Dare To Live Series Novels & Stories

Jace Steadman. My best friend’s father. Older. Controlled. Quiet in a way that makes my pulse stutter. A man who never looks twice at anyone… Except this time, he looked at me. One glance at my ruined makeup and shaking breath, and suddenly he felt too close. Too warm. Too dangerous. His voice was gentle when everyone else had been cruel. And when he sat beside me beneath the glow of the fire, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years: Wanted. Not sweetly. Not politely. But with a quiet, restrained hunger that made my heart slam against my ribs. To distract me from the pain—and to stop himself from touching me—we made a game of it: Twelve days. Twelve dares. No rules… except the ones we couldn’t stop breaking. A whispered challenge in the dark became a dare. A dare became a touch that lingered too long. A touch became a pull neither of us knew how to resist. He shouldn’t crave me. I shouldn’t crave him back. But the more we tried to stay respectable, the more our restraint fell apart. The lodge turned into a minefield of temptation—Christmas lights, stolen glances, near-kisses that burned hotter than the fire. Jace wasn’t just a man I wanted. He became the man I couldn’t stop fighting—and falling—for. If anyone finds out, my life falls apart. His reputation shatters. Everything explodes. But desire doesn’t care about consequences. And this Christmas, I’m done being careful. Done being quiet. Done pretending I don’t want the man who looks at me like I’m the first real taste of life he’s had in years. Twelve days. Twelve dares. One forbidden man I can’t walk away from… even if he ruins me.

My sister-in-law, Nicky Preston, is stuck in a deep pit. I'm risking my own life by getting myself lowered into the pit with nothing but a rope around my waist just to save her. As soon as I tie another coil of rope around Nicky's waist, I feel my own rope going loose. When I raise my head, I actually witness my husband, Scott Preston, cutting my rope. His childhood friend, Tricia Connell, grins from ear to ear at me. "Do it!" Scott's bodyguards begin dumping sand into the pit. Apparently, they intend to bury us alive! I contact Scott immediately with my walkie-talkie. "Scott, your sister and I are still inside the pit!" Scott just scoffs at me in return. "Three years ago, you left Tricia's younger brother stuck in the ruins for five whole days in favor of saving other people after that earthquake happened! Now, it's your turn to pay off this life debt!" Tricia squeezes out more tears at that moment. "It's all thanks to you that Jimmy has finally gotten his revenge, Scott!" As the sand begins covering my feet, I scream into the walkie-talkie, "Scott Preston, your actual sister really is stuck in this pit!"

I have a rule that I stick to at all times. Every year, I will only host three livestreams. I accept and welcome everyone who joins my livestream. I don't care about the variety of requests made. On top of that, I don't charge anyone anything. As long as I agree to one's request, I'll definitely fulfill it no matter what they want. For the past three years, I've stuck to this rule, and I've never broken it. Because of that, every time my livestream starts, hundreds of thousands of viewers will instantly join my livestream. It's the third livestream this time, marking it the final livestream of the year. As soon as I begin the livestream, numerous comments begin filling up the comment section. The user who's lucky enough to score a chance to communicate with me on my livestream is a woman in her 40s. Her sideburns have already gone gray, and her eyes are sunken. She can be seen holding up a child's photo. "Connor, my son has gone missing for 20 years. Please help me find him. I'll sell my house. Heck, I'll do anything you say!" The comment section instantly goes wild. "Oh my god! What a pitiful mother!" "She's willing to sell everything she has just to find her child! Connor, you must help her!" "If you refuse to help this woman, who else are you going to help then, Connor?" I stare at the woman's face for three long seconds. That's when I feel an inexplicable chill running down my spine. Without hesitation, I close off the communication portal from the woman. "I refuse."

After four years of marriage, James Lawson, who had never posted anything on social media, unexpectedly updated his status: "What an adorable little foodie!" The attached photo showed a young woman wearing pink cat ears, eating at a Korean BBQ restaurant. Her cheeks were flushed red from the spicy food as she stuck out her tongue. It was Sophie Jones, a new content creator at his company. Within a minute, our mutual friend commented: "Dude, you forgot to switch accounts!" Just like that, James's new post disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, only to show up moments later on Sophie's feed. Then James's name lit up my phone screen. In the past, I would have already taken screenshots and called him first to confront him. It would have inevitably ended in a heated argument. But this time, I calmly watched his call go to voicemail without answering.

My ex-wife, Erica Scarver, who's the head nurse of the hospital, devotes her efforts into saving an ICU patient. Meanwhile, I, the hospital dean, just start a livestream calmly. A few minutes later, the patient is out of the critical state. But Erica collapses instantly because she contracts the virus instead. "Hurry up and save your ex-wife! She's now infected because there's a hole in her protective suit! She's in a critical condition right now!" The medical staff looks at me worriedly. After all, I'm the most renowned medical expert in the entire hospital. But I remain unmoved. "Why should I save her? Don't you know that I've just wrapped up a surgery, so I can't enter the quarantine zone at all?"

