The Bone Season

One night a young boy unable to cultivate falls into a cave and changes his destiny forever. Orphaned, unable to cultivate, ridiculed by all, the boy who fought with bones has a bone to pick with all those who wronged him and a mystery to uncover.

Kane Harlan rules the ice with raw power and a reputation for breaking bones. But when a vicious hit during a championship game triggers something impossible in front of his team captain, Elias Voss, everything unravels. Kane is a werewolf living among humans, bound by ancient laws that demand death for any exposure. Now Elias knows the truth, and instead of fear, an unbreakable pull draws them together. As deadly hunters close in and the wolf world threatens to erase them both, Kane and Elias must fight for survival on the ice and off it. In a world of roaring crowds, hidden fangs, and forbidden desire, one wrong move means losing everything.

War is coming, and this time it is more than personal. For generations, the Stormborn lineage has carried one story like a scar, the former Draconis destroyed their empire and left their bloodline in ruins. The Red Alpha grew up on that story. He was raised on it. Fed with it. Every lesson, every battle, every scar carved one belief into him, when the Draconis rises again, it must be put to death. But fate has a cruel sense of humor. Because the new Draconis is Lyra. She doesn’t fully understand what she is yet. She only knows she’s being hunted. Villages are being wiped out. Borders are closing. The wolf clan are preparing for open war. The vampire council is divided, each elder with their own hidden agenda. And somewhere deep within the forbidden forests lies a power that could either protect her or expose her. The Red Alpha knows more than he admits. He knows what the last Draconis did. He knows secrets about Lyra’s blood that even she doesn’t know. And he is not just preparing for battle. He is preparing revenge. As the Blood Eclipse approaches, alliances will begin to crack, previous betrayals will surface again, and the truth about the former Draconis will threaten everything. Because this isn’t just history repeating itself. This is unfinished hatred. And when Lyra finally steps into the fire, the world will learn whether she is their salvation... Or the final mistake.

In Black Salt, love is a sickness you can’t hide—a slow gnawing beneath the skin that leaves you hollowed, grayed, and eventually gone. No one stays long enough to see it through; they leave before the rot finishes its work. It’s what the town teaches you: when it starts, you run. You look away. You survive by pretending not to feel. But Atlas is tired of pretending. The halls of Black Salt High are full of kids pretending they don’t see each other’s bruised hearts, pretending their bones aren’t already whispering warnings. Still, he can’t forget the weight of a father who stayed—not out of love, but because he never felt it deep enough to decay. That truth lingers in Atlas like a second shadow. And then there’s Nova—the outsider with a storm in her bones. And Wren, all sharpness and fight. Milo, who cracks jokes to keep the silence at bay. Luce, who wears her thorns like jewelry. Together, they don’t know how to stop the rot. But they’re learning how to sit with it, how to name it, how to refuse the small, hollow deaths of pretending not to care. In a town where love is a death sentence, staying might be the bravest thing of all.

"He thought she was a pretty cage. She was the lock, the key, and the woman who'd burned the whole prison down."

Julian Ashford, the golden boy of the city's elite, had his left leg broken by his father with a golf club -- all because of me, a scholarship student. He was stripped of his billion-dollar inheritance and cast out of the family. For three years, he dragged that ruined leg around an auto repair shop, doing backbreaking labor just to scrape together enough for my college tuition. Everyone said I was the luckiest girl alive -- that I'd brought the untouchable heir of a financial empire to his knees, made him willing to live on scraps in the worst part of town. Today was our three-year anniversary. I was carrying the freshly signed Holloway Group inheritance confirmation documents, ready to finally tell him my real identity and pull him out of this misery. I walked down the corridor of The Grand Pavilion, holding a box of vanilla shortbread -- his favorite. Through the half-open door of a private suite, Julian Ashford stood tall on two perfectly healthy legs, dressed in an immaculate tailored suit, sliding a rare pink diamond ring onto the finger of Victoria Sterling -- the city's most celebrated socialite. "Victoria, I used that scholarship girl as a shield to survive three years of my old man's relentless arranged marriage schemes. My body's completely untouched. You've always been the one I was going to marry." I looked down at my own hands, cracked and raw from the cold, and tore the inheritance documents to shreds.