bars across the tangled sheets, but the warmth couldn't chase away the chill creeping back into my bones. Shane's arm was still draped over me, his fingers idly tracing the curve of my hip, but his touch had shifted—less urgent now, more thoughtful. We lay there in the afterglow, breaths syncing, bodies spent, but minds already turning to the war we'd paused.I shifted, propping myself on one elbow to face him. His eyes met mine, lazy and satisfied, but sharpened by the unspoken. "We can't stay here forever," I murmured, my voice still husky from the cries he'd pulled from me earlier.He smirked, that infuriating half-smile that made my stomach flip. "Says who?" His hand slid up my side, thumb brushing the underside of my breast, sending a residual spark through me. But he didn't push further; instead, he sat up, sheets pooling around his waist, exposing the hard lines of his abs, the faint scratches I'd left on his chest.I sat u