Fierce Perilous Stakes Novels & Stories

"Looks like my girlfriend got a little bit faster than you." That was the first thing he said and I looked at Sophia's face, trying to gauge her reaction. It gave nothing away, if anything, it was blank, almost eerie. "Well, you can't say. I'm winning this year sha." She replied grimly, her face set into a grimace. "Your determination ehn. It's just sport na." "What's worth doing at all is worth doing well." "Babe ehn. Why can't you just follow Adam's principle? In life, we win some, we lose some."

“You’re doing all of this on false hope.” I breathe quietly and shake my head. “No,” I say quietly. “It’s leverage. And I know that I'm playing a dangerous game, but every game right now is dangerous. This one just happens to be the one that’s in our favor.” “In our favor?” Marcellus repeats, incredulous. “Yes," I say quietly. “I believe a wolf of his caliber would be of use to us.” Marcellus watches me for a long time, and finally, he nods, though not in agreement, but in reluctant understanding. He exhales again, the action taking longer this time taking. He then walks towards one of the chairs and puts his hand on its back.

feel like a blunt instrument. "The Eastern Archipelago," I murmured. "The shifters of the Jade-Mist. They were the ones the First King feared most. Not because they were strong, but because they were Perfect." Félix was at my side, his emerald aura pulled tight, his daggers humming in their sheaths. "Perfect is just another word for boring, Little Bird. But these spikes? They’re turning the sea into a goddamn cathedral of ice. If they reach the Heart-Tree, they’ll lock the roots in a geometric cage."

The clicking and cocking of the metal echoes in the room. I raise my hands in surrender, standing up. Sergei scans my face. My smile is unwavering, yet my hands are raised in surrender. "Funny how you just violated neutral ground." I smirk at him and, almost like clockwork, men in suits barge in, their shoes stomping on the marbled floor, creating a rhythm of fear and pandemonium. Guns are cocked and raised at Sergei and his men. I drop my hands and button my suit. "The Establishment respects its rules a lot, kid. You'd better start learning them—the easy way, that is."

Please don't tell me I sprained my ankle here? "Your Highness!" Angelo called. He immediately jumped off his horse with Saint. "Are you alright?" He asked with a soft voice. I guess he's trying to sound calm in this situation. "I sprained my ankle," I said. Saint looked my ankle and gently lifted it. "Ow!" He set it down. "It’s sprained alright." "I'm going to carry you to my horse, okay?" He said and I nodded. When he was about to lift me, there was a gunshot. I closed my eyes and ducked down. When I opened them, Saint was in front me, his rifle in his hands, firing at someone or some people in front of us.

she pointed into the field of punishment, “In there— The hollow of fears?” Stefan asked nervously, “We— can't go in there... It's called the hollow of fears for a reason, I doubt we can even get close enough to the blazing flames,” “I can control the flames, remember,” “Five minutes with Cerberus and you think you're some fire controlling princess? Are you even listening to what I am saying! If we go in there... It isn't a certainty that we'll come out— alive,”

he said, “she should be considered a potential risk.” The words weren’t shouted. They didn’t need to be. They spread anyway. Fast. Through space. Through the people who hadn’t fully left. Through the silence that followed. Darius didn’t interrupt. Didn’t shut it down. Didn’t confirm it either. But his silence…that was enough. The elder straightened. Then said it clearly. “For the safety of Ironfang…” A pause. Then.. “Kaelira Vale is to be considered a threat to pack stability.”

“Stakes are a cage—Veyra’s here.” Mara crouched by a stake, brown eyes blazing, dagger tracing a rune, frost and blood smearing her blade. “It’s feeding,” she hissed, voice low, glancing at Sam. “Blood’s too fresh—someone’s bleeding now.” Ember snarled, fierce. Hunt it, Mara—cut its roots. Her palm scar burned, guilt flaring—Milo’s blood, now this monolith’s, a weight she carried.

The scientist in her screamed that this was an opportunity that could not be missed. “Fine,” she conceded, her voice sharp as breaking glass. “Then I’m going with you.” A chorus of protests erupted. “Catherine, no!” from Ben. “Ms. Sterling, it’s too dangerous,” from Marcus. She held up a hand, silencing them all. Her eyes were locked on Jack’s. “This is not a negotiation. It is a risk assessment. The Fenris-Rage is a new form of biotechnology. Its analysis falls under the purview of the Aegis Project’s lead director. That’s me. Furthermore,” she added, her voice becoming colder, more detached, as if she were discussing a stock portfolio, “you, Jack, are currently the single most valuable ass

"Beg." Defiance warred need, hazel locking his volcanic. "Earn it, stalker." But hips canted invitation, and he surged home hilt-deep one thrust conquering, filling stretch burn exquisite. Pace built piston savage—hips slamming mahogany ass into silk, his growls Japanese filth punctuating slaps skin. "Mine to ruin. Tight—kuso, perfect."