Novels by Alia Writes

Wind tore across the sand as the black helicopter descended, its rotors scattering smoke and salt spray. Aria raised an arm to shield her face; the air burned with grit and the smell of fuel. Beside her, Ethan steadied himself against the wind, eyes narrowed to slits.“Stay behind me,” he said.She didn’t move. “You can’t keep saying that.”The machine settled halfway between them and the dying fire on the ridge. Its search-light swept the shoreline once, then fixed on them like a single white eye. A hatch slid open. A woman in a flight suit leaned out, shouting over the roar, “Are you Blackwood and Morgan?”Ethan shouted back, “Who are you?”“Your only exit!”The engines pulsed harder, demanding a decision. Above the surf, faint echoes of gunfire drifted down from the cliffs. The Syndicate hadn’t given up.The ChoiceAria turned to Ethan. “If we get in that thing, we might never know who’s flying it.”“If we don’t,” he answered, “we’ll never know anything again.”She hesitated. For o

The morning broke pale and thin over Porto Santo, light seeping through the cloud cover like water through cracks in stone. The Silas Institute sat at the island’s highest ridge, its broken windows glinting faintly. From below it looked dead. From inside, Aria Morgan could feel the slow, stubborn pulse of machines still breathing in the dark.She followed Dr Clara Voss down a stairwell that smelled of rust and brine. The air was heavy with the residue of chemicals, the hum of backup generators echoing through the halls.“Your mother built most of this herself,” Clara said quietly. “She believed information could outlive blood.”“And Ethan believed blood could control information,” Aria answered.Neither spoke again until they reached the lower level. Rows of glass tubes lined the corridor, each one fogged from within, each tagged with a code. Most were empty; some held fragments—vials, samples, names half-erased by mold.Aria’s stomach twisted. “These were… people?”“Prototypes,” Clar

The waves whispered against the hull as the boat drifted through open water. Aria sat at the stern, the cold wind tangling her hair, her hands gripping the edge of her coat. Lisbon was a smudge of gold far behind her now—its lights fading like a memory she wasn’t sure had ever been real.The captain, an old man with skin tanned by decades of sun, stood at the helm, humming to himself in Portuguese. He hadn’t asked questions when she boarded. She’d given him a wad of euros and a destination scribbled on paper: Porto Santo.He only nodded and said, “Long night, menina?”She had smiled faintly, too tired to lie. “The longest.”Now, in the gray light of dawn, the adrenaline was gone. All that was left was the ache.Her body hurt in places she hadn’t known could hurt. Her heart most of all.The Ghost of HimEvery time she closed her eyes, she saw Ethan. His face in the café window. His voice over the gunfire. The way he said too latebefore disappearing into chaos.Part of her still expecte

The ocean wind swept through the narrow Lisbon streets, carrying the scent of salt and diesel and rain-washed stone. Aria walked fast, her hood drawn low over her face. The morning sun was soft and gold, but her nerves buzzed like static.Every instinct told her she was being watched.She passed a café with blue-tiled walls, its windows fogged from the warmth inside. People laughed over coffee and pastel de nata. The normalcy of it all ached.She slipped into a corner seat, her back to the wall, her laptop open.Her fingers trembled as she reconnected to the encrypted archive Nathaniel had exposed. The words Project Silas pulsed in the header, stark black against white.She clicked.The FileA video opened—grainy footage, time-stamped fifteen years ago.A man in a lab coat was speaking into the camera, his face shadowed. “Phase One concluded. The genetic material was stabilized. Subject C has approved continuation under her daughter’s identity—Subject A.M.—to preserve access to Blackw

