Chill Oc

The evening air was biting cold, sending shivers down Cole's spine. She was sure she'd turn into an icicle when, without warning, Vincent gently scooped her up. A soft gasp escaped her lips as he settled them both across the length of the bed, pulling her close as he draped an extra blanket over their entwined forms. A warm blush bloomed across Cole's cheeks as she became acutely aware of their intimate position. But Vincent, with his steady composure, seemed entirely unbothered, simply relaxing into the bed’s softness. "Get some sleep," he murmured, his voice a soothing rumble that resonated in her chest. Sensing her gaze, he added, "The power will be back on once the damage is repaired. So… just stay close to me until then." Cole took a deep breath, willing her racing heart to calm. Slowly, she let herself melt into his embrace, resting her head on his broad chest. The faint scent of spring blossoms and cypress swirled around her, a fragrance that felt both comforting and familiar. She nestled closer, the warmth of his body chasing away the chill as sleep began to tug at her eyelids. With each steady beat of his heart, Cole felt a sense of peace she hadn't known she needed. She smiled softly, the rhythm of his heartbeat the most beautiful melody, lulling her into the comfort of dreams. As survivors of a collapsed society, a group of doctors are the world's last hope for a cure. In order to protect each other and the future, they've worked in secret. Preserving resources which become scarcer year after year. Among these survivors, a pair of doctors endure challenges as a deadly contagion spreads. Against better judgment, an unexpected bond develops between them and their patient.

Ferngrove must pay for their crimes of stealing an ancient jewel from a Fae High Lord, Valen, and harnessing the power within it. So every century, a daughter of the chief must be taken to Lyria, the realm of the High lord and there she will spend her remaining life paying for her ancestors crimes. After another century, Valen descends on the village once more, taking the beautiful daughter of the chief of Ferngrove, Maerwynn. And he imprisons her in his Court subjecting her to a cruel fate. As the days pass, Valen finds himself inexplicably drawn to Maerwynn, her unwavering strength and beauty stirring something long dormant within his dark heart and when Maerwynn, finds out she's more than a mere human and her destiny is tied to Valen, she gathers enemies like bees to honey. Determined to protect her from the dangers lurking within his own realm and beyond, Valen finds himself making sacrifices he never thought possible, defying the very nature of his being but nothing can stop the war coming. But nothing can stop the war coming, for it will consume completely. ************************* He fixes me with a steely gaze, his voice taking on a darker edge. "You have no business with my Court or any other Court in Lyria, to be precise. You're here to atone for the sins of your ancestors, and you will do so while knowing your place," he declares, his words cutting through the air like a knife. I swallow hard, feeling a heavy weight settle in my chest at his harsh tone and the gravity of his words. "And what is my place?" I inquire, my voice barely above a whisper. His gaze hardens, and his words send a chill down my spine. "My prisoner."

“If I ever crossed that line with you,” he said, calm enough to chill me, “It sure as hell wouldn’t be because you’re rich.” His thumb brushed my jaw, making my lower lip sag . “It would be when you’re no longer hiding behind any of it.” A second passed “It’d be when you’re flooded up to your eyes with your wetness but still thinking straight enough to plead with me fuck you. It’d be when you’re on your knees begging to have my cock shoved in you in any hole I please,” I released a heavy exhale and he swallowed it up as his lips were mere inches from mine. “It’d be when all that pride finally shuts up.” His eyes dropped briefly, then returned to mine. “Until then, I’ll be here to watch you convince yourself you’re not unravelling under my gaze, to watch you struggle to understand what’s happening to you.” “Fuck you!” I spat “Sure. Whenever you’re ready.” he replied, releasing my neck Raina Cole doesn’t believe in love not after being left at the altar by the man she thought she’d spend forever with. So when her ex invites her to his wedding, she does what any humiliated woman with money and pride would do; she hires the most dangerous man she’s ever met to play her perfect boyfriend. Gorgeous enough to make her ex choke on regret. Only the man she hires isn’t what he seems He’s not a date-for-hire. He’s an assassin sent to end her life. But the closer he gets, the harder it becomes to remember which side he’s on.

