Novels by Kiss K

Talia’s POVThe new couch still had the plastic wrap on the cushions when the delivery men carried it through the door.Gage signed for it, tipped them, and walked them back out into the hallway with the same calm politeness he used for everything public. The second the apartment door clicked shut he turned the lock, looked at me standing barefoot in one of his old T-shirts, and pointed at the still-wrapped couch.“Bend over.”My stomach flipped. “They just left. They might still be—”“They’re taking the elevator. Bend over the arm, Talia. Now.”I moved. The plastic was cool and slick under my palms as I braced myself over the wide armrest. Gage stepped up behind me, shoved the T-shirt up over my hips, and found me bare underneath. He made a low sound of approval when his fingers slid through the wetness that had started the moment the door locked.“You’ve been dripping since they carried this thing in,” he muttered. “Standing there all polite while two strangers put furniture in our

: Bella’s POV The red swimsuit was worse than the black one. It was smaller, thinner, the kind of competitive cut that left almost nothing to the imagination once it got wet. Cole had laid it out on the bench before I arrived, along with a small black case. “Put it on,” he said. “Then bend over the starting block.” I changed in the empty locker room, heart already racing. When I came back out the pool lights were even lower than last night—just enough blue glow to see the water and the hard lines of his body. He was already in the shallow end, waiting. I bent over the block like he told me. Cool fingers hooked the crotch of the red suit aside. Something smooth and cool pressed against my entrance—smaller than his cock, but thick enough to make me suck in a breath. He worked it inside me with slow, steady pressure until the base seated flush against my lips. A soft click sounded. The toy woke up on the lowest setting, a deep, rolling vibration that made my knees weaken.

Bella’s POV The indoor pool was empty. The usual daytime noise—laughing kids, whistle blasts, the slap of wet feet on tile—was gone. Only the soft lap of water against the edges and the low hum of the filtration system remained. The overhead lights had been dimmed to a soft blue, casting long ripples across the ceiling. My stepdad, Cole, stood at the shallow end in black swim trunks, arms crossed, watching me like he already knew how this lesson would end. He had married my mother two years ago. Quiet. Strict. The kind of man who never raised his voice because he never needed to. When the regular swim coach quit mid-season, Cole stepped in without asking anyone’s permission. Private lessons, he said. Just until I could pass the float test the school required. I still couldn’t float. Or at least, that was what I kept telling him. “In the water, Bella.” I stripped down to the plain black one-piece he’d chosen for these sessions. The fabric was thin when wet. It clung. I stepped

** Lisa’s POV The next day the studio lights were different. Not the warm stage lights from the concert. Not the harsh mirrors of the dance floor. These were soft, golden, cinematic—set up in the private soundstage my stepfather owned for exclusive video shoots. No crew. No extras. Just the three of them and me. My step-cousin Julian stood behind the camera, black shirt sleeves rolled up, headset around his neck even though no one else was listening. He was only a few years older than me, sharp-jawed, always calm, the one who directed every music video for the group. Today the set was closed. Teammates were still at home. “Lingerie only,” Julian said, voice low. “The concept is pure sex. Camera needs to feel it.” I stepped out of the robe. The set he’d chosen for me was barely there—sheer black lace bra that didn’t hide my nipples, matching thong that disappeared between my cheeks, garter straps, and nothing else. My skin still carried faint marks from yesterday’s contort

** Lisa’s POV The studio was quiet in a way it never was during normal rehearsals. No music thumping through the walls. No laughter from the other girls. Just the soft hum of the air conditioning and the faint scent of the polished floor. My teammates had all gone home early. Family dinners. Boyfriends. Normal lives. I was still here. Because my step-uncle Marcus—dance director of Dad’s entire studio complex—had decided I needed “private technique work.” And because my stepfather was already waiting in the observation chair by the mirrors, phone in one hand, that same calm, assessing look he always wore when he was about to push me past every limit I thought I had. Marcus locked the door. “Shoes off. Stretch.” I stripped down to the tiny black leotard and nothing else, the way he preferred for private sessions. The fabric was already damp between my legs. My body remembered last night’s stage orgasm too well. Marcus circled me slowly, barefoot, black sweatpants hangin

