Cathedral Gundam Novels & Stories

On the night before the wedding, New York was washed in cold rain. The rehearsal at St. Patrick's Cathedral had been set for seven o'clock. Under the vaulted ceiling, the white roses, black satin bows, and silver candelabras had all been arranged exactly the way I wanted. But by the time the rehearsal ended, he still hadn't shown up. At 11:17 that night, I finally got a message from him. [Sophia is pregnant. Although the baby isn’t mine, I can’t let her child be born carrying the name of an illegitimate child.] [I went to City Hall with her tonight and made it legal.] [The wedding is still happening tomorrow.] [That piece of paper is just a formality. The person standing at the altar will still be you.] [Don't let outsiders know too much. And don't ruin her reputation.] I stared at those lines for a long time. In the end, I replied with a single word. [Okay.] I don't want the wedding and you.

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?.

Declan Callahan knew the instant he saw her at school: Evie McCarthy was his. He claimed her with a sick obsession, married her, had a daughter—until the day he lost her forever. Or so he thought. Six years later, in the middle of her wedding to another man, Declan storms into New York Cathedral, snatches the bride from the altar, and throws her over his shoulder. Evie doesn't remember him. She doesn't remember anything. To her, he's just a dangerous stranger. But Declan doesn't care. He'll take her back to Dublin. He'll imprison her. He'll mark her. He'll make her remember—even if he has to break her to do it. Across the ocean, Harvey Prescott, the man who kept her trapped in a lie for five years, declares war. Two obsessed monsters. One woman. Between fragmented memories, toxic desire, and an attraction she can't control, Evie discovers the darkest truth: she doesn't want to choose. She wants both.

“You’re trembling, little bride.” His voice was velvet and sin, wrapping around her throat like a leash. “Is it fear… or excitement?”He says in a husky voice, she could feel the burn of it on her skin. She should have run the moment she stepped inside his cathedral of darkness. Should have ignored the way his black wings unfolded behind him like a promise of ruin. Should have looked away from the monster with heaven in his eyes and hell on his lips. But when he touched her? When he whispered mine against her skin? She realized monsters were far more tempting than saints. Bound by an ancient vow she never agreed to, she’s dragged into a world of fallen angels, deadly desires, and dangerous obsession where one possessive creature is determined to claim her as his bride. He doesn’t want her heart. He wants her surrender. And the worst part? Every filthy promise dripping from his mouth makes her crave him more. Because behind those wicked smiles and sinful hands lies a man willing to burn heaven itself just to keep her. CLAIMING HIS BRIDE is a dark paranormal romance filled with obsessive love, possessive monsters, dangerous temptation, wicked tension, and a heroine who discovers that being claimed may be the most intoxicating sin of all.

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.

Everyone warned me never to fall for Dante Moretti. They said he was the ghost of the Velasco family—an underboss who ordered hits without blinking, his heart colder than the barrel of his gun. But when he bent me over that mahogany desk, his mouth against my ear commanding me to say his name, I was stupid enough to think that was possession. It took me an entire year to see the truth. The photographs locked in his study drawer were never of me. The woman in white waiting for him in the cathedral district on Sunday mornings was never me. The girl who took a bullet for him, the one he called his "salvation"—her name is Elena Abate. And Elena happens to be my stepmother's daughter. My father is trying to sell me to a half-dead Agosti heir for five hundred million to save the family. My stepmother is scheming to erase me from existence entirely. And the man I thought would burn this city to the ground for me? On the day I needed him most, he was lifting Elena up a flight of stairs, cradling her like something sacred. They all thought I was just a pawn to be moved around their chessboard. They were wrong. If Dante can't let go of his precious white moonlight, his "salvation," then I'll become someone else's "widow." If Elena believes she's already won this game, I'll let her watch from the front row as a woman with nothing left to lose burns it all down. My name is Serafina. Remember it. Because I am about to become the reckoning none of them saw coming.

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.