Cathedral Gundam

Suatu hari, Rachel Sonya mendengar percakapan suaminya, Zack Gundam, dengan asistennya. “Pak Zack, sejak Anda merancang agar lengan nyonya terluka, dia sudah sangat sulit untuk mengambil kuas. Sekarang Nona Selvia sudah menggantikan posisi nyonya sebagai pelukis terkenal.” “Sekarang lengan nyonya di ambang nekrosis, apakah Anda yakin ingin terus mengelabuinya dan nggak mau menyembuhkan lengan nyonya?” Zack menjawab dengan suara jernih dan dingin. "Hanya ini yang bisa kulakukan untuk mengukuhkan posisi Selvia sebagai pelukis jenius. Aku hanya bisa menggunakan sisa hidupku untuk mengkompensasi pengorbanan Rachel." Saking terkejutnya, Rachel sampai mundur beberapa langkah. Dia tidak percaya dia telah tertipu selama tiga tahun oleh sang penyelamat dalam hatinya. Toh semua cinta hanyalah kebohongan, maka sudah saatnya dia pergi.

Warning: Brutally Raw Erotic story for mature minds ONLY! The kind that stalks you, creeps up on you in the dark, and makes you mumble prayers. Triggers and themes: Insane taboo, Stranger’s BBC on a crowded subway, Age gap, Slut for a stalker, Obsessed with the masked man, Dark kinky, Pervert savior… *** *** Isla has always been a wild teenager. Her blissful life gets messy when she fails her scholarship exam to the city’s college and her overly protective mum offers her to the convent as a nun. On her way to the cathedral, she meets the Subway Perv who is about to be her only way out of her twisted fate. Except that the price for her freedom may cost Isla her soul.

“He’s unholy, he’s dirty, and you must be kept pure.” He said forcing our eyes to meet. The tip of his thumb brushed my lips. He let my hair go, stumbling back as tho he was tipsy. “Take off your clothes” I did as instructed, no questioning. When the miracle boy of Edevane is found in the arms of the Mayor's bastard son, the whole town erupts in a scandal. Simon, the adopted son of Father cadwell, was born to kneel and smile through pain. Behind the cathedral doors, Simon endures bruises because he's told, saints are meant to bleed. Arson Grey, the mayor's bastard son, reckless and irresponsible finds Simon attractive and sees through his facade. He wants the boy under the mask. Simon’s past comes back to hunt him, but things are different this time. When Simon falls, when he loses his faith, and scatters the boat of salvation. Would Arson be there to catch him? What happens when saints falls?.

This action thriller will catch you right from the beginning. Human cloning is strictly prohibited, or so we thought. This is the story of Dr. Julius Hansen, renowned scientist, whom the religious group called "The Second Coming" makes the proposal to clone Jesus of Nazareth, using the DNA from the sudarium of the Cathedral of San Salvador in Oviedo, Spain. At first he refuses, but his scientific curiosity and attraction to the unknown make him secretly accept the request. But when the boy reaches his first year of life, Dr. Hansen decides to run away with him so as not to subject him to any kind of religious fanaticism, and both disappears for four years. Now Joseph, the clone of Jesus, is five years old and Dr. Hansen decides to come out of hiding under pressure from a dangerous satanic sect and an extreme religious group who manage to locate them, unleashing a ruthless hunt to catch them and murder the clone child. Fortunately, on their way they meet former marine David Cranston, who decides to protect them using his military knowledge and experience in the war in Afghanistan, leaving a trail of death in his wake. In this scenario, detectives Mark Forney and Doris Ventura of the New York Police, will investigate the motive, still unknown to all, of the deaths in the city, while a sagacious journalist tries to anticipate them with the exclusive of her life. Meanwhile, without being fully aware of it, Joseph will develop important "skills" that only someone like him can have, changing the lives of the people around him and showing that his birth may be part of the many plans God has for this world. A fast-paced story full of action and emotion, developed as a trilogy. This is book One.