Lisa’s POV “Go Lisa! Go Lisa! Go Lisa!” The lights hit me like a physical force. White-hot, blinding, perfect. The crowd roared the second the first beat dropped, a wall of sound that made the stage vibrate under my boots. I gripped the mic stand tighter, smiling for the cameras even as my legs shook. The short, backless stage dress clung to my damp skin. Underneath it, nothing but the thick, ridged length of the remote-controlled dildo my stepfather had pushed into me an hour before the show. Nine thick inches of glossy black silicone, vibrating on a low, teasing pulse that never quite stopped. My group members flanked me, hitting their harmonies perfectly, completely clueless. They thought the flush on my cheeks was adrenaline. They thought the way my hips kept twitching was just the choreography. They had no idea our producer—my stepdad—was backstage with his thumb on the app, deciding exactly how hard I was going to fall apart in front of fifteen thousand people.

**Epilogue: Three Years Later** **Lily’s POV**The auditorium smelled of floor polish and new paper.I sat in the front row of graduates with the rest of the final-year law students, the black gown heavy on my shoulders and the mortarboard balanced carefully on my head. Three years of lectures, late-night study groups, moot court arguments that left my voice hoarse, and early-morning basketball practices that kept my body honest had led to this single afternoon. My name sat near the top of the program under the list of special awards. The knowledge still felt slightly unreal, as if the girl who had once written desperate sentences in a hotel journal might look up and find that none of this belonged to her.When the dean reached the final announcements, the room quieted.“Overall Best Student — highest academic performance, outstanding peer mentorship, and excellence in sports — Lily Hale.”The applause rose around me in a warm, rolling wave. I stood, smoothed the gown, and walked to

**** Lily P o v The sincerity in his voice made the anger harder to hold. That only made me more defensive. Sincerity had been a tool before. Soft words had been the beginning of doors I later could not close. “Don’t be a demon,” I snapped. “I already said no.” I dropped the shears, wiped my hands on my jeans, and walked back into the building before he could answer. I took the stairs two at a time and shut the apartment door harder than necessary. The sound echoed in the stairwell. Mom was in the sitting room. She looked up from the papers she was sorting and took in my face in one glance—the flushed cheeks, the tight mouth, the way I was still wiping my hands as if something clung to them. “Are you okay, Lily?” she asked quietly. The automatic yes rose first. I almost said it. The old habit of protecting her from the complicated truth still lived close to the surface. Then I remembered the hospital, the pills swallowed in secret, the way she had told me that secrets were the

****Lily’s POV**The next stretch of days arrived quietly and without drama.I had coffee with Kara on the tiny balcony two mornings in a row. We sat with our mugs balanced on the narrow railing and watched the street below while she talked about her course list for Star University. She was excited in a way I hadn’t seen since before everything collapsed—voice brighter, hands moving as she described the campus map and the required electives and the fact that we would finally be in the same place at the same time. I mostly listened. The coffee was average, slightly bitter, the kind that came from the cheap machine in the kitchen. The company was not. For the first time in a long while, being near my sister felt simple instead of heavy. No shared glances full of the old house. No careful silences around the things we still did not name out loud. Just two mugs and the morning light and her voice moving through ordinary plans.Basketball practice came twice that week. I showed up early b

**Lily’s POV**at home I needed air.I pushed open the window in my bedroom and leaned on the sill, letting the cooler breeze move across my face. The building opposite ours was almost identical, close enough that I could see into the windows if the curtains were open. The narrow courtyard between us held a few potted plants and a single bench no one seemed to use. Movement caught my eye.Jax stood on a small balcony directly across from mine, a silver flute raised to his mouth. He played something slow and clean, the notes carrying easily across the space between the buildings—soft, precise, without showiness. For a second I only listened. The music had no right to sound that calm. Then he lowered the flute and looked up.Our eyes met.His widened in clear recognition. The same tall frame, the same dark hair, the same face that had made my body react in the hallway before I shut the reaction down. He lifted one hand and waved, small and uncertain, as if testing whether the distance