When Yelton Group tanked, their CEO and his wife showed up at our door, begging for a marriage alliance. My dad, thinking I was still head-over-heels for Rosie after ten freaking years, threw a million into their sinking ship and signed me up to marry Rosie. Wedding night? She blindfolded me and kept whispering how bad she wanted it. A month later, I tested positive for an STD. Then I caught her bragging to her friends. "Quinn got wrecked by, like, a dozen girls," she laughed. "Wanna guess who gave him the infection?" Her friends were cracking up. "I scouted all the grossest red-light spots," one said. "Each one's got a different flavor." "Just wait," another giggled. "When the symptoms hit hard, we'll know who wins." Rosie added, "Prize money's ready. Soon as we figure it out, she gets paid." That's when it hit me. It wasn't Rosie in bed that night—it was a lineup of strangers she set up. I lost it. Went straight to her, demanded answers. She didn't even flinch. "Mad? Please. If you hadn't dangled that million to force me into this marriage—or scared Caleb off—do you think I'd waste my time on you? "Once Caleb forgives me, you're done." I asked for a divorce. She locked me in the basement. "Chill," she said. "We're still placing bets on who gave you the STD." Six months later, I died down there. Just rotted away. Then I woke up—right back on the day her parents came begging for that deal. Only this time, on the wedding day? She was the one crying.

“On all fours, baby. Now crawl to Daddy,” His velvety voice filled me with need as I dropped on my knees and crawled to him. "What do you want,gumdrop?" A dark look of lust settled over his face and I tried not to shiver at the sudden chill that ran through me. "I want you to f**k me." I swallowed hard as thrills of pleasure coursed through my body.My eyes flitted up to meet his grey orbs again, they were burning with hunger and a dark fire. "Fast and hard.”A soft whimper escaped my lips as he reached for me. “That's my good girl.” ** ** ** ** Zella Carmichael spent years harboring a secret crush on the ruthless billionaire, Isaiah King—her godfather and her father’s best friend—while pretending it was nothing more than a silly dream. So when his charming son swept her off her feet, it felt like fate offering her a safer version of the man she could never have. But fate had other plans. Just days before her engagement to Isaiah’s son, Isaiah steps in with a truth that wrecks her world: for the next 360 days, she is his. Zella believed her father gave her away to protect her from Isaiah’s threats, however she was far from the truth. Behind Isaiah’s cold steel eyes hides a man who has always been obsessed with her. And behind her father’s words lies secrets so dark, it will wreck her world. Zella is pulled into a world of passion, twisted secrets, power play, sizzling lust and betrayal. Trapped between the boy who once loved her and the man she was never meant to want… who will get her in the end—father or son? When dark shattering secrets come to light, will their love survive?

Sur une scène noyée de lumière pourpre, Sélia, danseuse de cabaret au tempérament incandescent, envoûte le public de ses mouvements sensuels. Mais une chute brutale interrompt le numéro : le noir total. À son réveil, plus de musique, plus de néons… seulement l’odeur entêtante du bois poli, le vacillement des torches, et des hommes en armure qui l’empoignent sans ménagement. Sans comprendre comment, elle a quitté son époque pour se retrouver projetée au XVIIᵉ siècle, au cœur du Royaume de Valcoris, un domaine prospère bordé par les déserts brûlants et les falaises océanes, où toute danse provocante est perçue comme un acte de sorcellerie. Face à elle se tient le Roi Lucian Aurel, jeune souverain redouté, aussi froid qu’implacable. Fasciné malgré lui par cette étrangère aux gestes envoûtants, il la déclare sorcière et ordonne sa mise à mort. Jetée dans une cellule humide, Sélia comprend qu’elle n’a que deux voies : mourir… ou séduire l’homme qui veut sa tête. Mais deux femmes rôdent déjà dans l’ombre du trône. Il y a Calandra, maîtresse officielle du Roi, jalouse et rusée, prête à défendre son privilège par le poison ou le mensonge. Et Lyria, mystérieuse conseillère royale, manipulatrice habile dont les sourires cachent des desseins plus noirs encore. Entre alliances fragiles et trahisons voilées, Sélia se retrouve prise dans un duel de regards, de mots et de désirs interdits. Plus la passion interdite grandit entre elle et le Roi, plus le fil de la lame se rapproche… car dans ce royaume, l’amour peut tuer plus sûrement que la guillotine.

When Elowen learned that she had been switched at birth, that her life as a princess was nothing more than a mistake, she quietly accepted her fate. She accepted being treated as an error. Accepted being hurt so deeply that even crying had to be done in secret. She believed she would fade away like this — silently, unnoticed, forgotten. Until one day — when despair pushed her to the edge — she felt a faint chill, as if someone were standing behind her, protecting her without a word. From that moment on, Elowen knew she was no longer alone. — Adrian survived a horrific car accident. His body lay motionless in a hospital bed, while his soul became bound to a wounded girl he had never known. He couldn’t hold her. Couldn’t shield her from harm. Yet when she was starved, warm food appeared in her drawer. When she was bullied, her tormentors met with inexplicable accidents. When she curled up crying in the dead of night, an invisible hand gently rested on her forehead—so tender it hurt. Adrian was there. Quieter than any living person. He witnessed every wound, remembered every tear, every trembling breath she tried to suppress. Affection grew in silence—slowly, carefully—as if one careless step closer would cause the girl to shatter. One was alive, yet denied a life. One was dead, yet still learning how to protect someone. Some forms of protection need no light. Some kinds of love cannot be touched. — Then one day, Elowen spoke seriously to her “Ms. Ghost”: Elowen: “Ms. Ghost, if you’re lonely…” “Maybe you could bond with a male ghost.” “I’d give you my blessing.” Adrian: … Then the “Ms. Ghost” coldly placed a hand on her forehead. Adrian: “Call me Mr. Ghost.”

