Novels by Lizzy Fash

MARISSA The wind was unusually cold. It whipped through the training fields like it had a cruel purpose, curling around my boots and tangling in Lyna's braids as she stood opposite me, stance poised, eyes focused. We'd been sparring all morning, or rather, she'd been sparring and I’d been trying not to laugh every time she slipped on the frosted grass. "Again," she growled, brushing snow off her elbow. "You sure? Your pride's already taken enough hits for the morning." "Shut up." I smirked and raised my blade again. We were about to lock again when a shadow passed too fast overhead. My wolf rose instantly, every hair on my body reacting. Lyna stilled. "You feel that?" I nodded slowly. "Something's wrong." We dropped our practice stances and sprinted. No more training. Just instinct. The castle wasn't far, but by the time we arrived at the edge of the southern garden, I could smell blood. "Alexia!" Lyna shouted. There, near the old archway, was chaos. Broken ston

Audacus I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be begging. Not in this life or the last. And yet, here I was—drenched in pride I could no longer afford to keep, knocking on gates that had opened to me in silence before. "We do not open our gates to ghosts," the gatekeeper of the Seraphim Mountains said, not even bothering to look down at me. "I'm not a ghost," I said to him. "You walk like one." The gates remained shut. My name, once spoken in awe, was whispered now only in corners of fear or disgust. Hailey had managed that. Her rise was my downfall. Her power, a shadow that now stood taller than even the oldest alliances I'd thought sacred. I left the mountains with wind whipping at my cloak and no answers. "Bastards," I muttered. Desperation tastes bitter. It coats the back of your throat like bile and rests at the back of your eyes, tightening your jaw when pride insists you scream instead. The Dune Empire was the second I auditioned for. Dry, gold, and infested with

HAILEY I always knew the day would come when I'd have to let her go; still, no amount of prophecy or preparation readies a mother to say goodbye to her child, even if it was a child conceived via your seed without your knowledge. The sun had barely breached the horizon when I woke. The sky was soft and pale, a quiet blush before the burn of goodbye. I stood in the castle’s eastern garden, fingers buried in the hem of my robe, staring out over the mist-covered valley. I could feel her before I heard her footsteps. Akasha....I didn’t turn. Not yet. I needed a moment to breathe. My heart had been too full for days; I knew this day would come. And now it has. "Mother?" Her voice was soft behind me. I turned slowly. She looked radiant, hair swept back into golden braids, the ceremonial silks of the mating rite wrapped around her shoulders. The mark of her lineage burnt faintly on her collarbone. She looked both young and ancient, a young version of myself and a replica of Turte

AKASHA I exhale as Jaden exits me, telling me to take care. Everyone has been really supportive, especially Mother, but I'm not doing great today; I curl up in pain as he shuts the door. The scent of wildfire clung to my skin, but it wasn't smoke. It was my excess longing for my mates. My hands trembled as I gripped the bedspread edge in the middle of the room. Moonlight poured through the arched window, striping silver along my bare arms. The fire in the hearth cracked, but it only added to the fluid pull in my core. "Akasha…" Virgo's voice, low and deep, rough along the edge of control. I turned slowly to him, my pupils expanding, the wolf inside me ripping its way to the forefront, pleading for touch, claiming. I knew the scent that had brought them here. My heat had come—and it hadn't asked permission. Lucian walked closely behind him, completely shirtless. Eyes as dark as an eclipse devouring the stars. He didn't speak. He didn't have to. They felt it too. I held

KAEL The wind on the eastern peaks was biting today, slicing through the clouds with a precision I'd love to slice through to reach the turmoil threatening our world. I stood at the railing of the balcony, cloak flying behind me, the wind whispering its secrets against my skin as I called for Draco. Aurora walks in quietly. Her steps were always precise, always silent. But I'd know her anywhere even when she moved like shadow. "He told the truth, Kael," she stated, falling into step alongside me. I glanced at her "Noah, the new bear king?" She nodded. Her silver hair was braided with amethyst threads, and her eyes burned with the storms that danced upon the cliffs. "He came in peace and with a warning while trying to gain recognition or an alliance with the Queen."I tilted my head to one side. "Audacus came to him and not the other way around."Yes. Begging allegiance. Begging armies."And he rejected him."He laughed at him in his face, says Noah."I allowed the edge of my lip to ri