**Lily’s POV**I sat at the small desk by the window with my journal open and the city quiet below.The hospital conversation with Mom still sat in my chest like a bruise that had not finished fading. Her words kept returning in the exact tone she had used: *You are not as innocent as you like to act. You participated. You hid.* I didn’t argue with them anymore. The argument had burned itself out on the sofa that afternoon while I cried and finally admitted that the stepfamily had never needed to force the door. They had only needed me to leave it unlocked and to keep the truth of how my body answered them away from the one person who might have closed it. I simply opened to a clean page and wrote the sentence I had been turning over since we left the hospital.*My body is not public.* *It is not for everyone.* *It does not have to answer every time it is wanted.*I underlined the last line twice, pressing the pen hard enough that the paper dented. Then I kept writing—short, uneve

****Lily’s POV**Mom decided we were going to the hospital on a quiet morning when the apartment still smelled of coffee and toast.She didn’t ask me if I felt sick. She didn’t ask me if my cycle had come. She simply stood in the doorway of my room with her bag already on her shoulder and said, “Get dressed. We’re getting you checked.”I knew what she meant.The possibility had been sitting between us since the night everything collapsed—unspoken, heavy, and mine to carry alone until now. I had taken the emergency pills after the worst nights of the reunion, swallowing them in secret with shaking hands in the dark of the guest bathroom or later in the hotel while she and Kara slept. At the time it had felt like the only control I had left. I never told her. I never told anyone. The fear of pregnancy had lived in my body like a second pulse, quiet and constant, even after the pills.The hospital was bright and impersonal. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead. We sat in a waiting area fi

**Yasmeen’s POV**Neither of us breathed.Mr. Hale’s presence on the other side of the door pressed against the room like a physical weight. Liam’s hand was still locked around my thigh. My heart slammed so hard I was certain it could be heard through the wood. For three endless seconds there was only silence.Then Liam’s voice came out steady, almost casual.“I’m here. Give me a minute.”Footsteps shifted outside. A soft, acknowledging sound. Then the slow roll of wheelchair wheels moving a short distance down the corridor — not fully leaving, but no longer directly against the door. The danger had not disappeared. It had only stepped back.Liam looked at me.The hunger had not left his eyes. He released my thigh only long enough to reach up and cover my mouth with his palm. The message was clear. I nodded once against his hand. He settled over me fully, the weight of his body pressing me into the mattress, and guided himself to my entrance with his free hand.He pushed in slowly.E

****Yasmeen’s POV**Liam suddenly stare at me with dizzy eyes.... his eyes were pretty so I look away shyly....he pulled my neck towards him slowly and lick my lower lip.... the next his hand had slid into my hair and his mouth was on mine. The fuck Liam is kissing me freely.... without me trying.... what the fuck has possessed him.....The kiss was nothing like the careful almost-kisses that had come before — not the test in Spain, not the brief press of lips in the pool, not the first real kiss in the library that had still carried the weight of years of denial. This was deep and open and consuming. His tongue pushed past my lips without hesitation, stroking against mine, claiming the space like he had decided the time for restraint was over. I made a small sound and he only angled his head and went deeper.He kissed me until my lungs burned. He pause until I get enough air.... then is tongue slid against mine in slow, filthy strokes again that made my toes curl against the mat

