Novel & Cerita Collar Drawings

I was feeding my seven-year-old daughter, Lucy Langer, when Robert Langer crashed through the front door, reeking of alcohol. His shirt collar hung askew, and red marks blazed across his neck. "Audrey," he said hoarsely, "someone spiked my drink at the charity gala. But don't worry. I've already had my lawyer handle it." I nodded. After so many years of marriage, I knew he only had eyes for me and our daughter. He never strayed. Or so I believed… until eight months later. While Robert was away on a business trip, his cruise ship caught fire. The news dominated every channel. Clutching a sobbing Lucy, I rushed to the hospital, only to find him swathed in bandages, standing outside the maternity ward. "Becca is pregnant," he murmured. "It was that night at the gala… I didn't think it would happen from just once…" He gulped. "When the fire spread, she saved me. But she… got trapped herself." A newborn's wail pierced the corridor as the delivery room doors opened. Becca White was wheeled out, looking pale and exhausted. She clutched my sleeve and pleaded desperately, "Audrey… my babies can't grow up without a father…"

On our tenth anniversary, Evan Rodger and I decided to tattoo each other's names on our chests. After the tattoo session, I woke up with my head still feeling groggy. To my dismay, I found the words "Old Crone" tattooed in a bold font across my chest. Upon noticing the way my expression dropped, Isabel Hawthorn, who was the tattooist, snickered, "You’ve been dating Evan for a decade, but he still hasn’t registered your marriage together. What does that make you if not an old crone?" I smashed the mirror on the spot, which spewed broken shards in her direction. Evan practically threw himself in her direction and pulled her into his arms to protect her. He snapped at me with a ferocious scowl, "She’s just a young, naive girl who was trying to make a joke. Why are you picking on her?" I stared intently at the parted collar of his shirt. What was supposed to be my name tattooed on his chest had been replaced with "Isabel Hawthorn, My Only Love". Isabel wrapped her arms around Evan. She expertly played the victim and appealed dearly to him, "Evan said he liked my name last time, so I was only trying to make a joke. You wouldn’t be upset at me, would you, Claire?"

"Ryan we can't do this!" I pleaded, knowing I had already fallen into his temptation. He trailed his thumb softy on my collar bone, our gaze met and I melted instantly in those alluring eyes of his. "Yet, we can't deny our feelings," He uttered huskily and captured my lips with his, every ounce of restraint in me drained off as I succumbed to him. ~~ After two years of living in Bradford, UK with her broken father, Hailey recently moved back to Albany in New York to stay with her mom's remarried family to complete her finals in a new high school in her stepfamily's city. The weather, her stepfamily's lavish and luxurious lifestyle, and most importantly her stepbrother, Ryan, were all troubling for her. Ryan, The handsome, popular, and athletic rich guy of the school was every girl's dream while Hailey thought having a popular stepbrother like him would make her stay a lot easier in her new school, instead it turns out Ryan has made up his mind to wreck Hailey's life to the worst. Soon enough, Hailey noticed that Ryan has been having a grudge toward her for years for reasons she couldn't place her mind on.

He Rejected Marking Ceremony, I Upgraded Mate The very first thing I decided to do after being reborn was to reject the marking ceremony with my Alpha mate Ethan. In my previous life, when Ethan tried to postpone our ceremony for the thirty-second time, I threatened him with the sacred laws of the Moon Goddess. Ethan eventually caved. To pacify my rage, he promised that nothing would interrupt us again. But that was the night his Omega mistress Ivy died. From that moment on, Ethan hated me with every fiber of his being. When I told him I was pregnant, he drowned me in the freezing North Sea. "You and that abomination in your belly deserve to die for her," he spat as he held my head under the water. I died in despair. But when I opened my eyes, I was back at the altar. Ethan looked impatient. "Selena, Ivy says her chest hurts.. We need to postpone the mark again." He expected me to beg. Instead, I unclasped the ceremonial collar and threw it in his face. "Go to her. I quit." Ethan sneered, "Stop acting. Without my scent, you’ll be back crawling on your knees in a week." He didn't know that an hour later, I was knocking on the door of his mortal enemy—Damon, the Tyrant of the North. When I posted a photo of the Winterborn Alpha’s ring on my finger with the caption "Upgrade my mate," Ethan went mad…

THE ALTAR WE BURNED- Synopsis We burned in silence. We sinned in shadows. And in the house of God, we made a bed of ashes. Every time he pushed me away, I came back craving more. Every time he prayed for forgiveness, I found another reason to fall deeper. What started with longing turned into obsession and the line between salvation and damnation vanished. But loving him comes with a price. He was a man of God. I was the girl who shouldn’t have looked twice. Father Arthur Harper; the parish’s miracle, young, striking, and painfully devoted to his vows. They whispered about how he turned down wealth, women, and a powerful life just to serve behind the altar. But beneath the collar was something dangerous. Magnetic. Something that set fire to every quiet confession and holy glance. I shouldn’t have been drawn to him,but I was. He saw me; Isabella Luca the troubled soul who came to church for peace but stayed because he made my heart race, One touch, One stolen moment, One kiss,That’s all it took to unravel us. The Altar We Burned is a fast-burn, emotionally intense, and sinfully steamy forbidden romance that explores the cost of desire, the power of temptation, and what happens when love crosses the ultimate line. Prepare to confess… because this story doesn’t play by the rules.