AUDACUS I arrived at the border of the Bear Kingdom with a sour taste in my mouth and bare murder in my bones. The air was filled with pine and river rock, and beneath that, something darker—a scent I knew intimately. Power. The bears had a new king, and I needed him. Or, rather, I needed his army. His brawn. His blind, paw-swinging rage. The border guards smelt me out before cautiously approaching, spear at the ready, nostrils flaring. "Announce your name and business, stranger." "Audacus", I answered curtly, devoid of respect. "I seek an audience with your king." The second guard leaned into the first, whispering, "That's the rogue king. The fallen one." "I haven't fallen," I snarled. "I've just switched sides. Now move, or I'll tear your fur off in clumps." They exchanged a glance, then gestured me through the mountain pass. It took them twenty minutes to lead me to the heart of the kingdom—a rock fortress cut into the cliffs, where the roars of training warriors echoed l

CIARAThe air in the Victorian cottage always felt coldest right before dawn.I woke up with the smell of woodsmoke and Mathew’s skin still clinging to my hair, but the couch beside me was empty. I sat up, the cashmere robe sliding loosely over my bare shoulders. My body ached with a deep, throbbing soreness—a physical reminder of the unyielding, heavy rhythm Mathew had used to drive the outside world out of my head. For a few hours on that brick hearth, the silver medical bracelets and the blurred faces in the Mayfair corridors hadn't mattered. There was only the friction of his skin, the gravelly break in his voice, and the absolute certainty that whoever I had been before the crash, I had belonged to him.Then I saw him.Mathew was sitting at the small wooden desk in the far corner focussed on his laptop. He hadn't dressed; he was just in his dark sweatpants, his broad back hunched forward, his shoulders rigid like a statue carved from granite. He was so still he didn't even seem

MATHEWThe safehouse in Richmond didn’t look like a fortress from the outside. It was a low, Victorian cottage wrapped in thick ivy, hidden at the end of a long, private lane that bled into the dark expanses of Richmond Park. But beneath the brick and the slate, Louis’s security team had turned it into a digital cage. The perimeter was lined with high-frequency infrared sensors, and the windows were reinforced with ballistic laminate that rattled softly against the relentless onslaught of the midnight storm.Upstairs, Adam was fast asleep, tucked into a small bedroom with a security guard stationed right outside his door.Downstairs, the silence was suffocating.I sat on the worn leather sofa in front of the brick fireplace, a glass of neat Scotch resting between my thighs. Patient Two.The ghost in our heads wasn't a corporate spy. It wasn't a disgruntled uncle or a bitter ex. It was someone who knew our blood types, our medical histories, and the exact coordinates of our lives befo

CIARAI'm sat in a meeting with my staff where I am completely lost in thought as I reflect on things while I feel the warm presence of Mathew in between my thighs even after hours.The private elevator bell chimed in the reception lobby. A few seconds later, the outer door opened, and a deep, familiar resonance cut through the sterile office hum."I'm here for the emergency co-parenting meeting with Ciara," Mathew’s voice was smooth, professional, and completely devoid of the gravelly roar he had used in the Shoreditch loft. "She is expecting me."My fingers tightened around the edge of my tablet.The double doors clicked open, and my temporary assistant cleared her throat. "Ms. Ciara? Mr. Mathew is here to see you.""Show him in," I said, "And close the doors behind you. We are not to be disturbed until I send for you."Mathew stepped into the room. He was wearing a dark charcoal overcoat that broad-shouldered his frame, the collar turned up against the London drizzle. He looked eve

MATHEW"Are you sure she's on her way to me?"The private elevator chime cut through the silence—a single, clean electronic note.The doors slid open directly into the loft. A sharp, rhythmic clicking echoed across the polished concrete floor—the unmistakable, lethal strike of high heels. I didn't drop the strip of linen tape I was unwrapping from my knuckles. I just watched her move past the minimalist kitchen, her silhouette cutting through the low ambient light.Ciara looked like a specter of vengeance in a dripping wet silk trench coat, her dark hair plastered to her neck by the storm. Her skin was pale, almost transparent, but her eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made the hair on my arms stand up."You didn't answer your phone," she said, her voice a low, dangerous vibration."I was cleaning up," I replied, my voice gravelly. I stood up slowly, my eyes dropping to her hands. She wasn't carrying a weapon, but her fingers were clenched into white-knuckled fists. "Louis

