Glass Maiden

On the day my dad, the Don of the Capone family, comes to the orphanage to take me home, I show up in a tactical helmet and a bulletproof vest. "I'm not going home with you. You're definitely doing this to trick me into getting married to a perverted old geezer in a marriage alliance. I bet my adopted sister has made preparations to start fake-crying anytime by loading up on her eyedrops." My dad is amused, to say the least. "Why would any of that happen? Silvia is nothing but welcoming you to our home! Also, our family isn't a lowly organization that deals with human trafficking." But I refuse to believe my dad at all. On the way home, I keep typing something on my phone. My mom, the Donna, leans over curiously. "Are you writing a diary entry?" "Nope. I'm writing tips on 'How to Survive the Mafia.'" 1) My food will definitely be poisoned. 2) If I get close to a staircase, I'll definitely get pushed down the stairs. 3) I'll get framed for something that I've never done before. My parents swear to me that none of the things I've written will ever happen. They tell me that my adopted sister, Silvia Capone, has a great personality, and things are amicable in the family. However, everything changes when Silvia brings me a glass of juice before lunchtime and insists on watching me drink it. Instead, I dump the juice into a nearby vase of flowers. Just as my parents are about to scold me for wasting the juice, smoke begins drifting from the flowers inside the vase. Then, they start wilting rapidly. I calmly leave a bright red checkmark behind the "poison" tip. As my parents stare at the dead flowers, they can feel color draining from their faces. "You should send the juice to a chem lab for analysis."

Kyra Hopkins doesn’t believe in marriage and long term relationships. She co-manages her dream job with her two best friends Lily and Bipasha. With the two worried about her no-dating state, they hit a club with plans to GET KYRA LAID. In a White tiny dress they leave her in a bar nurturing a glass of water and pondering what exactly her newest client’s birthday party theme should be. Horses or cars. That’s what she voices out to the sinfully hot man who took the seat beside hers. And he’s got Kyra’s feet feeling like they were lit on fire. Worst of all, she got what it meant to have butterflies flutter in your stomach walls. Best of all, the man knows what she wants and he wants it too and more. Kyra got in for the ride of her life, planned for a weekend because remember? Kyra doesn’t do long term. But then, neither is Nicholai Damien Ivanov or Sin as he’s more popularly known as into long term relationships. One night stands or at a stretch a weekend fling. Why does the angel in white getting stuck in his head and refusing to leave? Why couldn’t his PI track her from the little information she dropped about herself. The questions haunted his nights and refused to leave until he caught sight of his Angel in a black dress on another man’s arm, then his sister hugged her referring to her as Kyra while his Angel introduced herself to him as April. Sin got his answer and meant to show her how much they weren’t over yet. In fact they hadn’t even begun. It was just the beginning of Nicholai Ivanov’s obsession with his one-night stand.

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.

I stepped closer. Close enough to smell his cologne—cedarwood, leather, and power. My hand moved. Smooth, practiced. The pistol slide from under the apron into my palm. I raised it fast. But before I could pull the trigger— BANG. Not my shot. A scream tore through the restaurant as another man launched himself toward Romano’s table, blade flashing. Another assassin. What the hell— Romano didn’t flinch. He shoved the table forward, knocking the attacker off balance. The blade scraped across wood, not skin. I ducked instinctively as the room erupted into chaos. Gunfire cracked. Glass exploded. People screamed and dove for cover. “Get him out—NOW!” one of the guards barked. I aimed for the second attacker. Didn’t even hesitate. One shot—head. Gone. The guard saw me. Confusion flashed in his eyes. Then rage. I ran. I weaved between overturned chairs, plates, and screaming bodies. The smell of blood was real now, thick in the air. One of the guards grabbed me. I slammed my elbow into his ribs, twisted, and brought the butt of my gun down on his skull. He dropped like a sack of bricks. Out. I had to get out. My boots pounded the floor as I tore through the narrow hallway. But then— “Elisa.” His voice stopped me cold. I turned. Antonio Romano stood in the middle of the carnage, suit untouched, blood spattered behind him like art. His eyes were on me. And he was smiling. It was darker. Slower. Like a hunter seeing something worth chasing. Somehow, he knew who I was. “Interesting,” he said softly, tilting his head. “They sent you.” I didn’t answer. I ran. But that voice followed me. He knew my name. And he let me go. This wasn’t over. It had just begun.

