Vim Marker

Silverclaw and Blackstone had been bound by a sacred blood alliance for three generations. I was the rightful heir to the Silverclaw pack, and Elara was my cousin, of lesser blood and no rank. On my bonding ceremony, Elara spiked my wine. While I was unconscious, she donned a counterfeit of my Moon-Blessed Robes and slept with Elias that night. I found them together at dawn. Though he offered me anything to appease my fury, I forced a sterility potion down Elara’s throat, paid her off with a hundred thousand dollars, and banished her from Silverclaw territory. For ten years, I waded through blood to secure Elias’s rise to the Alpha throne. Yet at his coronation, he claimed the Luna’s Crown and Sacred Robes meant for me. He led pack warriors to a southern cabin where, upon confirming Elara’s death, he seized my throat. His claws tore into my flesh as he raged over her corpse. He threw me and my unborn child off the cliff. He held the marker stone at her cairn and whispered of revenge for his true love. I woke up on my bonding ceremony. Elias had been reborn too, expecting me to grovel at his paws. He was wrong. This time, I would never be his Luna. The throne, the pack, and the bond. Every last scrap of it would return to its rightful owner.

Everyone knew Elio Carbone, Don of the Carbone family, was a cold-hearted womanizer. He had one rule: never sleep with the same woman twice. But for me, he broke it. The first day after our breakup, he stood outside the old Bianchi estate for a day and a night, his entire security detail in tow, just to win me back. The second day, he flew to Sicily and bought the deed to my family's ancestral estate at auction for triple its value, and had it delivered to me. The third day, he tattooed my favorite flower, the lily, over his heart. The tattoo artist said he refused any anesthetic and didn't make a sound. Later, at a banquet for the Five Families, in front of all the other Dons, he sliced his palm and made a blood oath. He swore loyalty only to Eleonora Bianchi for the rest of his life; if he broke his vow, he would pay with his life. After a year of his relentless pursuit, his devotion finally wore me down, and I agreed to take him back. I truly believed him then. That Elio truly loved me. Until one night. He took me to an underground racetrack to broker a deal with an ally. But in the roaring crowd, I saw a girl, trembling and crying, her clothes in tatters. Ava was shoved to the starting line. She was the wager for the death race. One look was all it took for Elio's face to darken. The next second, he dropped his hand from my waist and, without a word, walked toward the track entrance. I stood frozen, watching his back as he disappeared into the driver's seat of a modified sports car. I used to wake up crying, terrified he would lose his life in one of these reckless races. He had smashed his trophies, burned his marker for the illegal track, and sworn to God he would never again enter such a life-or-death gamble. My hand drifted to my stomach, covering the secret I hadn't yet had the chance to share. His blood oath was broken. And so was I.

"This is a notice regarding proper use of the air conditioning. Please sign to acknowledge receipt." My six-year-old son stood there with a stern little frown, slapping a sheet of paper down in front of me. I glanced at the page. Written in colorful marker were several neatly listed "charges." The whole thing felt absurd. When I did not respond, he pointed at the paper like a tiny adult. "Mom, you didn't turn the air down in time yesterday. That could've affected my health. It was very irresponsible." I looked toward my husband, who had just gotten home from work, hoping he would say something, anything, in my defense. Instead, he snatched up the paper and slapped it down on the table, his voice sharp. "Can't you be more attentive? Our son's health comes first. If you can't even handle something this simple, what kind of mother are you?" With someone backing him up, our son's eyes immediately reddened. He burst into tears. "Mom doesn't love me!" The two of them, playing judge and jury, left me suddenly breathless. "Fine," I said at last. "If I'm such an unfit mother, I'll leave. Let your father find you a new one, someone who knows how to set the air conditioning properly."

Warning: This is not your regular love story. This is a collection of explicitly sinful acts. Confession, forbidden deeds, Raw, vivid. DON’T READ IN PUBLIC. Unless… you enjoy the risk of being caught. It isn’t just a book. It’s an experience that will make your body burn. Every story in this book is fast, wild, and full of heat. Bold women take what they want. Dominant men fight their urges. Every touch, every look, every whispered word will make you crave more. As you read, your heart will race. Your body will react before your mind can catch up. You’ll gasp, shiver, and ache for pleasure. Each story is written to make you move your hand as you read, to feel every word. We have it all—MF, MM, FF, MFM, FFM, MMMF, and everything in between. Every fantasy you can imagine. Every kind of desire. Every risky mix of heat. The thrill of being caught. The rush of secret wants. The pull of power and lust. It’s all here. You’ll imagine being there, feeling every touch, every kiss, every deep push. No holding back. No rules. Just raw, hot desire. Your eyes read the words. Your hand follows your body’s needs. You’ll touch yourself, tremble, and feel the heat grow. By the last page, you’ll be breathing fast, shaking, and wanting more. And the stories won’t leave your mind. They’ll stay with you, making you ache for the next word, the next touch, the next release. This isn’t just reading. It’s indulgence. One hand holds the phone. The other? That’s up to you. Are you ready to give in?

Nicole Stanton, the richest young woman in the world, showed up low profile at the airport but she was immediately swarmed by reporters.Reporter: “Ms. Stanton, why did your three-year marriage with Mr. Ferguson come to an end?”She smiled and said, “Because I have to inherit my billion-dollar family fortune…”Reporter: “Are the rumors that you’ve been dating a dozen other young men within a month true?”Before the billionaire heiress could speak, an icy voice came from not far away. “No, that’s fake news.”Eric Ferguson stood out in the crowd. “I also have a billion-dollar net worth. Ms. Stanton, why don’t you inherit my family fortune?”

Aurora Walton once made a bet with her mother—if Joseph Hunt ever fell in love with her, her mother would step aside and let them be together. So, upon learning that Joseph preferred gentle and resilient girls, she disguised herself as a struggling college student to get close to him. But in the end, Joseph crushed her illusions, holding his first love in his arms as he looked at Aurora with disdain. "A gold-digging nobody like you? How could you ever compare to Judy?" Humiliated and heartbroken, Aurora walked away, returning home to claim her rightful place as heiress to a billion-dollar empire. Years later, she returned, draped in a custom-made designer gown worth million, exuding elegance and power. Beside her stood a man whispered to be untouchable, feared, and revered. As she crossed paths with Joseph once more, the tables had turned. This time, it was Joseph who was left in regret. He took to social media with a public confession: "I used to think I loved strong, one-of-a-kind women. But Aurora, meeting you made me realize that love isn’t about rules. You are my exception." That very night, the elusive Lucas Carter broke his silence, releasing a long-cherished photograph. In it, a girl smiled brightly, untamed and full of life. With absolute certainty, he took Aurora’s hand and made his declaration for the world to hear. "Mrs. Carter, there are no exceptions. You've always been the one. And I've been waiting for this moment my whole life."