CIARA"My entire penthouse looks like a cartoon ground.""He's got your stubborn streak, you know," Carlista murmured, stepping up beside me and handing me a glass of champagne. She nodded toward the lawn, where Adam was aggressively defending his birthday cake from a French bulldog. "Look at him. He won't let anyone near that frosting."I let out a soft laugh, the tight knot in my chest loosening just a fraction. "He’s three, Carlista. He thinks he owns the world.""Well, he inherits it from you, so he’s not entirely wrong," she replied with a wink, before her eyes drifted toward the edge of the property. Her smile faltered. "Speaking of people who think they own things... look who just arrived."I followed her gaze. Walking through the white floral archway was Louis. He looked imposing even in a casual button-down shirt, his broad shoulders and hard posture completely at odds with the soft, festive atmosphere. He didn't have his usual easygoing expression. His eyes were scanning th

CIARA"I don't give a rats ass what uncle Ray thinks. I pay your salary so you listen to me. This is the last time I'm having this conversation...if I have to repeat myself then consider yourself fired." I slammed my phone down in irritation. "The Q3 distribution audits for the Horizon project are finalized, Ms. Ciara," my junior secretary, said as she stepped into my office. Her voice was steady, but I caught the slight tremor in her fingers as she set the leather-bound folder on my desk."Thank you, I said without looking up from my tablet. "Did you ensure the encryption keys for the digital masters were rotated this morning?""Yes, ma'am. First thing at eight o'clock.""Excellent. You can go."The door clicked shut behind her. I waited exactly thirty seconds. Then, I slid my reading glasses down my nose, closed the audit folder without looking at it, and turned on the secondary monitor hidden beneath the recess of my desk.On the screen, a real-time digital mirror of Liana's desk

REBELWeddings always have a strange way of cutting me open. Maybe it’s because they pull you between past and future—between the girl I once was and the mother I now am.Today, I sat in the front row, Daniel’s hand warm against mine, my sons Mex and Michael flanking Kezziah on her way down the aisle, and my mother—Carly—beside me, clutching my fingers so tightly it almost hurt. She had tears in her eyes already, though the ceremony hadn’t even begun.The church was beautiful, decorated with white lilies and roses, sunlight streaming through the tall stained-glass windows. Kezziah had wanted something simple but elegant, and somehow, this place had delivered both. My daughter… my only girl… was getting married today and not just to anyone. To Raul.The thought made my chest ache in ways I couldn’t quite name. Raul had been my friend, my brother in arms, my confidant for years. He had been there through battles, heartbreaks, and the weight of crowns and now, he was stepping into a new

KLAUS I’ve faced men with knives in their boots, guns tucked under their coats, eyes burning with the intent to kill. I’ve stared down death so many times that fear and I learned to live like old roommates but nothing could have prepared me for what I heard this morning.My only daughter.My Zilla.Involved… intimately… with the twins.With Mex and Michael—my godsons. My brother’s children in everything but blood.When Catya told me, her face pale as parchment, my stomach clenched so hard I thought I’d collapse. I wanted to storm out of the house, track the boys down, and remind them that while I’d raised them like my own, I was still very capable of breaking bones but Catya grabbed my arm and told me: Don’t you dare. We talk this out as a family.So here we are now.The sitting room feels like a battlefield. My heart is pounding, my jaw tight as stone. Zilla sits between the twins on the couch, her face calm but her hands twisting in her lap. Mex looks defensive already, arms folded

