Christian Rizz Lines Novels & Stories

One reckless, emotional night where everything finally unraveled. God, I loved reading. A sudden throat clearing shattered the moment. I jumped so hard my heart slammed into my ribs, eyes going wide as I whipped around— Straight into Tristain. He still wore his black dress clothes, but the top three buttons were undone, exposing a thin silver chain that lay casually against his skin. Another thing that was begrudgingly attractive. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, revaling ropes of veins that snaked all around his forearms. Fuck…

she pointed at the table. She did?. No wonder Sky said something about me taking an excuse to stay at home. “I’ll go to the temple with my mom tomorrow to pray on your behalf, okay? I'll pray specifically for you to get well soon, and cast out evil eyes!” “Isn’t that exaggerated?” Claire, one of the girls said, and we laughed. “Melissa, you should become a nun instead, so that your daily prayers can wipe out your bad luck,” another girl called Quincy said, and another round of laughter followed.

“That’s eight figures, Cross. Real money. Even for us.” Julian’s smile is slow and cruel. “They’re calling it the Black Run. A full sweep. Clean through Twelve. Sponsors are salivating. She’s hot, she’s new, she’s got trauma written all over her. They think she’s the first wildcard to actually make it.”

I scoff and start playing with my toes for entertainment and soon the nurse appears to put me out of my misery. “Where’d you find this one?” she says with a chuckle in her tone. “What?” I say before I can stop myself. “He’s going on and on about dying. Lad says someone will kill him.” A chill travels down the base of my spine at the mention of death. Since none of us make a move to say anything, she sees it as an opportunity to continue. “Well this isn’t new since his file says ‘might have mental episodes’.” The sigh I release is one of relief. No one is dying. There’s no murderer out there waiting to get me. I glance towards Mr. Sinclair and notice his hair is now disheveled due to the amou

The aide vanished instantly. Alone, Clarisse rose and crossed to the window, the skyline glittering like a board scattered with broken glass. She had ruled these towers for years, unseen and unchallenged. But now, too many shadows pressed against her walls. Damon Cross circling with his enigmatic smile. Elara growing sharper, bolder. And somewhere, an unseen player who could sever her lines without warning. Clarisse touched the pearl at her throat, grounding herself with the ritual gesture. No, she wasn’t beaten. A snapped string didn’t mean the symphony ended. It only meant she needed a new instrument.

I walked over to the long line of glass mirrors hanging above the perimeter sinks, my hands trembling as I reached down to fix the hem of my twisted skirt and pull my oversized sweater back down over my hips. I looked up at my reflection, my breath catching instantly in my throat. I reached down, my shaking fingers pulling the waistband of my skirt slightly to the side. Right there, forming directly over my pale hip bone, was a dark, deep purple mark. It was shaped perfectly by the heavy print of Leo's fingers, a brutal, undeniable brand burning into my skin where nobody else in this school would ever see it.

Nails left crescent marks in the skin. “I’m — shit — ” Marcus pressed their foreheads together. His breathing came in harsh pants.“Come on. Let go.” Ethan shattered first. His back arched. A choked groan tore out of him as he spilled hot and thick over Marcus’s fist, streaking their stomach. The sight of it — Ethan’s release painting their skin — pushed Marcus over the edge seconds later. He came with a low, guttural curse. Hips stuttering. Adding messy stripes to the mess already there.

Her hands fisted in my shirt, pulling me closer, like she wanted to erase every inch of distance that had ever existed. It was reckless. It was dangerous. It was perfect. When we finally broke apart, breathing hard, her forehead rested against mine. “That…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “That was crossing the line.” A bitter laugh caught in my throat. “Yeah.” My thumb traced her jaw, unwilling to let go. “And I don’t regret it.” Her eyes searched mine, wide and vulnerable. “Neither do I.” --- We didn’t go inside. Not yet. We walked again, slower this time, like we needed the night air to cool the fire still sparking between us. Every brush of her hand against mine felt like another pro