The rain hadn’t stopped. It fell in soft, endless sheets, turning the streets into rivers of reflected neon. Aria walked without knowing where she was going, her boots splashing through puddles, her body numb from exhaustion. Her mind replayed the last hour in pieces—Ethan’s eyes when he saw her, Nathaniel’s voice, the folder with her name written over and over.By the time she reached the edge of the city, dawn had begun to break.The skyline bled gold and gray.A cab slowed near the curb, its driver eyeing her warily. “Miss, you all right?”She hesitated. Her reflection in the window was a ghost—hair wet, mascara smudged, a bruise shadowing her jaw where Ethan’s grip had been too tight the night before.“Airport,” she said hoarsely. “Any terminal.”The driver nodded. “Rough night?”“You have no idea.”The EscapeShe paid him in cash from her coat pocket—Ethan’s money, though it felt like stolen currency now—and stepped out beneath the flood of terminal lights.Inside, the airport bu

The fire in Nathaniel’s study had burned low, its light flickering against the tall windows. Aria sat at the desk, the folder he had left in front of her unopened.Outside, rain drummed softly against the glass, the rhythm steady as a heartbeat.She stared at the folder for a long time. A single word was stamped across the cover in bold, black ink.BLACKWOOD.It felt like the name itself carried weight, like saying it aloud might summon the storm.Her fingers shook as she reached for it.The FileInside were photographs—grainy, old, some taken overseas. Ethan with men she didn’t recognize. Some meetings looked formal, others dangerous. In one, he was shaking hands with a man wearing a black ring carved with the same dagger-and-circle emblem from the files she’d seen.She turned the pages. There were transactions in multiple currencies, hidden companies, and government seals she didn’t understand. But every few pages, one thing repeated.Her name.Aria Morgan. Linked to numbered accoun

The cool night air did nothing to quench the heat radiating from my body as he held me against the railing, his cock still buried deep, softening but twitching with aftershocks. My ass ached from his brutal fucking, cum leaking out, mixing with my own juices on my thighs, but the hunger hadn’t faded—it only grew, a relentless ache that demanded more. He pulled out slowly, a low groan escaping him, and I whimpered at the loss, my pussy clenching around nothing. “Still needy,” he murmured, turning me to face him, his hands roaming my body, smearing the mess between us. His fingers found my clit, rubbing in slow circles, and I bucked against him, oversensitive but desperate. “Look at you, trembling for me already.” “Shut up and fuck me again,” I gasped, grabbing his shirt and pulling him close, my lips crashing into his. The kiss was savage, tongues battling, teeth clashing, his taste—salt, whiskey, and me—driving me wild. He responded with equal ferocity, lifting me off the railing an

The city stretched out below like a glittering tapestry, its lights twinkling against the midnight sky as I stood on the rooftop terrace, the cool October air brushing against my skin. It was 09:11 AM WAT on Thursday, October 09, 2025, but up here, time felt irrelevant—suspended in the haze of a gala I’d fled downstairs. My black dress hugged my curves, the plunging neckline exposing the swell of my breasts, nipples hardening from the breeze and the thrill of being alone. I shouldn’t have been here, sneaking away from the polished crowd, but the solitude was intoxicating, the edge of the railing calling to me with a dangerous promise. Champagne fizzed in my glass, my fingers trembling slightly as I sipped, the alcohol fueling the heat pooling between my thighs.Footsteps echoed behind me—slow, deliberate, sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine. I turned, heart pounding, and there he was, emerging from the shadows like a predator stalking prey. Tall and lean, his white shirt un

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the cabin walls, but the real heat was between us—raw, animalistic, consuming everything in its path. My body still trembled from the first orgasm, cum drying on my back, pussy sore but aching for more. He lay beside me, his cock already hardening again, eyes locked on mine with that predatory gleam. "You think that's all? We're stuck here all night. I'm gonna fuck you until you can't walk." I shivered at his words, rolling onto my side to face him, my hand trailing down his chest, over the ridges of his abs, to grip his thickening shaft. "Promise?" I whispered, stroking him slowly, feeling him grow in my palm. He groaned, thrusting into my hand, his fingers finding my nipple, twisting it hard enough to make me yelp. "Get on your hands and knees," he ordered, voice rough. I obeyed, ass in the air, pussy exposed and dripping. He kneeled behind me, spreading my cheeks, his tongue diving into my folds again, lapping hungri