REBEL The house was so still I could hear my own heartbeat. Something was obviously wrong somewhere, and I felt it pressing in from all sides. I had barely cleared the dinner plates when my boys walked in with Kezziah trailing behind looking like her favourite puppy got snatched from her without her approval. Mex and Michael were in front, stiff-backed, their faces completely stoic. Kezziah’s small steps faltered as though she wanted to turn back immediately she got in. “Mom,” Mex said quietly, almost like he was afraid of his own words because they never call me mom except there's trouble. “We need to talk.” Michael gave a single nod, his eyes searching mine. That was when my stomach twisted—I knew this was indeed trouble. I folded my arms, steadying myself. “Alright. What’s going on?” Kezziah wouldn’t look at me. She shifted, nervous, eyes darting between her brothers and the floor. For a moment she looked so young, fragile, like the little girl who used to hide behind my l

KEZZIAH After he stormed out, I'd thought that would be the end, but it never stopped; for eight months we'd been secret lovers. Zilla, my best friend, is the only one who knows.I stared at the little plastic stick in my hand, my heart pounding like I had just sprinted a marathon. The small window on the stick showed a clear result, and I could already feel my life flashing before my eyes. This couldn’t be happening. This definitely couldn’t be happening.Pregnant.How the hell did I end up here?The truth, though? I wasn’t entirely surprised since we were like rabbits going at it every day, but I had convinced myself that this couldn't happen as it was just some weird, unattainable fantasy, the kind of thing that doesn’t happen to real people. The age difference, the fact that he had always been like a father figure to me... yeah, that was supposed to be a solid barrier, but then, one stupid night in a club, one too many drinks, one too many bad decisions, and—here we are.I had sp

RAULI no longer celebrated my birthdays, Twenty five was as much as I did after understanding that no matter the age difference Rebel would never love me and had someone who loved her more than anything else in life and she had a family who loved her more than anything but here I am at Forty-five, alone like never before. Hell, I did not even know why I paid attention to the damn age. Time didn't care, nor did I but the whiskey did, the club did as it still manages to comfort my grief.Happy fucking birthday to me. The whiskey was my companion this evening since I decided to avoid the company of Rebel and her family since it's embarrassing enough that every year I still remain single; each burn of whiskey I drank served as a reminder that I was alive, still a man that wanted to forget it all. One year past I found out I now had a desire for Kezziah-Rebel's only daughter with Daniel so I stayed away from the family to avoid being caught. I couldn’t stay in the same breathing space

DANIEL The air was clinical, but cold, I was used to this coldness now not because of the operating rooms, the sterile instruments, or the masked men who moved around like shadows but because the harsh reality of things had set in a long time ago. The world I had created for Rebel and our children, the life we created, was being torn apart, piece by piece, strand by strand, and it all started with Killian. The man who thought he could destroy us. The man who thought he could come in, take what didn't belong to him, and leave none the poorer. Today, I was going to make him remember exactly how wrong he'd been. I did not even need to go look for him. He had thought he was so clever, playing behind masks and alter egos but we had been one step ahead of him since the day that we learned he had survived. The moment Rebel and I were aware that he was still alive, we also knew that the danger was not wiped out but now in a different shape. Here he is, lying in some Parisian back-stree

CASSAIN "Shit..how do I survive everything at once today?""You can postpone the wedding you know?""No way. Do you want her to change her mind?""Ugh..if you weren’t both my parents I'd be concerned at your insane level of obsession with her but she is my mother so.."Game day. Wedding day. Somehow, the universe decided it was a great idea to cram both into the same twenty-four hours.I wake up before the sun. My muscles ache from practice yesterday, and my mind is buzzing with strategies, not just for the match but for the rest of the day—the ceremony, Evelessa’s face, her dress, the looks she’ll give me, the chaos inevitably waiting in the wings.The arena smells like leather, sweat, and anticipation.I take a deep breath, feeling the pulse of the crowd before I even step onto the field. My team is ready, eyes sharp, adrenaline primed. We all know what’s at stake—honor, pride, and yes, a wedding that’s waiting on the other side of victory.The whistle blows. The game starts.I mo