**Liam’s POV**“That was me…”The words left my mouth in a thin whisper the moment the torn mask slipped from my fingers. The road was already empty. .mask guy or whatever name belonged to the face under the black fabric — had vanished into the industrial dark as if he had never stood there at all. My hands were shaking. The aftershock of the fight still lived in my ribs and the split at the corner of my mouth, but it was nothing compared to the cold that had settled behind my eyes.For years people had argued that Lucas and I were not true twins. We did not look alike. Our mother had always corrected them with the same calm sentence: *They are fraternal.* We shared a birthday and a last name and almost nothing else. Different builds. Different temperaments. Different ways of moving through a room. I had grown up watching the softer version of the Hale name receive the public warmth while the sharper one was left to the edges. The only thing we had ever seemed to orbit in common was t

**Lucas’s POV**The hideout sat behind a row of abandoned textile warehouses on the eastern edge of the city. No signage. No obvious guards at the entrance. The kind of place that existed only for people who already knew it was there. I parked two streets away and walked the rest of the distance with my collar up, the late afternoon light already thinning. The man who met me at the side door wore a plain black mask that covered everything except his eyes. He did not ask for a name. He only tilted his head and led me down a concrete stairwell into a low-ceilinged room lit by a single hanging bulb.Lord Dargrasingh was not present.The masked attendant gestured toward a metal chair. I did not sit. We spoke in short sentences — money routes that had grown quieter since the hospital, the disruption caused by the new Italian security that had appeared at the mansion overnight, the fact that my father’s sudden clarity was becoming a problem for everyone who had preferred him silent. I left

**Yasmeen’s POV**Morning in the mansion felt like a different country.The new security moved through the halls with a silence that was almost elegant. They did not speak unless spoken to. They did not smile. When they passed one another they exchanged only the smallest nods, as if the entire house had been placed under a language of gestures. The old staff looked smaller somehow. Beatrice stayed close to me from the moment I left the bedroom, her usual chatter replaced by careful glances toward every corner.Mrs. Hale’s voice had gone hoarse overnight, but it had not stopped. From the locked suite upstairs the same demand repeated at irregular intervals — *Let me go* — sometimes sharp, sometimes breaking into something that sounded almost like fear. No one answered her. The Italian men stationed outside her door might as well have been carved from the same stone as the walls.I found Liam in the sunroom.He stood near the long windows with a cup of untouched coffee in his hand, watc

****Liam’s POV**She did not stay on my lap.After the last slow roll of her hips she lifted herself off me completely. The sudden emptiness dragged a rough sound from my throat. My cock stood wet and aching in the cool air of the library, still twitching from how tightly she had taken me, still marked by the way she had held me inside when I tried to pull out. I expected her to untie the belt. Instead she sank to her knees between my spread thighs, the same determined expression she had worn when she ordered me to give her my wrists.I looked down at her.Yasmeen held my gaze for a second, then leaned in and took me into her mouth.The heat of it after the long reverse ride nearly made my head fall back against the chair. She did not tease. She sucked me with focused, deliberate pulls, one hand wrapped around the base while her lips and tongue worked the rest. Every time she took me deeper I felt the residual flutter of her throat. My bound wrists strained against the leather. The w

Mona POV I held my tongue until Lucas’s scent was completely gone from the western approach. Then I turned on Alessandro in the cabin doorway, the bond already carrying the shape of my refusal before I spoke. “No.” He closed the door, set the bar, and waited. Not dismissive—present. The gold in his eyes was steady, but I could feel him bracing for a fight he had known was coming the moment Lucas said the word *return*. “I’m not walking back into that territory,” I said. “Not as a negotiated exception. Not as a stabilizing symbol. Not as the pregnant proof that their former Alpha made a real bond and they should all calm down about it. They called me a traitor in open hall. They put binding cords on my wrists and a kill-order on our names. My mother had to learn the truth as public spectacle. I am not taking our child into a place that still smells like that vote.” Alessandro leaned against the table edge, arms folded, listening without interrupting. The bond transmitted his agr