The rain pounded against the old wooden cabin like a relentless drumbeat, each drop echoing my growing frustration as the storm trapped me in this isolated spot deep in the woods. I'd come here for a weekend escape, to clear my head from the monotonous grind of city life, but now the roads were flooded, the power was out, and I was alone with nothing but a flickering lantern and the howling wind. My thin tank top and shorts clung to my skin from the humidity, my nipples hardening against the fabric as the chill seeped in. I paced the small room, my bare feet slapping against the creaky floorboards, trying to ignore the ache building between my legs—a familiar restlessness that always hit when I was isolated like this.That's when the knock came—three heavy thuds that cut through the thunder like a command. My heart jumped, a mix of fear and excitement surging through me. Who the hell could be out there in this mess? I approached the door cautiously, peering through the small window, b

The wind tore across the rooftop, whipping strands of hair across my face, but I barely noticed. All I could feel was him—heat, pressure, hunger—and every nerve ending in my body screamed for more.“You’re trembling,” he murmured, low and rough, pressing close, hands roaming my body. “Do you know why?”“Yes… I… I can’t… I need…” I gasped, pressing back instinctively, thighs quivering, core aching uncontrollably. “I need you…”“Good,” he murmured, sliding his hands under my skirt, fingers curling expertly, pressing, teasing, drawing every moan, every gasp, every shiver from me. “Because I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name, trembling, begging for more.”His lips found mine in a fierce, demanding kiss, tongue and teeth teasing, lips pressing hard against mine. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, clinging, desperate. Every nerve ending was alive, every inch of me on fire.“You’re mine,” he whispered, voice low and commanding. “Every gasp, every moan… all yours.”

The city skyline stretched endlessly beneath me, lights twinkling like a thousand tiny stars, but I barely noticed. All I could feel was the heat of him behind me, the press of his body, the electricity sparking between us.We weren’t supposed to be here. Not on this rooftop, not in this dangerous, forbidden space, not like this. But temptation had a way of breaking every rule.He leaned close, breath hot against my ear. “You really shouldn’t be standing so close to the edge,” he murmured, voice low, rough, teasing. “It’s dangerous.”“I can handle it,” I whispered, though my knees were already trembling, heart racing, thighs pressing together. “I can handle… this.”“You don’t know what ‘this’ really means,” he murmured, pressing closer, hands brushing along my waist, teasing, claiming. “Until you feel it, until you taste it, until you’re trembling and undone.”His hands slid over my body, teasing, curling, pressing against every curve, every sensitive spot. My breath hitched, body arc

The days blurred into a haze of stolen moments and whispered sins.Elena moved through the mansion like a ghost in her own life—smiling at Richard over breakfast, nodding at his endless conference calls, all while her body hummed with the memory of Adrian’s hands, his mouth, the way he’d claimed her again and again until she forgot how to breathe without him inside her.Richard noticed nothing.Or so she told herself.But Adrian noticed everything.He watched her across the dinner table with eyes that stripped her bare, his foot sliding up her calf beneath the linen cloth while Richard droned on about stock prices. He cornered her in the pantry while she reached for wine, pressing her against the shelves, fingers slipping beneath her dress to tease her through lace already soaked for him.“You’re thinking about me,” he’d murmur, nipping her earlobe. “Even when he’s talking. Even when he kisses your cheek goodnight.”And she was. God help her, she was.The jealousy started small.A fli

The next morning dawned with a deceptive calm, sunlight spilling across the marble floors like liquid gold. Elena woke alone in her bed, the sheets twisted around her legs, the faint ache between her thighs a constant reminder of the night before. Adrian’s scent lingered on the pillow beside her—musk and sex and something darker, something that made her stomach clench with equal parts dread and hunger.Richard was already gone, his side of the bed cold and untouched. A note on the nightstand in his precise handwriting: Early meeting. Back by lunch. Love you.She stared at the words until they blurred. Love. What a hollow sound it made now.Her phone buzzed. Pool. Ten minutes. Wear the red bikini.Adrian. Her pulse spiked. The red bikini was a relic from a long-ago vacation with Richard—tiny triangles of fabric that barely contained her curves. She hadn’t worn it in years. She should ignore him. Should delete the message, lock her door, and pretend last night had been a fever dream.

