Novels by Sparky Sparks

Seraphina’s POVComing back here wasn’t a moment of weakness or a sign that I’d lost my way. It was a calculated risk. A strategic choice.Out there, in that foreign country, I had two contacts. One was Raph, my boyfriend, a man who couldn’t protect me from a paper cut, let alone the wolves that were hunting me. The other was the monster fighter whose thumb was still leaving a trail of fire on my skin.So, no, I didn't wonder why I came back. I came back because when you were trapped between a devil you knew and a devil you didn't, you picked the one you thought you could use.I came to Italy for a competition, to prove I was the best. Then, that stage was gone, replaced by a warzone. I had to get back to California before that old maniac found me, before he decided to collect his favorite prize. And this man—this beautiful, brutal fighter standing in front of me—was going to be the key to my freedom.I finally looked away from him, my gaze landing on the sterile white wall behind hi

Hugo’s POVThe familiar scent of sweat, leather, and antiseptic did nothing to ground me. My body was on autopilot, muscles burning as I danced around the ring, but my mind had been a fucking traitor all morning. It wasn't in the gym; it was miles away, back in the silence of my high-rise apartment. It was with her.I had left her there, a fragile little girl, and the thought of her alone in my space had invaded every corner of my mind. Her face was branded onto the back of my eyelids. Not the defiant, terrified face from when I first took her, but a newer image from last night—the unguarded slope of her neck, the soft parting of her lips in sleep. The memory was a splinter under my skin, a constant, maddening irritant. Since when did I let a woman get under my skin? My footwork grew sloppy. The jab I threw was telegraphed and weak. I was leaving my entire left side open, a rookie mistake I hadn’t made in fifteen years. I knew Tristan saw it. He was testing me, his movements beco

Seraphina’s POVMy hands clamped down, knuckles white, a useless fight against the beating of my heart. Stuck in this suffocating dark, every breath was a silent curse, a demand for the outside world to just disappear. Cold, slick sweat crawled down my temples, stinging as it tracked paths to my chin. God, just let me just vanish!Then, a shattering tear. The closet door slammed open, a blinding, brutal flash of light hitting my eyes. My breath caught, a choked, animal sound ripping from my throat, and my eyes snapped wide, wild with pure, raw terror. The shape in the doorway was a looming nightmare, tall, broad... a monster. My heart leapt into my throat, a frantic, trapped thing desperate to break free.But then, the shadow sharpened. Just Hugo. My gut twisted—not pure relief, but a bitter, hard acceptance of this temporary break. The fear didn't leave completely, but it pulled back enough to let me breathe, a cold, solid knot settling where the panic had been."Are you okay?"

Seraphina’s POVI woke up to unfamiliar light filtering through curtains I didn't recognize. Panic flared, a cold dread seizing me as fragments of last night crashed back into my mind. The dark room. His smiling, predatory face. Running. The grimy streets. A choked gasp escaped me. This wasn't my room!I clutched the sheet to my chest, my breath catching as footsteps approached the door, then drew closer to my bedside. "No," I whispered, barely loud. "Please don't be him. Don't be him."My eyes snapped open, widening, then softening with a wave of relief. He wasn't the dangerous maniac from the VIP room. A pair of kind green eyes met mine. It was him, the man who had caught me as I collapsed in terror. "Y-You..." I managed, my voice trembling.He paused, placing a food tray on the nearby table. "I'm not here to hurt you.""I... I know," I said, hugging myself, my gaze falling to the sheets. "Th-thank you...""I don't know what happened to you, Miss," he said, his voice firm but laced

Seraphina’s POVThe stage lights warmed my face as I moved through the final sequence of my ballet routine. A sea of faces watched from the darkness, but my focus was inward, on the music and the movement. A genuine smile touched my lips; this was my dream, to be on a stage where so many people could see the passion I felt. I danced with every piece of my heart until the final note faded. Holding my last pose for a perfect, breathless moment, I then sank into a deep bow. As the sound of applause began to swell, my eyes sparkled toward the judges' table. They weren't clapping; they were already taking notes.We stood in a line on the stage, all of us breathless, our chests rising and falling under the intense heat of the lights. The host, a man with a smile as bright as his sequined jacket, held a small, pristine white card in his palm. The theater was so quiet I could hear the frantic beat of my own heart."Ladies and gentlemen," his voice boomed, echoing through the vast hall. "Ou