"You really think you can seduce the Alpha looking like that?" The mischievous grey wolf beside me whispered. He was trying to make me give up, but I had to come out the victor in these games for my pack and my family. He slowly took one clawed finger and slipped the strap of my silk burgundy floor length gown off my shoulder in front of the whole table of wolf royalty. "That's a little more like it," He coaxed, "Look at him with all of those other attractive wolves to choose from. You'll never catch his attention like this." I stared at the end of the table where the Alpha sat. He was dark of hair and broad of chest and always had a smile and was willing to lend a paw to a wolf in need. He was laughing at something the stunning blonde she-wolf beside him had said and that cheerful couple drew a sharp contrast from the unknown man on his other side. I couldn't even be sure that man was a wolf at all, he was pale and lean but his eyes were dark, cold and...and never seemed to leave my face. "Just give up the games now," the grey wolf continues, "fall into my arms instead I can take care of you just as well as some fancy Alpha can. Close your eyes, you won't even notice the difference." I felt his tongue from my collar bone to my jaw.

I was the perfect wife. The Senator’s daughter. The woman who smiled while her world burned. For three years, I played the part. I ignored the lipstick on my husband’s collar, the late nights, and the cold indifference. I accepted the "open marriage" I never asked for, just to keep the peace. But peace is a lie. And tonight, I’m done playing by the rules. One night of rebellion at the city’s most exclusive underground club was supposed to be my escape. Instead, it was a collision course with the past. The Mercer Brothers. Silas, the ruthless king. Dante, the violent enforcer. Julian, the beautiful psychopath. They were my brother’s best friends. The men who warned me to stay away. The monsters who run this city from the shadows. Six years ago, they told me to run. Tonight, they blocked the exit. I thought the night couldn't get worse—until I went home and found out the truth. My husband didn't just cheat on me. He gambled me away. He owes the Mercers millions, and he just offered me as the collateral. Now, I belong to them. They say they want to protect me. They say they want to ruin me for anyone else. Silas commands. Dante breaks. Julian corrupts. I thought I was walking into a prison, but as the walls close in, I realize the terrifying truth: I’m not the victim in this story. I’m the weapon they’ve been waiting for.

On the first night of our graduation trip, Richard Clark, the class representative, suggests that we find our match via room numbers. "Let your luck decide your fate! You'll get to stay in the same room with your partner regardless of gender! How exciting is this?" Throughout my four-year college life, I've been in an underground relationship with Faye Lister for three years. No one knows about our relationship at all. I dig out a ball from the box and wait for my turn to get matched. When it's Faye's turn, she claims that her number is seven. That's when Richard raises his voice. "The other person who gets Room 7 is… Xavier Jensen!" Xavier, the guy whom Faye had once pursued in a grand fashion, shoots her a smile immediately. Everyone cheers on them, claiming that even God wants them to be together. I'm the only one who doesn't say anything. No one knows that I've heard Richard and Faye having a secretive conversation before the start of the game. "Find the ball with a circular bump. That's the mark I've specifically left for you and Xavier." As I watch Faye approach Xavier and arrange his collar with scarlet cheeks, I find myself smiling as well. It turns out that I've wasted three years waiting for Faye to announce our relationship. This time, I decide to be the one leaving this relationship.

… Her pack had betrayed him and she needed to pay. She was going to pay! He let go of her hair and grabbed the back on her neck, his eyes trailed down to her exposed neck and collar bone. The princess dress she had on showed a lot of that caused him to gulp nervously. His twitched in his trousers, the butterflies in his stomach rose. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled her sweet pheromone. Reign quivered in fear. Electric sparks exploded in her body when she felt his lips brush against her collarbone, down to her that was exposed. “Please…” she cried, but he didn’t stop. He raised his hand and placed them on her firm , causing her to jolt in fear. He squeezed the left and circled her hidden in the fabric of the dress with his rough fingers. Pain seared through her as he kept squeezing her and trailing hot down her . Reign could only cry and wish that it would and soon. “Hermione Reign Angelis.” He called her full names as he backed away from her, his voice void of any emotions. Reign crawled backwards on her , trying to get away from the tyrant, but stopped when her back hit a hard surface behind her. It was the wall. There was definitely no running away from her oppressor. “Your parents orchestrated the assassination of my beloved mother and even after that, they have the audacity to deny it to my face…”. She is his mate turned slave… will he able to look past his hatred for her and see who the true enemy is?

I used to be a top ballet dancer. The year I was diagnosed with a spinal hemangioma, my boyfriend Julian Blackwood said, "Wherever you go, I go." We'd been together three years. He walked beside me as I went, step by step, from the most luminous dancer on that stage to a woman in a wheelchair. Every time the nerve pain hit and I collapsed, he was the one who lifted me off the floor. Every round of electrostim and acupuncture, he sat in the corridor outside the therapy room and waited for me to come out. Before I got sick, he promised me—the night I finished my final performance of Swan Lake, we'd sign the marriage license. He'd bought tickets for that show three months in advance. I never stood on that stage again. And the marriage license never came up. Until the morning I noticed the collar of his white dress shirt carried a smudge of lipstick that wasn't mine. I heard him on the balcony. A woman's voice on the other end. "Mr. Blackwood, you left your jacket at the hotel last night. I'll bring it over." I stared at that smear of red, and something in me snapped. I laughed. "Send me to Westbrook. The locked-down rehab facility. I don't want to drag you down anymore." Something flickered in his eyes—a brief, animal panic. Then he nodded. He thought I meant rest. He didn't know I'd already signed the papers to donate my body to science. I was going there to die.