“If you have any sense you would run away from me as fast as you possibly could,” Dougal Wilde said, his voice betraying some new emotions I couldn’t pinpoint. I looked at him through my lashes, and gently touched his cheek. “I do not think I want to take a single step away from you,” I whispered. He flinched at the touch of my finger. His eyes narrowed, the first indication of letting me know I was winning this war already. “Just as well. I am suddenly not in the mood to let you escape from me.” He lowered his head and his mouth moved on mine with astonishing tenderness, easing apart my lips until I obeyed the silent command. His lips surged into my warmth with stunning intimacy. I moaned softly and sagged against him. Never had a man kissed me in this manner. I shivered as he lifted me up against his chest. “Kiss me.” He ordered in a deep, dark voice that sent a delicious chill down my spine. Without stopping to think, I wrapped my arms around his neck. I moaned and sagged against him, my lips taking his in a soft whisper, lashing unto his tongue to suckle. “You little…” a groan was what ended his little speech. His hands found the strap of one end of my dress and pulled it down my arm, exposing my breast and pink little nipple. “So perfect.” He moaned. Without warning, he reached down and latched unto the nipple. ***** Natasha found herself falling for a man who is her father's friend and business partner. She knew she ought to run and never look back, but there was something in the way he looked at her that made her want to fall into sin with him.

I stared down at the contract, a wave of defiance bubbling up in me. I turned back to him, meeting his gaze head-on. "I never asked for your help," I said, "I would've found a way to save my mother on my own. You may think you own me, but I'd rather die than marry you." A slow smile crept across his face, a smug, knowing look that sent a chill down my spine. He knew exactly what I was thinking, as if my resistance only entertained him. "Look at me," he commanded. I reluctantly turned back, locking eyes with him. His face had shifted, his expression darkened, and for the first time, true fury was etched in his eyes. "I’ll count to ten," he said, "If that contract isn’t signed by the time I reach ten, I’ll make the same call I made to pay those bills. Only this time, the instructions will be different. Your mother... your sister…they’ll both be gone." He took a breath, settling back as if the threat were a mere matter of routine. "So… ONE!!" I swallowed hard, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Could he be bluffing? No, I'd seen him kill before, seen how casually he turned life and death into sports. "FOUR," he counted. My hands started to shake. What could I do? If I signed, I'd be bound to him forever, trapped as his wife. But if I didn’t... my mother and sister’s lives hung in the balance. "SEVEN." I closed my eyes, fighting the panic rising in my chest. He wouldn’t do it, I told myself. He couldn’t be that monstrous. But even as I thought it, the doubt crept in. I wasn’t sure. Then, he hit "TEN" himself

“Ma’am, there’s no marriage record between you and Mr. Mark Henderson in the system.” My fingers tightened around the pregnancy report as my legs nearly gave out beneath me. Five years ago, Mark was recruited by a top law firm abroad with a high-paying offer. Without hesitation, I followed him across the ocean. He had told me, “Once I’m settled, I’ll take care of your status.” However, five years had passed, and my lawful permanent residence was still “in process.” Meanwhile, his assistant, Tonya Irving, who followed him abroad, had secured hers under his sponsorship. Back then, I made a scene, insisting on a divorce so I could return home. For the first time, the ever-composed Mark, an attorney, lost his calm. He grabbed my hand and said, “Tonya’s all alone out here, and it hasn’t been easy for her. Helping her is just the right thing to do. You’re my wife. Your status is only a matter of time. My work is sensitive right now, and I need to avoid any complications. You understand, don’t you?” But I had understood him for five whole years. My phone suddenly rang. Mark’s voice came through, light with laughter. “Tonya’s permanent residence was approved today. We’re celebrating tonight. I need you to get home early and cook up a feast.” I stared at the marriage license in my hand—now nothing more than a worthless piece of paper. A cold chill spread down my spine. As it turned out, I was never his legal wife. I had no legal status and no protection, much less rights secured for the child I was carrying. After hanging up, I scheduled an abortion and booked the earliest flight home. This time, I wouldn’t look back.