The sun had barely crested the horizon when Elena’s phone buzzed on the nightstand.Richard.She stared at the screen, his name glowing like an accusation, then silenced it and rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow that still smelled of Adrian’s skin. Her body ached in places it hadn’t ached in years, sweet bruises blooming beneath the silk of her nightgown, bite marks on the inside of her thigh that throbbed every time she shifted. She should feel filthy.She should feel broken.Instead, she felt alive, electric, every nerve humming with the memory of Adrian’s mouth, his hands, the way he’d stretched her open and filled her until she forgot her own name.Another buzz.Flight lands at 7 p.m. Can’t wait to see you.Richard was coming home tonight. The thought should have doused the fire in her belly. Instead it fanned it. The clock was ticking. The mansion would no longer be their private playground. Doors would have to stay locked. Lies would have to be perfected.

The steam from the bathtub still clung to Elena's skin like a lover's breath, thick and heavy, as she lay sprawled across the cool marble floor where Adrian had left her moments ago. Her body trembled uncontrollably, not from the chill of the tiles seeping into her bare back, but from the fire he'd ignited deep inside her—a fire that refused to be quenched, no matter how fiercely her mind screamed that this was betrayal, that this was ruin. Water dripped from her hair, pooling around her shoulders, mixing with the slick evidence of her arousal that still coated her inner thighs. She pressed her legs together, a futile attempt to stifle the throbbing ache between them, but it only heightened the sensation, making her gasp softly into the empty bathroom.How had it come to this? Just minutes earlier, she'd been soaking in lavender-scented water, trying to wash away the sins of the previous nights—the teasing glances, the midnight kitchen encounter, the stolen kiss in her bedroom that ha

Elena hadn’t been able to sleep all night. The echoes of Adrian’s touch, the memory of his lips brushing so close to hers, the dangerous heat in his eyes—it all haunted her in the dark silence of her bedroom. Richard had been snoring beside her, oblivious, while she lay wide awake, torn between guilt and longing.She told herself again and again that it had to stop. Whatever this was, whatever dangerous game they had begun to play—it needed to end before it consumed her. He was her stepson, her husband’s child. She was supposed to be the respectable wife, the perfect stepmother.But then morning came, and she found herself in the kitchen, robe tied loosely around her waist, and there he was.Adrian. Leaning against the counter like he owned the place, shirtless, a glass of juice in his hand. His dark hair was damp from the shower, and droplets of water slid down his chest, disappearing into the waistband of his sweatpants.Her throat went dry.“Morning,” he drawled, his lips curving i

The mansion was too quiet.Elena had spent the day scrubbing counters, rearranging bookshelves, folding already-folded clothes—anything to keep herself busy. Anything to avoid thinking about the kiss. About his hands pinning her to the wall. About the way her body burned every time he came too close.But it was useless.No matter how hard she tried, Adrian lingered in her thoughts like a shadow she couldn’t escape. She hated herself for it. She hated the way her pulse spiked at the thought of him. She hated the way her thighs pressed together at night, seeking a relief she couldn’t admit to.By evening, she was exhausted, drained from fighting a battle she was losing inside her own skin.She decided to soak in the bathtub. Hot water. Lavender oil. Silence. Maybe that would help.Steam curled around the marble bathroom, fogging the mirror. Elena slid into the water, letting it envelop her, her head tipping back against the edge. She closed her eyes, willing herself to forget, if only f