Candle Cove Skin Taker

After going bankrupt, I do the unthinkable for my gravely ill younger brother, Ricky Ashford, and climb into the bed of Damien Blackwood, the notorious mafia boss. When his smoldering gaze sweeps over my shirtless body, I stay perfectly still. The reason is that I'm afraid to set off this infamous man in front of me. However, the next instant, his lips are everywhere on my skin, and the night dissolves into a wild, reckless blur. For three years, I endure every torment in his bed. Thoughts of escape and even suicide cross my mind, but the fact that my brother is fighting for his life in the ICU keeps me going. One day, I accidentally overhear him speaking with his childhood friend, Chloe Sterling. "How long do you plan to toy with your enemy's daughter? You're not falling for her, are you?" "Don't be absurd." "And what about her sickly brother?" "He died long ago." The last thread holding me together snaps. Now, there is no reason left to live. As I prepare to end my life by burning charcoal, tears well up in his eyes as he pleads for me not to leave.

17 was the year everything shattered. My parents divorced. My lover cheated. My best friend deceived me. Now, all I want is to survive senior year in silence. But silence isn’t possible when your skin suddenly glows with weird runes, the world freezes in arithmetic class, and a recruiter pulls you to The Obsidian Academy school for monsters that shouldn’t exist. I don’t know what I am. But the boys here… they appear determined to find out: A storm-eyed werewolf who saves me but swears I’ll ruin him. A vampire prince who says my blood is his alone. A dragon boy who nearly burns me alive protecting me. A sinfully hot professor who stares at me like I broke his heart in another life. I came here hoping for answers. Instead, I’ve unearthed a curse older than the Academy itself, one that binds me to them in ways I can’t fight. And when passion becomes deadly, treachery bleeds deeper than love. I thought I was human. But the monsters aren’t my foes. The true risk is what I’m becoming.

Buried deep in the Aster estate was the Heartwood—ancient, sacred, mine. Told my husband, Julian Aster—back when he actually listened—that if it ever fell, I'd die with it. At first, he freaked out. Flew in glacier water, hired a whole squad of plant experts to nurture it 24/7. Then one day, just because his childhood friend—Isabella Duvall—got a scratch from the bark, Julian had the Heartwood ripped out. The second it crashed, I choked on glowing blood—ichor. My power? Gone. Barely standing, I grabbed his arm. "You knew. If the Heartwood dies, I—" He laughed. Straight-up mocked me. "Sera, come on. That fairy tale? Only Grandma still believes that crap. Is that mayo on your mouth? Relax—it's a tree. I'll buy you a forest if you want." Overnight, my hair turned gray. Skin cracked. Eyes dulled. Still, I dragged myself to his grandmother, Henrietta. "I kept your family safe for two hundred years. That's why the Asters thrived. But the Heartwood's gone. Debt's paid. One day left. Whatever happens next? Not my problem."

In a world slowly being erased, the quiet is the killer. Ethan Ashworth’s life ended the day the Silence touched him, leaving a smooth, numb patch on his skin and a ghost where his memories used to be. He is one of the Marked—doomed to be hollowed out, unless the hunters of Die Jägerfind him first. His only hope is the Library, a secret sanctuary for those the Silence hasn’t yet consumed. There, he meets Lorenzo Cavalli, a former soldier marked not by emptiness, but by a rage that refuses to be silenced. Their connection is immediate, volatile, and unwanted—a psychic bond forged in shared terror that screams against the quiet. It’s also the one thing the all-consuming Silence cannot stomach. Their bond isn't just a link; it’s a weapon. A wrong note in a world demanding perfect silence. On the run from relentless hunters and a creeping nothingness that eats sound, memory, and soul, Ethan and Lorenzo discover a terrible truth: the Silence isn't random. It's a hunger. And it’s gathering, preparing to swallow the world whole. Their only chance is to turn their unwanted connection into a blade, and walk into the heart of the consuming quiet. To kill a god of silence, you don’t fight with a shout. You fight with a scream that is also a love song.

