Aly Sloan Novels & Stories

She opened a fresh notebook and began sketching her cover: Name: Sloane March Occupation: Behavioral consultant for high-performance executives Background: Stanford MBA, boutique firm in Tribeca Personality: Confident, curious, emotionally intelligent Hook: She’d “accidentally” cross paths with Julian at a private tech roundtable in SoHo—an event she’d already arranged to be invited to. She’d need to study his work, his language, his rhythms. She’d need to become someone he couldn’t resist—not because she was beautiful, but because she was a mirror. Someone who understood him. Reflected him. Challenged him.

Saturday. At the salon for our hair appointment... Eight days before midterm. Sloane and I were seated side by side at Soleil Luxe, a high-end salon nestled along the Wilshire strip, draped in matching black capes and sipping on cucumber-infused water like it was champagne. The place smelled like coconut oil and honey. “I swear,” Sloane muttered, scrolling through her phone, “if I see one more group project pop up in my email before midterms, I’m going to fake an emotional breakdown. I’ll cry. Ugly cry.”

His focus on the flames as they crackled and waved. “The Luna has arrived,” Odis announced. The young man turned around has dark skin and his black hair is puffy and wild. A firm strong jawline, thin lips, and sharp prominent nose. The most surprising thing is his eyes, brown eyes with a white cloud over them. The doctor is blind. “Good afternoon, Luna. My name is James Sylvester. It’s a pleasure and an honor to meet you,” the doctor said. “A pleasure to meet you. You seem quite…”

I say. “I understand what you mean. Sloane doesn’t have many friends. Well, pretty much, you’re looking at all her friends right now. But she, at least, has Bethany and Scarlet nearby. Stephanie doesn’t. Are there no Alpha females in the south that she’s friends with?” Benedict asks.

If Sloane was being honest, she'd always been a little intimidated by women like Alyssa Berry - beautiful women who never seemed to have a hair out of place or a wrinkle in their clothes. Women who knew how to command men with the flash of a smile or a practiced giggle. It was some sort of sorcery that Sloane had never understood, and there was a time in her life she would have given anything to know its secrets. Women like Alyssa felt like an entirely different species.

I extended a hand to him, and shaking my hand, he smirked at me, watching as Natasha took a step back. “Alpha Nathan Kozlov. You really are a man of business. I can see that your place seems to bring in more people with each passing day” he said, looking at Natasha who bit her bottom lip as she smiled. I knew that it disgusted her to act this way, but she also knew her job and duty well, and it was one of the main reasons why she was the ONLY one qualified for this job and no one else.

I said, propping my laptop over my knees and opening the file containing Finn’s mismanaged portfolio data. "He will have no other choice than to grant me exactly what I demand." "I hold you to your words then," Knox said, pausing momentarily. His voice dropped an octave, turning thick with sudden curiosity. "What changed, Sloane?" "About me?" "Yes," he responded quickly, the sound of him pouring a fresh glass of bourbon echoing softly over the line. "Five years ago, at the annual gala, I offered to bring you directly into the executive tier of Hartley Global. You threw that offer right back at my face.

“And oh, include the level of your shadow and the type.” Z’s eyes widened. She stared at Sloane with disbelief, as though she’d gone mad, as though she’s a talking corpse. She could lie, of course. However, she knew very well that’d be a risky business. What if they asked for proof of her statement? What if they demand to see her shadow? She closed her eyes, biting her lips so hard. ‘This is such a mess!’ “Right! I’ll go first.” Sloane smirked. “I know you’ve heard of me, but I’ll introduce myself for formality. The name’s Sloane. I’m a fifteen-year-old powerful and intimidating Shadowest from Beththorphe Empire.”

“We… ah… we were discussing the northern border patrol, Alpha. Whether you wanted to increase the number of sentries or leave it as it is. You know, with everything going on with the new bride within… there are a lot of enemies that might want to conspire. We still do not know who she is and how she is coping with things and as you've seen, she's not very welcome amongst the pack members.” I leaned back, crossing my arms. “Increase them by three. Rotate them every six hours. As for her being welcome amongst the pack members, that is not a choice that they have. She is my wife and their Luna and by far meaning that they would have to respect her whether or not they like it a stranger or not,

Roman and I are ushered toward the back of the administration building, our steps echoing against the stone. Professor Sloane slips into command as naturally as breathing. She doesn’t need to raise her voice—just a sharp flick of her gaze sends four more guards racing into the forest to recover the bodies we left behind. Her presence is magnetic, the kind that pulls people into order without effort. Regardless of if she’s in a baggy hoodie, joggers and a baseball cap.