Eleven By Windsor Austin

‌She was ne‌⁠ver meant‌ to be hi⁠‌s Arya V​itale, t​he da⁠ughter of​ his sw​o​r‍​n enem​y was supp​osed t‌o be a bar​g⁠aining⁠ chip A p‍awn i​n a bloo‍d w‌a‌r. But‌ from‌ the mome‍nt Giova​nni D‍e-Sa‌ntis laid ey‍es​ on her​, he didn’t see a p‌awn… h​e saw hi So he too‌k her S​t⁠o⁠le⁠ her from her wed​d‍ing, force​d her into⁠ a cont‍r‌act marr‍⁠iage⁠,⁠ and br‍an‍d‍ed her w⁠ith his n​ame in ever​y way th‌at m⁠attered‌ To t⁠he wo‌rld, i⁠t was a b⁠us‍in‍ess stra⁠​tegy to him,​ it was an obsession. But sh⁠‍e is‍n‌’t t‍he f⁠ragile pri‍nces⁠s h⁠e‌ expect​ed‌. She’‌s sma​rt, sha‍r​p, hot-head​ed⁠, sassy, and far too goo⁠d a‌t ma​king hi‍m fee‍l things​‍ he buried long​ ago And when she runs‍‍ away he h​unts h‌er Becau‌s​e Giovanni doesn’‍t​ lose ​Not h​is em‌pire N​ot‌ hi⁠s‌ war ‍And never t‌he wo​m⁠an h‌e​‍’s‌ marked​ as his own. But some war​s ca​n’t be w‍on with bullets⁠. Some secrets⁠ re⁠fuse to stay buried And the dead‌l‌iest betrayal may not come from his enemies at a​ll… What happens when the​ one thing he can’t cont‌rol is the only th‌ing that co‍uld destroy him‍? And​ a w​ar that demand‍s blood… ev‌en if i‌t’‍s hers⁠.⁠ ⁠

"Now tell me, young lady, who wants you dead?" Nicholas asked as he stared intently at me. His words froze me in place. My eyes widened, and my heart raced uncontrollably in my chest. I looked at him, my eyes diverting to the blood trickling from his shoulder where he was hit by a bullet while trying to save me. "I... I don't know," I stammered, still bewildered by the events that had unfolded. Laura Dickson had endured an abusive relationship at the hands of her boyfriend Santos, to whom she felt indebted for assisting her in settling some debts. Eventually, she reaches the conclusion that she can no longer tolerate the relationship and flees, disregarding Santos' threats of ending her life should she ever leave him. At a charity ball event, she encounters Nicholas, a strikingly handsome and powerful billionaire, the head of Brandson mafia family, who saves her from a serial killer intent on shooting her. Nicholas takes it upon himself to provide her with protection at his covert hideout until the serial killer is captured. What will unfold when they discover that the serial killer was actually closer to them than they had presumed and was in fact not who they thought it was? How will Laura react when she uncovers a grave secret that will profoundly shake her foundations? And what will occur as Laura falls In love with Nicholas, a billionaire mafioso who only sees women as objects of sexual desires? Discover the answers within the gripping pages of the thrilling novel, "Bound by Passion."

"No... No, you can't..." The patient says his desire is a little too strong and wants me to use my body to help him for a medical checkup. He then makes me lose myself in the moment in just a few moves...

My name is Violet. I was the consigliere to the Leon mafia family in New York, and I wrote the rules of this city’s underworld myself. Yet, the man I had kept by my side for ten years, Drake Leon, was now trampling all over them. Ten years was more than enough time for a stray dog to grow into a wolf that can stand on its own. A decade ago, he was hacked to pieces by enemies on the streets of Brooklyn. Covered in blood, he crawled to me like a dying dog. I took him in. I put a gun in his hand. I taught him the rules of the mafia. Step by step, using my position as the Leon mafia family’s consigliere, I groomed him to become the boss of the Manhattan port district. Ten years later, he controlled the most valuable port under the Leon family for me, and for another woman, he framed her in standing grace. When that girl named Lina showed up pregnant, wearing the blue diamond necklace my mother left me, and sat in the seat that was supposed to be mine, I didn’t lose my temper. Instead, I had someone take the pathology report from the hospital, along with the child, seal them in a gift box, and deliver them to Drake’s new estate. Half an hour later, the study door was kicked open. He stormed in, drenched in night rain, carrying the scent of gunpowder. The barrel of his gun pressed straight against my forehead. “Violet.” He stared at me, his eyes bloodshot. “You touch her child, and I’ll make sure you’re buried with her.” I stayed seated by the fireplace. I didn’t move. I simply pushed a document to the center of the table. “Don’t rush into madness.” I looked up at him and continued, “As of fifteen minutes ago, I’ve frozen three warehouses under your name, two shipping routes, and seven offshore accounts.” Only then did his expression finally change. I smiled faintly, my voice soft. “Drake, you seem to have forgotten something. The reason for your accomplishments today isn’t because you know how to pull a trigger. It’s because I allowed you to live.”

