Cartoon Cat Mouse Novels & Stories

Leah is back on the family farm in Mozambique, where she meets doctor Sergio Martinez whom she immediately feels attracted to. But Leah is certainly not happy to see that her ex-husband Ralph is also back here. Apparently to complete the dream eco-holiday destination he originally planned, when they were married to each other. What is really uncomfortable is the fact that he wants her back as his wife. He still wants to make a baby with her! Leah acquired a little bit of money after selling her grandmother's house in Pretoria. And Ralph knows about it. He is a dangerous man if he believes there is money somewhere that he can get his hands on. But for some or another reason, Ralph Jameson suddenly has money of his own as well. Did he inherit it from the much older deceased woman he briefly married, after divorcing Leah? Or did he steal it from her while she was still alive? Sergio Martinez is happy with the card life dealt him. He is a veterinarian working for an international company dealing with the relocation and breeding of wild animals for National Parks all over Africa. The lion project, wildlife sanctuary and hospital for injured animals is on a farm neighboring Hurters Retreat. He rents a flat from John Hurter, as he got himself a pet now, an African Wild cat. Gato needs to be kept away from the vet's patients and other threats in the bush. Hurters Retreat felt like a safe haven for his cat and his heart. But suddenly he is not that sure anymore. Why does it feel as if Leah was the woman he waited for all his life. And why did her ex-husband follow her there? Is this the day trouble started in his paradise?

So here's the thing about being adopted by a junkie sex worker: you learn real fast that nobody's coming to save you, and the world doesn't give a shit about your potential. I got out and got a scholarship to some fancy boarding school where rich kids pretend they're better than you because their parents bought their way in instead of fucking their way through. Silvercrest Academy; prestigious, elite and completely fucking weird. Like, weird enough that my roommate has fangs and my lab partner's eyes glow in the dark and the three hottest guys on campus won't leave me alone for reasons I can't figure out. Dante—the golden boy who looks at me like I'm a problem he's trying to solve. Jax—the TA who tried to intimidate me until I put him on his ass, and now he follows me around like an angry cat that hasn't decided if it wants to be pet or bite me. Elias—the too-pretty rich boy who asks too many questions and looks at me like I'm the answer to something he's not saying out loud. I thought I was here to study genetics, turns out I'm the genetics. Aether bloodline that is believed to be ancient and extinct except apparently not, because I'm standing here with gold in my hair that won't dye out and an allergy to silver that makes no sense and power I don't know how to use sitting under my skin like a loaded gun. Someone's trying to kill me for it and through it all, three wolves telling me I'm their mate—which would be flattering if I wasn't too busy trying not to die to figure out what the fuck that means.

Quin went from watching her roommates make out to partaking in all forms of forbidden and dark sex because she just wants to get laid. Her hand gripped the doorknob so tightly her knuckles turned white. Quin knew she should leave. She should back out into the hallway and pretend she had forgotten her key, anything to erase the image of Mara’s head thrown back in ecstasy, her mouth open in a silent scream as Jade’s tongue worked her over or the sight of Marcus’s rod. But her feet were rooted to the spot. A heat, unfamiliar and intense, bloomed in her lower belly. She had read about this, but seeing it, the wet, slick sounds of Jade’s mouth, and the way Mara’s fingers clawed at the sheets and the way Marcus dick stood erect, was something else entirely. Then, Mara’s eyes snapped open. They locked onto Quin standing in the doorway. There was no shame in that gaze, only a dark, heavy-lidded amusement. "Well, well," Mara gasped, her voice breathless and ragged. She didn't push Jade away; instead, she tangled a hand in the brunette's dark hair, pressing her face harder against her cunt. "Look what the cat dragged in." "Quin," Jade purred, crawling up Mara’s body to nuzzle at her neck. "We were just talking about you. wondering if you’d ever get that stick out of your ass and join the real world." she glanced at Marcus too who nodded his head. Quin’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. "I... didn't mean to interrupt. I'll go." Ohhh, she didn’t go, she joined in and got initiated into dark sex.

