Adult Thriller Books Novels & Stories

Again, this is book one in the series The Blessed Ones. If you’re a fan of spicy romances with alpha males and basically anything Mafia-related, go for PRECARIOUS: THE GAME OF HEARTS, which is the first in the Castello Di Carte Mafia Chronicles. This would be my best work and I’m currently working on publishing this book digitally by the end of next year. Fingers crossed. I’m currently writing book 2 of the series and let me warn you, this series is super hot and suspenseful. Anyway, if you want to keep updated with my works, you can follow me on I* at author_shreyasengupta .

If you enjoyed this book, I’m sure you’ll also like the following titles: Wind Chill by Patrick Rutigliano—What if you were held captive by your own family? Emma Rawlins has spent the last year a prisoner. The months following her mother’s death dragged her father into a paranoid spiral of conspiracy theories and doomsday premonitions. But there is a force far colder than the freezing drifts. Ancient, ravenous, it knows no mercy. And it’s already had a taste . . .

His head was buried in a thick novel, but at her sight, he instantly hid the novel behind—a novel an 11-year-old boy shouldn't be reading. It was r rated, not because it was erotica or anything. But because it was a disturbing psychopath thriller book with torture and the deaths of people written in detail. It revolves around a psychopath who derives pleasure from torturing his fellow humans’ beings. He killed for fun on days he was tired, raped both women and men on days he felt sexually excited, and kidnapped human beings then cut their bodies piece by piece until they bled to death. Recording all his evil deeds and posting them for the whole world to see. But don’t worry, there was a hero

And I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I’d been attacked by Donatello’s men. I shot him almost three years ago. I’d pulled seven bullets into him and watched him fall to the ground—dead. Why was I still being targeted? Attacked? Followed? Realization sank into my mind… They had waited for me to get back to Willow Creek. Just to kill me. My head rested against the car seat as the driver drove to my new apartment. I needed protection—and Matteo was all I had. Staring at my fingers, they hadn’t stopped trembling. I kept replaying the moment I pulled the trigger.

Vanilla bean perfume floods my senses, leaving me greedy for more. “Watch them.” My voice is gentle, but it’s not a request. Her attention flicks to the writhing bodies around us—fucking, sweating, getting off. Hunter—a fellow billionaire and, if I had such things, a friend—catches Sandra’s gaze. He grips the back of a girl’s head, shoving his cock deep into her throat. A choked sound escapes the woman as Sandra shivers in my arms, eyes locked on them. “Who is she?” Wrong question. She should be asking who he is. Hunter isn’t a man to be trifled with, and the way he’s looking at her tells me she’s not safe from his desires.

Matteo sighed. “Do you know Durant Ivanov?” “Ivanov. Yes, I do.” “His men have been wreaking havoc in New York. Vitale’s men found the warehouse with all those trafficked girls and women.” I jumped in relief. “That’s great news, right?” Neither Matteo nor Dante responded. “They found those girls dead, all twenty-three of them, cut to pieces, Bella,” Ros said, walking in from the garden. My jaw dropped and my eyes widened. What the actual fuck? “This is why everyone hates the Bratva so much. They don’t take revenge lightly.”

Frustrated, I set it aside and stepped out of my room for a walk to clear my head. As I strolled the halls, I noticed a group of soldiers carrying crates filled with books. “Wait,” I called out, stopping them. They froze and turned to me. The scent hit me before I even reached the boxes—Colt’s scent. My monster brother’s lingering essence clung to the books like a haunting memory. “Where are these from?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as I reached for one of the books. “From Raven’s old base,” one soldier answered with a respectful nod.

I didn’t care how he clawed his way out; I cared about one thing: answers. The photograph of Allison burnt in my pocket like a brand, the memory of its haunting details as sharp as a blade. Her face, so delicate and pure, didn’t belong in the pocket of a dead man—a thief who thought he could cross the Blade family. And that "11-11," marked on the back with an ominous X? That wasn’t just a coincidence. That was a threat. And threats against Allison? Those were punishable by death.

I crawled closer to Nathan, reaching out with trembling hands to check if he was still breathing. His chest was rising and falling normally now. The feverish heat had faded from his skin. He looked peaceful, almost like he was just sleeping. "Nathan?" I whispered, placing my hand on his shoulder. "Can you hear me?" His eyelids fluttered. Then, slowly, they opened. I gasped and jerked backward. Nathan's eyes were glowing silver. Not his usual dark gray, but actual silver light that seemed to shine from within. It was beautiful and terrifying all at once.

I didn’t want to want him this much. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. But it was. In the silence between us, filled only with ragged breaths and the pulse of need, the world outside seemed to fade away. The danger, the bombs, the lies—it all disappeared. All that was left was him. And I was falling, deeper into the darkness, unable to stop myself. And I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to. 1 AQSA The smell of smoke and burning metal clung to the air as I stepped over the debris.