CASSAIN I have a rule when it comes to wedding preparations: keep it clean, precise, and dignified.Today, that rule is being tested.I’m in Maison D’Or, the finest tailor in the city, white marble floors, polished brass fixtures, mirrors everywhere you can see every angle of yourself, and soft classical music that whispers “wealth” without needing to shout it. I’ve been looking forward to this: the moment I finally choose the suit that will say to the world, I am marrying Evelessa, and yes, I own every second of this room.I’ve walked past racks of suits lined up like soldiers on parade, fabrics shining under the lights. My tailor, a man named François, has been hovering politely, making notes, asking questions. It’s perfect. Peaceful. Until my phone buzzes.I glance down.A text from one of my so-called “business partners,” the type of man who apparently thinks being rich also makes you creative in problem-solving.“Congrats on the engagement! Sending a little celebratory entertain

EVELESSA “I hate this already,” I mutter.“You haven’t even tried anything on,” Alexis replies, completely unbothered as she flips through a rack like she owns the place.“She’s right,” Aretha adds, sitting down dramatically like she’s about to watch a live performance.“I’m here for entertainment.”“You’re pregnant,” I remind her.“And?”“And you’re supposed to be supportive.”“I am supportive, you were the one who got screwed into saying yes so just deal with it” she says.“I'm here for the drama.”Of course she is.I pinch the bridge of my nose.“This was a mistake.”“No,” Seraphina says calmly.“This is necessary.”I turn to her.“Why?”“Because you are getting married.”“I’m aware.”“And you need a dress.”“I also own dresses.”“Not this kind.”“She’s right,” Lira chimes in softly, her hand resting protectively over her babies.“You deserve something special.”I glance at her.At the quiet glow in her eyes.At the softness she’s carrying now.And I sigh.Because fine.Fine.I ca

ALEXIS“Say that again.”I don’t look up.I don’t blink.I don’t even pause the line I’m writing.Because if I do I might actually laugh.Or worse—Engage.And I’m not in the mood.“I said,” the voice repeats, louder this time, “this room is needed.”Still not looking.Still writing.Still unimpressed.“By who?” I ask.Calm.Flat.Bored.There’s a pause.The kind that expects recognition.The kind that assumes importance.The kind that usually works on people who care.I don’t.“By me.”I sigh.Set my pen down.And then I look up.Finally.Slowly.Deliberately.Because if someone is going to interrupt my class—They should at least earn my attention.He’s… polished.Expensive suit.Perfect posture.Confidence that borders on arrogance—No.Not borders.Lives there.Breathes there.Owns property there.And judging by the way he’s standing?He thinks this room is already his.“How unfortunate,” I say.He blinks.Just once.Because that wasn’t the response he expected.“Excuse me?” he as

EVELESSA “Again from the top!” the choreographer calls.I don’t respond.I don’t need to.My body already knows.Already moves.Already follows.Because this?This is the one place I don’t have to think.No war.No shadows.No power plays.No expectations.Just movement.Just rhythm.Just me.My feet glide across the floor.Precise.Sharp.Controlled.Every turn intentional.Every step exact.Every breath timed.Because dance isn’t just art.It’s discipline.It’s control.That’s something I refuse to lose.“Evelessa!”I barely hear it.A distant echo.Irrelevant.The music swells—And I follow.Spin.Dip.Rise.Again.Again.Again.“Evelessa!”Louder this time.Closer.Still ignored.Because I’m not here.Not really.I’m somewhere else.Somewhere quieter.Somewhere simpler.Somewhere I don’t have to think about everything waiting for me outside these walls.The song ends.But I don’t.I keep moving.Because stopping?Means returning.Means remembering.Means feeling.And I’m not read

SERAPHINA The house has never felt like this before.Not even during war.Not even during loss.Not even when I hid my grandsons from things that wanted to devour them whole.This is different.Alive.Watching.Waiting.“She’s close,” I whisper.Michael looks up immediately.“How close?”I don’t answer right away.Because I’m listening.Not to sound.Not to movement.To something deeper.Something ancient.Something that doesn’t belong to this world yet, it is forcing its way into it.“Now,” I say.And everything changes.The walls pulse.Not crack.Not break.Pulse.Like the house itself has a heartbeat.And it’s syncing with hers.With Lira’s.With the child.“Everyone in position,” I command.No hesitation.No questions.Because when I sound like this isn’t practice.This isn’t caution.This is survival.Aristotle is already there.At her side.Of course he is.His hand wrapped around hers tightly, steady and unyielding.“Stay with me,” he murmurs.Lira doesn’t answer.She can’t.