During the height of the plague, Elizabeth is known for touching the dying without fear and for surviving longer than anyone should. The village calls her witch. Death calls her interesting. Malachor is a demon bound to plague and passing souls, ancient and cruel, intrigued by a healer who refuses to beg. When Elizabeth is condemned, thrown into a plague pit, and left to die, she calls out, not to God, but to the darkness watching her. He answers. Bound to a demon of death, Elizabeth survives… and is slowly claimed. Desire becomes devotion. Mercy becomes sin. A dark historical fantasy romance of plague, power, and forbidden surrender where love corrupts, salvation fails, and Hell is the only vow kept. TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING: This story contains mature themes and content intended for adult audiences (18+) Reader discretion is advised. It includes moments of violence, coercion and domination themes, sexual content and dark erotic elements, emotional trauma and moral corruption, blasphemous themes involving demons, faith, and damnation

Dorian’s eyes darkened with something dangerous as he watched her reaction. “You think you can stand on your own?” he whispered, his voice low and thick with intent. “ If you think is possible then, Prove it, little hybrid.” Before she could respond, his lips descended on hers. The kiss was fierce, almost punishing, as though he was trying to dominate her through sheer force. But what surprised Irwin more was her own response. Her body acted on its own, her lips moving against his, her hands gripping his arms as if she couldn’t bear to let go. Dorian groaned softly as his hands roamed down her body, pulling her closer. His touch was rough, possessive, and yet it ignited something deep within her that she had never felt before. Irwin gasped as he kissed her harder, his hands sliding under her clothes, brushing against her skin.

The night my boyfriend and I celebrate our first anniversary, we get into an accident. My soul travels through time and ends up ten years in the future. Here, I see that my boyfriend and I have married and started a family. It's the future I've dreamed of. However, it seems that I'm out of a job, and I've given up on my dream. I struggle to make it through endless days of my boyfriend's ice-cold treatment. Ultimately, I see myself sitting on the edge of a building's roof after falling deep into postpartum depression. When I open my eyes again, I see my boyfriend's panicked face…

After the real son, Asher Vale, was brought back, everything in our house became tied to drawing lots. The chef of the day, who would have to cook a particular person's preferred dishes, had to be decided by drawing lots. Even our parents' kisses and hugs were chosen the same way. I always drew the short stick. The long stick, by default, belonged to Asher. He never had to do anything to receive our parents' love. Whenever I felt it was unfair and wanted to cry, Mom would scold me sharply, "I bought the lot-drawing box because I was afraid you'd feel hurt. I wanted to be fair to both of you. If you want something, decide it yourselves. Your father and I won't interfere. If you can't draw the long stick, you can only blame your bad luck." So I began practicing every day, shaking the box diligently, over and over, in hopes that one day, it would help me earn my parents' love. Unfortunately, for ten years, I never once drew the long stick. Until my birthday. Asher wanted to go to the amusement park, and Mom once again told us to decide by drawing lots. I secretly glued the two short sticks together and handed them to Mom, hoping to keep her with me. She slapped me hard across the face, screaming that I was cheating and disobedient. Then she stormed out of the house with Asher. When I fell to the ground, the short stick stabbed deep into my neck. 'I'm sorry, Mom. Next time, I'll work harder. Next time, I'll definitely draw the long stick.'

"In the game of the rich and ruthless; where lines of humanity blurs, blood was inevitable, manipulation was ensured, and betrayal was a norm. You either become a pawn or a player." To the world, Chiara Marino was an art gallery owner with a perfect luxurious life. What people didn't know was a monster she was turned into with no choice but to embrace it. Carmelo Conti is an ambitious and ruthless billionaire who valued his people and family. He is calm and collected, until you touch where you shouldn't have. A forced marriage to a man far worse than her stepfather threatens her life purposes. To them it was just a game. But they forgot that she was a made monster. And monsters don't give a fuck! What happens when Chiara decides to create her own fate?

He has made it crystal clear that I’m not to call him ‘boss’ except on certain occasions, like right now, when his dominating gaze carries a hint of playfulness. I can’t help but smile every time he gets like this, all lovey-dovey, but when he whispers in my ears asking me to go on an adventure with him, it is like an invitation to a forbidden feast and the thought sends a shiver down my spine which unlike you would think, is almost painful. Maybe this is because I have been on an adventure with him for as far as I want to recollect. My memories, if you peeked inside, would be overflowing with every moment with him, each one a brushstroke painted with his boldness and my, well, let’s call it a touch of recklessness. I now wear a souvenir, a mark etched onto my soul. It’s like a silent agreement, a reminder that our fates are tangled, intertwined like climbing vines. He’s the puppet master, my very own Mr. Strings, and every twist and turn of his whims gets woven into the fabric of my being. Maybe you find that hard to believe, like something out of a fairytale. But trust me, my darling, as I unravel the threads of our adventure, one by one, you’ll understand. With each turn and twist, you’ll find yourself hooked, a willing captive in the captivating narrative of our lives, possibly harnessed in the labyrinth of our love, where danger dances with delight, and fate is etched in the footprints of a love like no other. So buckle up, dear reader, for this isn’t a mere tale, it’s a thrill ride, a love song made of equal parts fear and freedom.