Crave: A Collection Of Wicked Desires

Tinsel shimmered in the dim light, the golden strands hanging from the pine garlands that lined the room. They cast soft glows on the polished wood of Santa’s desk, where a single red folder sat, the word “Naughty” stamped on the front in bold, red letters. Evie stared at it, swallowing hard as heat crept up her neck. This wasn’t how she’d expected her night to go. When she’d clocked into her shift at the workshop earlier, she’d thought the worst she’d deal with was the endless screech of the conveyor belts and the headache-inducing jingle that played on repeat. But somehow, she’d been careless—again—and now she was standing here, in his office. Santa’s office. Her hands clenched at her sides, her fingers twitching with a mix of nerves and excitement. She should be terrified. Santa wasn’t the rosy-cheeked grandfather that kids imagined. Not up close, anyway. No, he was commanding. Dangerous. And when he looked at her with those dark, knowing eyes, she couldn’t decide whether she

I didn’t even like books. Maybe that should’ve been my first clue. But after getting dumped by my ex—over text, mind you—I needed something, anything, to take my mind off it. That’s how I found myself in this dimly lit club, clutching a glossy pamphlet I barely skimmed before showing up. The Book Club: Where Your Desires Come Alive. Corny as hell, but desperate times, right? The girl at the front desk asked if I wanted the VIP experience. I nodded without a second thought, eager to drown out the sting of rejection with something new. Maybe there’d be wine and sappy romance novels. Maybe I’d leave laughing at how ridiculous it all was. I couldn’t have been more wrong. A deep bass thrummed through the walls as I stepped inside the VIP room, my heels clicking against the polished floor. The scent of leather and something musky hung in the air, making my pulse quicken. I blinked, adjusting to the low, amber lighting—and that’s when I saw it. Not rows of people sipping

Calla’s POV The circle was drawn in blood. Not mine. I used the heart of a goat, sliced it open, and watched the steaming red spill onto the cold stone floor. The smoke rising from the symbols shimmered like oil, slick and hungry. Every flicker of candlelight danced with anticipation, the air tightening like a stretched string ready to snap. They told me never to summon Rhaziel. They said he was primal. Insatiable. That the last witch who tried ended up on her knees for three days, screaming into the dark, unable to speak her own name afterward. But I didn’t come here to be safe. I came to make a deal—and I knew exactly what kind of deal Rhaziel made. “Come to me, Rhaziel,” I whispered, my voice low in the room. “By the seal of flesh, by the bond of blood, by the craving of lust—I summon you.” The flames blew out at once, every single one. Silence. Then— A deep, guttural growl rumbled through the room, like thunder crashing inside my chest. The kind of sound tha

The forest was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, a natural cloak that hid everything beneath its shadows. But I wasn’t looking for the trees, or even the smell of the rain-soaked underbrush. No, I was focused on one thing: my target. The one who dared step into my territory. Or at least, that was the plan. I’d been hunting him for days, tracking every scent, every footprint. He was fast. Strong. And from the way his scent lingered on the wind—mixing with the musk of wild animal and the metallic tang of blood—he knew he was being followed. But he didn’t know who was following him. I moved silently through the brush, my muscles coiling with every step. My men had warned me about the Alpha who was trespassing on our land, but it wasn’t the usual territory dispute. No, this one was personal. We both had the same quarry, and for reasons I still didn’t understand, I couldn’t let him claim it first. His scent was getting stronger, sharper. He was near. I grinned to my

He didn’t move for a while. Just lay there in the dirt, chest heaving, muscles twitching with aftershocks. His back was streaked with sweat and dust, marked by me—my teeth, my hands, my cock. He hadn’t shifted since I’d finished inside him, and that said everything. I was still buried deep, watching the rise and fall of his shoulders beneath me. I hadn’t pulled out. Didn’t want to. My knot hadn’t fully formed, but I’d sunk so deep, our bodies were still locked. Fused. And if I shifted a little, I could feel him twitch—just enough to know he was still with me. “You gonna bite me again?” he rasped finally. I leaned down, brushing my lips over the fresh mark on his shoulder. “Would you stop me if I did?” His answer came in the form of a low grunt, followed by a slow push back of his hips—just enough to make my cock throb inside him. I grinned. “Didn’t think so.” Still, I didn’t move to fuck him again. Not yet. I pressed my palm to the back of his neck, grounding him, keepin