Lena’s voice trembled, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I...I made a mistake.” Grayson’s cold laughter cut through the air. He stepped closer, his towering presence suffocating. “A mistake?” His tone was sharp, dangerous. “Dropping a glass is a mistake. What you did?” He leaned in, his breath brushing her ear. “That was a choice.” Lena flinched, her chest tightening. “I didn’t know...” “You knew exactly what you were doing.” He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his icy gaze. “And now you’re here, begging for something. Redemption? Love?” His lips curled into a cruel smirk. “Don’t insult me.” “I don’t want anything from you,” she shot back, her voice faltering. Grayson’s soft, mocking laugh made her stomach twist. “You always want something, Lena. What is it now? A second chance to ruin me?” Her heart pounded. The man before her was no longer the one she thought she’d left behind...he was powerful, ruthless, and untouchable. And she feared she’d lost him forever. *** Lena married Grayson for his potential, believing she could manipulate him to secure her family’s fortune. Once the deal was done, she discarded him without remorse. But time has changed everything. Grayson has returned, no longer desperate, but a powerful man who has made it clear he wants nothing to do with her. Regret weighs heavy on Lena, but her reasons for seeking him now remain unclear. Is it guilt? Love? Or something far more dangerous? Grayson’s world is ruthless, offering no room for second chances. Yet, beneath his hardened exterior, a question lingers: Can he forgive her, or will he ensure she pays the ultimate price?

BLURB They sold me for five million dollars but two wolves paid ten million, and now I belong to both of them for six months. My name is Beatrice, three days ago my mate sold me at auction to pay gambling debts he created while I secretly ran our pack and kept us from collapsing. He called me defective because I couldn’t give him children. That was his lie to hide his own failures and I let him spread it because the truth would make me a target for something worse than a bad marriage. Now I stand in a billionaire's penthouse owned by Vincent who bought me for revenge and Christopher who bought me because we were friends when we were children before I disappeared to escape a fate I would rather die than accept. Vincent treats me like a fascinating problem to solve and Christopher treats me like fragile glass that might shatter and neither one understands that I already broke years ago and put myself back together. Six months with two wolves who both want to own me in different ways, six months to plan what happens when the contract ends, six months to remember that before I was property I was a person who survived impossible things and I can survive this too. But somewhere between business dinners where Vincent watches me like I might be worth more than he paid and late nights where Christopher reminds me what it felt like to be seen as human, something dangerous is happening. I am starting to want things beyond survival and wanting things means having things to lose. They think they bought a broken Luna who will be grateful for rescue. They are about learning that surviving taught me to be something more dangerous than broken.

The sound of the liquor bottle breaking echoed against the walls of that room, making her flinched. She gazed into those intoxicated piercing green eyes hovering over her. "Leave from my room right now, Damien," her sapphire orbs filled with tears of terror, whereas her grip tightened on the towel covering her wet bare body but the person before her didn't follow her words. A shiver ran down her spine when he placed his both palms on the glass door behind her, caging her completely. "We will talk tomorrow when you will be sober up but please leave now," she attempted to push him away but her body froze when he pinned both of her wrists above her head, resulting in the towel slipping from her body. Her naked body trembled, both in fear and cold but the blazing rage in those bloodshed green eyes flamed up her being. She tried to wiggle out from his hold until…. "Do you still love him, Zia?" His question stabbed inside her heart like a dagger. Her tears of fear turned into anger. After she submitted every single inch of her to him last night, he was still asking her that question. "What if I said, yes…I still love Dylan then?" She challenged him but immediately hissed in pain when he dug his fingers in her tender skin. "Then I will kill him right in front of you," his cavernous voice husked against her lips but his words glossed her eyes more. How can he be so cruel that he didn't hesitate before thinking about killing his own brother? Her heart clenched when he pressed his lips against her and whispered those words in her mouth. "Because I will be the only person to ruin you in my love, Zia Damien Karlson,"