**Mona POVLucas found us on a morning so quiet I almost missed the change in the air.Alessandro felt it first. The bond snapped tight with recognition and immediate tactical readiness, and he was already moving me behind the cabin’s thicker wall before I fully registered the single, deliberate howl from the western marker—the one that meant *parley*, not hunt.“Ironfang,” I whispered.“Lucas,” Alessandro corrected. “Alone. Or presenting as alone.”He went out to meet him. I stayed in the trees with my power held just under the skin, close enough to intervene, far enough that a second party would have to work to use me as leverage. The pregnancy still barely showed, but every protective instinct in the bond had already rearranged itself around that fact.Lucas stood in the small clearing in human form, hands visible, no escort in scent range. He looked older than he had in the hall. Tired in a way that had nothing to do with a single hard run.“You’re a long way from interim authori

Mona POVThe second visit from the border runner came without trade goods.He stopped at the same western marker Alessandro had arranged, stayed in plain sight, and waited. No weapons drawn. No approach toward the cabin. When Alessandro came back from the meeting, the bond was already tight with concentrated attention.“Ironfang is splitting,” he said.I set down the water tin I’d been scrubbing and gave him my full focus. “How badly?”“Badly enough that neutrals are talking about it as a territorial risk.” He sat on the cabin step, elbows on his knees, sorting the information into usable pieces. “Lucas has interim authority on paper, but the elders are not unified behind him. Gray wants stricter isolation and a permanent black mark on both of us. Another faction thinks the rogue declaration was panic and that a former Alpha with a completed true-mate bond is a problem better solved by negotiation than by endless search lines. The warriors are tired. The border families are tired. And

Mona POVHe didn’t sleep that night.I felt it through the bond in restless waves—joy so bright it almost hurt, braided tight with a fear that had nothing to do with Ironfang patrols or rogue scents. Alessandro lay behind me on the narrow bunk, one hand spread protectively over my lower belly as if the child might slip away if he stopped touching the proof of it. Every time I drifted toward sleep, the bond pulled me back into the current of his thinking.At some point near dawn I turned in his arms and found him already watching me, gold eyes clear in the dark.“You’re spiraling,” I said softly.“I’m calculating.” His voice was rough from disuse. “Food stores. Distance to reliable water. How fast I can move us if a search line pushes this deep. How far neutral territory actually is when one of us can’t run at full strength for much longer. What happens if the pregnancy is hard. What happens if it’s easy and the child arrives in a world that still calls us traitors.”I reached up and t

Mona POVIt started as a wrongness I tried to blame on the forest diet.Three mornings in a row the smell of the hearth smoke turned my stomach before I was fully awake. The fourth morning I had to step outside into the cold and breathe through a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with fear or residual drug haze from the capture. Alessandro felt the spike through the bond and was at the door before I could wave him off.“You’re sick.”“It’s nothing. Bad root. Or the water.”He didn’t argue. He just watched me with that particular stillness he used when he was already three steps ahead of the explanation I was offering. By the end of the week the nausea had a rhythm. Certain scents were impossible. My power, usually a steady hum under my skin, kept shifting in restless little surges that didn’t match any external threat.On the eighth morning I woke before dawn, pressed my hand flat to my lower belly, and knew.Not in a vague, hopeful, maybe way. In the deep, animal way a wolf knows

Mona POVThe news came from a traveler, not a hunter.We had been at the cabin just over two weeks when Alessandro caught a lone wolf’s scent on the western approach—not Ironfang, not rogue in the Dargrel sense, but a neutral border runner who moved messages and small trade between territories that preferred not to speak officially. Alessandro met him at a distance while I stayed in the trees with my power held ready. They spoke for less than ten minutes. No one drew blood.When Alessandro came back, his expression was unreadable in a way that made the bond tighten.“What is it?” I asked.He set down the small pouch of salt and dried meat the runner had traded for a clean warning about Ironfang search patterns. Then he looked at me directly.“Your mother has taken a companion.”The words landed strangely—too simple for the weight they carried. I sat down on the cabin’s single step because standing suddenly felt complicated.“A companion,” I repeated.“Not a full public mating. Not yet