Ever since I married Myra Cowan, I started living like a beggar despite making an annual salary of a million dollars. She kept telling me, "We should hang in there for now, honey. Once we've saved enough money, we'll be able to live however we want without worrying about our financial situation." My closet was stuffed with old suits bought ten years ago. My lunches were always sandwiches, which were nearing their expiry dates, bought from convenience stores. My friends made fun of me for marrying a woman who was addicted to saving money. But my heart went out to Myra for suffering with me in life. But when I was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer and needed money for a life-saving surgery, Myra broke down in tears and told me that all of our savings were kept in a fixed-term deposit. Before I drew my last breath, I heard Myra telling her younger brother, Dwight Cowan, over the phone in a gentle tone, "I've already transferred you the down payment for your house." When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Myra demands that I sell my gaming account in exchange for money. The monitor shows a familiar login screen. Myra can be seen standing next to me. "This account can be sold for 8,000 dollars. We can save three months' worth of expenses with this money!" I just laugh in response. In my previous life, I had done nothing but save money. In the end, all of my money became someone else's assets. Why the hell should I save money in this life? With just one click on the mouse, I reload a million dollars into the game right away. Immediately, a reddish-golden meteor shower covers the skies of the entire server. The system makes an announcement in a bold, enlarged font that gets repeated for a long time. "Player 'Void' spares no expense, inviting fair maidens from across the realms to forge a destined bond! Those who are interested are welcome to attend the Celestial Lake Gathering. A bride price of one million awaits—offered in exchange for a single, sincere heart."

I took a shortcut through the alley and watched Dante Marchetti put a bullet in a man like it was nothing. He saw my face. That was the end of my normal life. Within an hour I was in the back of his car being driven to an estate I had never seen before with gates that locked from the outside and a wardrobe full of clothes in my exact size waiting like someone had known I was coming before I did. He told me I wasn't a prisoner but a guest. He said people who wanted to find me were considerably worse than him and that his walls were the only thing standing between me and a conversation I wouldn't survive. Maybe he was right. The problem is the longer I stayed the harder it became to remember which one was true. Because the man who caught me in that alley wasn't the only version of him. There was another one that nobody else seemed to get to see. The one who stood alone in his dead mother's library looking tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. The one who had my cat brought to the estate because he heard me crying through a closed door and didn't know what else to do about it. The one who almost smiled when I threw a glass at his head. That version of him was the one I couldn't stop thinking about. I came here as a witness. I stayed as something else entirely. Somewhere between the locked doors, the candlelit dinners and the secrets we started sharing in the dark I stopped wanting to leave. The question was whether a woman like me could survive loving a man like him. I was about to find out.

Within the circle, everyone knew I had been Leo’s most devoted, submissive admirer. For thirteen years, I chased him relentlessly, transforming myself from an uneducated, middle-school-dropout, illegitimate child of a wealthy family into an Ivy League economics master’s graduate. Only then did his mother finally acknowledge me, and I became Mrs. Smith. However, after the wedding, I no longer meddled in Leo’s company, cooked, or served him. While he stayed up late planning strategies for his first love, I traveled the world with friends. He would accompany her to Paris fashion shows, and I celebrated my cat’s birthday at home. I understood that a commercial marriage could never produce love. Everything I had poured my heart into was just my own foolish obsession. In my past life, I handled his company’s internal conflicts for him. Yet, he frowned, scolding, “You’re reaching too far.” I cooked soups for his stomach ailments, only to see him hand them off to his overworked first love, brushing it off, “She works harder than I do.” Even on the day I had a car accident, he lit fireworks across the city just to see her smile. I begged him, but he looked down at me from above. “Nicole, what we have is only a transaction.” Then, I opened my eyes and found myself back at our engagement banquet, watching him leave midway to comfort his heartbroken first love. This time, I did not chase after him. Instead, I picked up the microphone and said before all the guests. “Sorry, everyone. My engagement with Leo is canceled.”

“Accept it! You cannot fucking run away from me. You can NEVER escape me. It would be better for you if you just accept that your fate is with ME. You are mine!” Emma shut her eyes, sobbing quietly beneath him. She knew she could never escape him; she knew he would never let her go. But that wouldn’t stop her from trying. She swallowed her fear and looked back at him with tearful, defiant eyes. “I-I’m not yours! I can never be yours. I am just a maid who works in your house. Y-you have no right to claim me like this,” she fired back. It didn’t shock Alexander. It amused him. His fiery cat was finally baring her claws. “You are mine, Emma,” he murmured, his voice dark and absolute. “You were mine the moment I laid my eyes on you. You were mine when you opened that door for me. You were mine when I saved you from the guy at the party who almost ruined you… You are mine, and you will always be mine.” She heard the sharp sound of his belt unbuckling, her eyes widening in panic. She pushed him as hard as she could, but nothing could stop a monster from claiming what belonged to him. ___ Alexander King is a ruthless, powerful billionaire who doesn’t know how to love—he only knows how to possess. Trapped under his lustful eyes, Emma is pulled into a dark, controlling world. He will break every rule and burn the world down to keep her. But what happens when the cage is made of overwhelming desire, and the monster refuses to let go?