"I only want you, Theia. Always have always will and this shall never change. How could I ever want another when I possess the one I solely exist for?" "Phobos," I call his name fondly a need to hug him and breathe in his calming scent surfaces. "I do not wish to treat you like you are made of glass because you aren't. Your body was made for me and it can handle everything I choose to give it. And this I will prove it to you." "When?" I ask breathlessly as he ultimately turns around to meet my curious eyes. Golden rings outline his irises his beast announcing his presence and they stand as one before me. A wicked smile paints his face with a flash of canine displayed to me. A promise he gives that I will be ruthlessly devoured. "When I fuck you senseless." ~~~ After years of excruciating loneliness, Phobos approached me. A frightening beast, my soulmate who emerged from within the bounds of a ruthless storm. The male I yearned for. He caught me off guard and I was under the spell he cast through his ocean eyes. A spell I couldn't defeat and that very moment I knew I was in trouble. The second our eyes met I knew he would bring me endless heartache. We were childhood friends, him and I. Phobos the gentle juvenile I grew up with vanished and was replaced by a cold-hearted barbarian, he terrified me as he killed many with a blink of his eyes where his beast was often in control surging forward consuming his senses. They were equals. How can I connect with a beast like him? How could I make him call me his? How can I love my childhood friend who has become a monster?

“You left me! You made your choice and it wasn't me.” I spit the accusation at him, trying to hide the devastation in my tone. “Your loss. Now she's ours! Ours to taste, ours to touch, ours to fuck.” Asher stakes his claim, he and Aspen wrapping their arms around me possessively. But Mason isn't cowered, stepping into me until I can feel his warm breath on my face. “I know you're hurt. You're angry. You blame me for abandoning you. But just so we're clear, this, them,“ He growls, snarling at the twins, “it changes nothing. You're mine, little one! Mine! I’ll take your pain, your anger, even your hatred. But I'll never let you go!” Elena Stone was the Glass Lake pack princess, doted on by everyone she knew. And no one adored her more than the Beta's son, Mason Cross. So when he abandons her, breaking his promise to never leave her side, she's devastated by his betrayal. When Mason returns five years later, Elena is no longer the little girl he knew. She's a gorgeous woman with a fiery spirit. And she's already moved on. Mason's desperate to make her his, but twins Asher and Aspen insist she belongs to them. Will he be able to win her back? And if he does, will he have to share? With a killer on the loose and a target on her back, Elena just might need all three of them to protect her. Also check out: An Unwanted Fate- Completed A Tangled Fate: Bound By Her Betas- Completed A Cruel Fate: Her Gamma's Regret-Completed The warrior's Wild Wolf-Completed {Follows A Cruel Fate) Resisting The Alpha Triplets-Completed Her Heartbroken Alpha-Novella Completed (Follows RTAT)

I'm a mafia princess with crippling social anxiety. My fiancé, Rocco Falcone, is our family's consigliere. He’s the exact opposite of me—extroverted, effortlessly charming, a master at reading and bending people. He's supposed to be my protector. My only link to the outside world. Tonight was the charity gala for my late mother. I was hiding in the darkest corner, a mask covering my face. Rocco was supposed to give the speech. My speech. He never showed. [Emergency. Sorry. Skip the speech, I know you hate the attention. Driver will take you home after the auction. Don't wait up.] Then I saw Livia’s new post. It was a picture of Rocco, draping his suit jacket over her shoulders. He was looking down at her, his eyes full of a tenderness he never showed me. The caption was a gut punch: [No prom date, so my big bro saved the day! Couldn't have done it without him! ] The cold hit me. Bone deep. He ditched a memorial for my dead mother... to take his stepsister to a university dance? The guests began whispering and sneering that I, the famously awkward, socially crippled princess, couldn’t even force a word out. I stared at the whiskey I’d ordered for him. The ice in my glass was melting. Just like the hope in my heart. When I got back to our empty penthouse, my screen was lit up with missed calls and texts from Rocco. The last one came in thirty minutes ago: [Aurelia, trouble at Livia's prom. You know how she gets. Couldn't leave her. Your mother's gala means everything. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Next time will be perfect. Trust me.] I didn't reply. An engagement held together by "next time." Was a promise like that even worth keeping?