It all began with a single post about canceling a food delivery order. Overnight, I became the internet's punching bag. Thousands of vicious messages flooded my inbox, filled with photoshopped memorials urging me to die. They doxxed my family, plastered my personal details across shady websites, and used AI to create obscene images of me, spreading them in vile chat groups. They spread lies about my income, claiming it came from illicit sources, and accused me of carrying diseases. I didn't call the police or block the messages. Instead, I read every hateful word before singling out the 100 worst offenders. Every day, I sent each one a luxurious meal: Boston lobster, Australian wagyu, the works. Each delivery came with a simple note: [Thank you for your hard work.]

When Tristan Pierce falls in love with the 99th woman he's met online, I heave a mental sigh of relief. He gazes at me as he passes a divorce agreement to me. "Serena, I'm sorry for falling for someone else. She makes me feel something that you've never made me feel before." I just stare at him with teary eyes as I utter the same old words any phony will say. "I'm the one who failed to take care of you. I'll be fine as long as you're happy." Having noticed how pitiful I look, Tristan transfers 50 million dollars into my account at once. When I notice the automated text sent from my bank regarding the transaction that I've just received, I do my best to suppress my smile. After all, this is my 99th fake identity. The three-year contract that I've signed with Tristan's older brother, Graham Pierce, is coming to an end. Finally, my loveless relationship with Tristan shall come to an end.

Lennox never meant to lie. But when her college reunion turned into a smug parade of successful husbands and million-dollar engagement rings, the words tumbled out before she could stop them. She was engaged. And when they demanded a name, the only one that came to mind was her billionaire best friend of five years. Ashford Winslow. Cornered, tipsy, and spiraling, Lennox did the only thing she could think of, she called him for backup. An hour later, Ashford strolled into the reunion like he owned the room, a custom million-dollar ring in his pocket and a possessive glint in his eyes. He slid the ring onto her finger with a charming smile. “Baby, you forgot your engagement ring, so I thought I’d bring it to you, and let everyone know who you belong to.”

When I drink the amber-colored poisonous wine, I can hear the joyful melody of a toast song coming from the manor. The wedding between Emanuela Romano and my ex-fiance, Benedetto Martini, is being held there right now. The elderly butler, Vincenzo Romano, puts away the wine glass with a blank expression. The way he speaks is as somber as one sounds when they give a speech at a funeral. "You know the Don's will very well, Ms. Andreotti. Five years are officially up, yet neither Mr. Andreotti, Mr. Martini, nor Dr. Foscari is willing to pledge their loyalty to you via the blood vow. According to the rules, you must take your own life within seven days. "The Don had left the Ashwine to you as a means of protecting… what little pride you have." Scorching pain begins spreading from my throat. I just smile at Vincenzo in return. Pride? Does a bastard spawn of a loose Iernian woman deserve to retain pride of any sort in the cruel Andreotti family? I begin making my way toward the banquet hall, which is brightly lit. As I walk past the shimmering waters of the pond in the family garden, I can tell that the waters are insanely cold. Then again, nothing is as cold as my icy heart right now. After taking a deep breath, I fall face-first into the pond… only to feel an iron-clad grip wrenching me backward. As such, I collapse onto the lawn heavily. My older brother, Alessandro Andreotti, has bits of grass covering his expensive suit. Disgust is written all over his handsome face. "Eva!" he grits out through his teeth, his voice lowered. "Must you spoil the mood on Emanuela's big day?" He then scoots closer to me, his alcohol-tinged breath fanning over my face. "You want to die, huh? Go ahead and do that, but can you die somewhere further? Don't stain the Andreotti land!" Alessandro turns to walk in the direction of the radiant lights, leaving me on the lawn, completely covered in mud. I can feel the countdown of my lifespan burning my insides. Seven days… I only have seven days to live. Meanwhile, my very own brother wants me to die somewhere further away.

I was his mate. He rejected me. Then he buried me alive. Christina Black was nothing a wolfless omega no one protected. Until the day she discovered she was fated to Alpha Kael Moore. But instead of claiming her, he chose power. Framed for treason, rejected before the entire pack, and sentenced to death, Christina should have died that night. She didn’t. She came back. Stronger. Colder. Untouchable. Now a powerful Beta with something ancient and dangerous inside her, Christina returns to the very pack that destroyed her only to find Kael on his knees, his pack dying, and the only cure… is her. He once buried her. Now he has to beg her. But revenge isn’t simple when the bond between them refuses to break and this time, she’s the one holding the power.