"Tell me you don't want this, Vivianne..." Noah's breath warmed against my skin, his finger dragging against my aching clit, and his eyes locked on me. "I'll stop if you tell me to..." My waist arch, a soft moan slipping off my lips as he pushed two fingers inside me, a smirk curling at his lips. I should push him away... I should curse him, but I couldn't. My body betrayed me. I wanted him, I hated to admit it. How could my body want the same man who ruined my life? "No... Noah..." My breath stuttered, nails digging into the bed as desire washed over me. "Do... don't... touch... argh! Right ther...e... Fuck! Please don't stop..." "Where, V... Tell me where you want me to touch." He fingers moved inside me, teasing my inside. "Ri...right there... Fuck!" My hips jerked up, pussy throbbing with pleasure, walls tightening on his fingers... right before my orgasm tore through me...

"So you admit to seducing me?" Elijah whispered against my neck. He snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me closer. His soft lips brushed against my neck, goosebumps began to coat my skin. I screwed my eyes shut and bit my lip. I sucked in a breath when his tongue touched my hot skin, slowly he caressed his tongue along my jawline then gently bit my earlobe. "Elijah." I moaned softly. "Yes." He responded in his deep soothing voice. "You're fiancé is outside." I replied, as I held his shoulders for balance. "She can wait." - 24-year-old Josephine, a carefree and creative woman who owns one of the best studios in New York. 27-year-old Elijah, stubborn but loving man. One of the best photographers in America engaged to a well known model. A secret affair occurs between them both as time passes they realise that they can't get enough of each other and there's a risk that one of them might catch feelings. Will they both come to the realization and end it or continue to fulfill their desires therefore the whole situation can be an endangerment to their careers?

“You should’ve stayed gone,” Damon growled, his claws flexing. “Whatever you’ve become, it doesn’t change the fact you were never meant to lead.” Kael smiled, slow and cruel, the glow of runes dancing beneath his skin. “And you were never meant to rule.” _ In the ruthless world of wolves, Kael was born with skin that marked him as different — cursed, whispered some, forgotten by the Moon, said others. Discriminated against and dismissed by his own pack, Kael's only ally was Damon, the wolf he helped rise to Alpha. But power changes wolves. Betrayed, humiliated, and cast out, Kael disappears into the wilds, where death was meant to claim him. Instead, a prophecy found him. With a heritage rooted in ancient magic and bloodlines long thought extinct, Kael is reborn as something new, something dangerous. When he returns, stronger and stranger than any wolf alive, the very pack that rejected him will be forced to kneel… or burn. But fate isn’t done with Kael yet. His greatest enemy still wants him close—and someone new may hold the key to his heart. The only problem? Kael was never meant to belong to anyone.

I'm a major suspect in the in-law murder case in Nexford. My husband, Roland Turner, also known as the police chief, personally arrests me. During my trial, the murderer commits yet another murder. The latest victims are killed once again using the same brutal method. Roland kneels on the floor while begging me to tell him the truth. I answer him that I have no idea what it is. At the same time, the victims' families keep screaming at me, wanting to skin me alive for my crimes. Three months later, Roland brings a Memory Decryptor with him. He finds me near a pile of trash. With trembling hands, he pierces two thin needles through my temples. "I'm so sorry, Wendy. I know you're not the murderer, but I just want this slaughterfest to end. I don't want to see anyone else die again. "We can also use this chance to show your memories to everyone. That way, we can find out what the actual truth is." But once he views my memories, he suffers from an emotional breakdown and sinks to his knees.

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.

She was moving closer in a suggestive manner, and it was obvious she was flirting. She asked, "What are you doing?" I replied, "Making you uncomfortable." It was clear that I was succeeding. I took a step back and asked, "What's happening? I just told you I hate you." "Yes, you did," she said, her fingers reaching out and grabbing my shirt, stopping me from backing away. "And that you want me, like I said when I arrived, even though you pretended you didn't hear me." "I'm confused," I responded. "It's simple," she replied, as she began unbuttoning my shirt. Her lips approached my ear and I could feel them on my skin as she whispered, "There are two things I want from a man. The first one is to be worshipped like a goddess." I shrugged the shirt off my shoulders and let her get to work on my belt as I went to work on her shorts. Pink panties. Bright pink. As pink as the thing inside them. "And the second one?" *** Read the filthy story between a teacher and his mischievous students as they attempt to entice him.