My sister-in-law sent me a photo of her kissing my husband on the beach. Just a few minutes later, she deleted the photo and sent me a text saying, “Oops, sent to the wrong person. Lol.” I knew it was deliberate. It was never a mistake. She wanted me to see how happy my husband was with her. Clara was never my sister-in-law. Three years ago, my husband had lied about her, claiming she was his younger sister, and I believed him. But after five years of marriage, I discovered—far too late—that Clara was never his sister. She was his mistress, his childhood lover, the woman he had been sleeping with under the same roof as me while making me serve her as if she were truly my sister-in-law. And now what? He had lied again… said he was going on a business trip. Yet Clara had just sent me a picture—a cute, sickening picture—of my husband happily kissing the very woman he had once claimed was his younger sister. The photo carried a timestamp showing the exact time and location. It was real. There was no denying it. They were in Hawaii, on a beach, laughing, kissing, and having the time of their lives… while he had made me believe he was away on business. Without saying a word, I saved the picture and posted it straight to Instagram, captioning it: "Congratulations to my sister-in-law… on finally becoming the official wife.” Then I turned off my phone and went to bed. The next morning, after having breakfast with my cat, Lulu, and taking the warmest bath ever, I turned my phone back on—and froze. Over 200 missed calls were waiting for me. Notifications exploded across my phone. And it didn’t stop there—the number of unattended messages kept climbing past 250.

Elena had once believed that silence could mean safety. That a gentle hand and a warm cup of tea placed quietly on her desk every morning could be a form of love. Lucien was never cruel—not in the obvious ways. He remembered how she liked her eggs, noticed when she swapped her perfume, and sent flowers on days he knew she wouldn’t expect them. He raised her like one would raise a pet—softly, without question. And Elena, foolish in the way only the very lonely can be, mistook his quiet affection for devotion. She told herself he was reserved. Mysterious. That love didn’t always wear its heart on its sleeve. But when the old flame returned—the one who spoke his language without needing to try—Elena saw it. The difference. He looked at her like a man who had found his lost religion. And Elena? She had simply been convenient. No tears, no scene. Just papers on the breakfast table, beside the eggs he cooked perfectly. She didn’t accuse or beg. She only asked for freedom. He didn’t sign. He chuckled. A soft, dismissive sound. “A cat raised indoors doesn’t know how to survive on the street, Elena. You’ll come back." But she didn’t. She disappeared, like smoke—except she didn’t vanish, not really. She lived. She wore colour again. Laughed at bad jokes. Let strange men hand her coffee and ask for her number. Lucien? He watched. He watched her become someone without him. And it drove him mad. The night he cornered her outside the gallery, rain in his hair and desperation in his eyes, he looked like a man undone. "Elena," he breathed, "please. Look at me. Just once." She did. Calm as ever, and her love already gone.

I've been married to Salvatore Falcone for seven years. He's a mafia Don who drills raw terror into everyone's minds. While I'm the Donna whom he has announced to the world, in truth, I'm just a mistress who serves as his human shield that can warm his bed on the side. Salvatore has betrayed me countless times over the past seven years. The first betrayal occurred when he took my ring off on our first wedding anniversary and gave it to one of the escorts in the clubhouse on a whim. The second betrayal occurred when I collapsed in the kitchen out of exhaustion. Instead of saving me, Salvatore blamed me for not preparing the hangover tonic for him in time, so he had someone dump iced water onto me to wake me up. The third betrayal occurred when I suffered from massive bleeding when I was five months pregnant. When I begged Salvatore to go to the hospital with me, he told me that he was keeping Valentina Caruso, his childhood sweetheart, company while her cat was getting fixed. For 2500 days, I swallowed all of my grievances, agony, and tears. Last night, at the banquet of our seventh wedding anniversary, Salvatore had taken Valentina's hand and sat her down on the Donna's throne that was meant to be mine. At that moment, everyone looked forward to seeing me humiliate myself. This was the 101st time he betrayed me. After the banquet was over, Salvatore didn't even bother looking me in the eye. He just said icily, "Don't forget that you're only a mistress to me despite our marriage." At the crack of dawn, Salvatore wakes up with a hangover. He tosses his soiled shirt at me out of habit. "Wash this shirt immediately. I'm going to wear it tonight." As I gaze at him, I caress my belly, which is slightly swollen. "Sorry, Mr. Falcone. This is no longer my duty." Salvatore most likely has forgotten that we've signed a contract when we first got married. The clause states that we will get divorced seven years later. Today is the third day before our contract comes to an end. I toss the marriage certificate and the pregnancy report into the shredder on the spot. In three days, my unborn baby and I will disappear from Salvatore's world permanently. This time, I will never look back.