Anastasia Kain and I were childhood sweethearts, but we resented each other for a lifetime. She blamed me for making decisions without her consent. I had awakened her memories and driven her first love to jump off a building. I blamed her for breaking her promise. She once swore she would love me forever, yet after losing her memory, she fell for someone else. We were married, but we lived like strangers who happened to share a roof. However, when I was diagnosed with ALS and the whole city urged her to divorce me, Anastasia carried me on her back and climbed 3,000 steps to reach a cathedral, praying day and night just for me to live a little longer. When the end finally came, she stayed beside my hospital bed all night, her forehead pressed gently against my cheek. In a trembling whisper, she said, "Mason, I've done everything I could for you in this life. If there's a next one, please don't make me remember again. Let me be with him." Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes. Only then did I realize I should never have chained her to me with the love we shared in our youth. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I first found Anastasia. This time, I chose to let her memories stay buried so that the girl I loved could run freely toward the man she had always wanted.

The day before my wedding, I went to our cathedral early to get familiar with the place. Instead, I found my fiancé and my stepsister, Isabella fucking on the altar. Our altar. I caught them. He didn't even apologize and just threw me out into the storm. I collapsed in the pouring rain. That’s when he found me. Alistair, the Vampire Prince. He moved like a god through the storm. He pulled me from the mud, and gave me a palace. He told the world I was his soulmate. The one he’d spent centuries searching for. His one and only. For five years, his devotion made me the envy of the supernatural world. I thought I was the one exception in his eternal life. Until I found his secret room. My fingers brushed against an ancient scroll. The script was written in blood. The first line was her name: Isabella. Beneath it, in Alistair's own hand: “Absolute priority. Above all else.” Underneath was a healer's log I’d never seen before. A vampire's healing log. The date was from the night I found out I was pregnant. The night I was attacked by werewolves. They brought me back to the castle, covered in blood. The healers never came for me. I woke up alone. The baby was gone. Our child. His blood, my blood—gone. And my clothes were soaked in what was left of it. I cleaned every trace of it. When he came home, I broke down in his arms. I never told him. I couldn’t bear for him to feel the pain I felt. Now I understood. That same night, Isabella was also being attacked by werewolves. And Alistair’s order to his council was: “Send every healer. Isabella is the priority.” My heart stopped. Despair was a poison in my veins. “If I was never the one... then you can keep your eternity. I want no part of it.”

Shortly after we said "I do," the Family sent my husband, Dario, down to the Mexican border. He told me it was a meat grinder down there—cartel territory. where guys were zipped into body bags every day. He said he had to go—to expand the territory, for the glory of the Family. He claimed it was too dangerous and that his enemies would paint a target on my back, so he wouldn't take me with him. I believed him. I stayed behind in his old, rot-infested house in New Jersey, taking care of his bitter, spiteful parents. I spent my days and nights in the Family's moldy laundromat, washing bills stained with blood. He told me he sent every dime he made down there to the widow of a brother who took a bullet for him. He asked me to be understanding. I never complained. Day after day, I pressed expensive suits in that humid laundromat, waiting for him to come home. It wasn't until the eighth year that a mobster came back drunk. When I asked about Dario, he froze, then sneered at me through a haze of alcohol. "Dario? Are you kidding? He’s been a King in Manhattan for years. He’s the youngest Underboss of the Corleone family." I stood frozen, the iron in my hand burning a hole right through a shirt. "And he got married seven years ago. Biggest cathedral in New Jersey. Half the mob was there to toast the groom..." He pulled a crumpled photo from his leather jacket. Snuggled up against my husband was a woman in a high-end couture gown—the very same "poor, widowed sister-in-law" he had told me about. The next day, I contacted a fixer who specialized in fake IDs. On the application for a one-way ticket to Europe—a ticket to vanish off the face of the earth—I filled in the fake name I had prepared long ago. He trapped me for seven years with a sham marriage. From now on, I’d be done with this damn loyalty.