Novels by Desiree smith

Chapter Five: Truth or DareRhea’s POV“Should I?”The question slipped from my mouth softly, almost lazily, yet it landed between us like a challenge thrown at his feet.Leon blinked.For the briefest moment, he looked genuinely lost. Not angry. Not dominant. Just… confused. As though the scene he’d rehearsed in his mind, the tears, the confrontation, the desperate plea, had gone off script entirely.“Rhea,” he said quietly, lowering his voice the way he always did when he wanted control back. “I know what you’re thinking.”I swirled the last of the wine in my glass, watching the deep red cling to the sides. “Do you?”“You’re upset,” he continued carefully. “About Elara. About what people might be assuming.”I tipped the glass back and finished it. The wine burned pleasantly as it slid down my throat. “Are you upset about something?”He frowned. “No, I just, ” He paused, clearly scrambling. “I thought you might be feeling… I don’t know. Jealous.”I turned fully toward him, resting my

Chapter Four: I’m PrettierRhea’s POVLeon’s eyes swept the hall like a silent command, sharp and furious, searching for the person bold enough to invite me. The crowd shifted uneasily under his scrutiny. Laughter dimmed. Conversations fractured into murmurs.I noticed Lina shrink slightly, instinctively stepping behind another guest, her shoulders rounding as if she expected to be blamed. The sight twisted something in my chest.Elara moved before Leon could speak.She glided toward me with practiced grace, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. Her smile was flawless, white, controlled, and entirely empty of warmth.“You must be Rhea Vale,” she said smoothly. “I’m Elara Voss. Leon’s… old friend.”Old friend. The euphemism tasted bitter.“I’m sure he’s mentioned me.”I met her gaze evenly. “I’m sure.”Because the truth was, he rarely had. Not really. Only vague references. A shadow. A name without substance. A ghost I was never meant to compete with.Her eyes flicked ove

Chapter Three: Why Are You Here?Rhea’s POVI stared at the message until the words began to blur, my pulse beating so loudly in my ears that it drowned out the sounds of the city beyond the riverbank, because knowing that Rowan Nightfall would arrive in seven days made the future feel suddenly tangible in a way it hadn’t before, like a door closing slowly but decisively behind me.Seven days.I hadn’t expected that much time, and yet it felt impossibly short, like borrowed air that would run out before I figured out how to breathe on my own again.Rowan Nightfall.Even seeing his name on my screen stirred something old and complicated in my chest, a mixture of resistance and familiarity that I had never fully untangled, not even after three years of deliberate distance.Rowan was nine years older than me, and I had known him since childhood, long before crowns and councils and the weight of sovereignty had settled onto his shoulders. He had been the Lycan heir who visited Ironclaw te

Chapter Two: The Space I Was Meant to FillRhea’s POVFootsteps sounded on the stairs, steady and unhurried, the kind of sound that belonged to someone who was certain of where they were going and unconcerned with who might be waiting for them.I scrubbed at my cheeks with the back of my hand and turned toward the sink, running water over an already clean tray simply to give myself something to do, something that explained why I was still standing there instead of collapsing under the weight pressing against my chest.“You’re still awake?”Leon stood in the doorway, already dressed.Not casually. Not halfway.Fully.His hair was styled with deliberate care, every line sharp, every detail controlled, and the expensive cologne I had given him for his birthday clung to the air, heavy enough to feel intentional. He wore the black shirt I had bought him months ago, the one he’d once laughed at and called too formal for ordinary nights, the one he had said made him look like he was trying t

Chapter One: The Woman He Still WantedRhea’s POVI was straddling Leon, my thighs tight around his hips as my body rose and fell in a rhythm I had learned through repetition rather than instinct, my palms pressed flat against his chest while the bed creaked beneath us with every movement, sounding far too loud in the quiet room. My hair spilled down my back, damp with sweat, clinging to my skin as I rolled my hips forward, then back, searching for a response I could feel rather than one I had to imagine.He filled me completely, the stretch of him familiar, intimate in a way that should have felt grounding, comforting, like coming home after a long absence, yet something about it felt practiced rather than present, as though his body knew what to do even when his mind was elsewhere.“God, Rhea,” he breathed.The words should have sent warmth flooding through me, but they stopped short of his eyes, which drifted past my shoulder instead of holding mine, unfocused and distant, as if he