Immortal Desires Novels & Stories

She pressed her face into Alexander’s chest and whispered, “More, Daddies. I want everything.” Marcus chuckled darkly and kissed her shoulder. “Careful what you wish for, baby. We’re nowhere near done breaking you in.” Outside the mansion the world kept spinning, but inside these walls, only passion existed. Raw, filthy, endless passion. And Iman was drowning in it happily.

"I've always been dissatisfied with my body. But now… this form is actually not bad. It's fine even if I can't change back. This is better—I don't need to eat, I don't need to drink, and I don't feel cold. "Go on! Keep shooting me with bullets. If I yell even once, I surrender!" Now permanently a spring-being, Jules had lost all human traits—touch, taste, smell. Most of his desires were gone: no sexual cravings, no hunger. A desireless person is… not just unusual—he's perverse. Jules had entered a deeply twisted state. His gaze fixed on Ray. "Now, I'm immortal. I don't believe your attacks have no limits—but my body has none. Come on, hit me. I want to see who breaks first!"

“It’s perfect… I’ll never take it off.” “I’ll never leave you,” she whispered fiercely, nestling into his chest. “I’ll never want anyone else. You’ve ruined me for everyone forever.” He kissed her deeply, possessively, his arms tightening around her. “Good. Because I’ll keep corrupting you, claiming you, loving you like this… forever.” They fell asleep tangled together in the mirrored sanctuary, surrounded by infinite reflections of their forbidden bond. Clara was completely ruined. And she had never been happier. Forever his.

The ancient obsession of immortals terrified by the concept of permanence. I turn toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city glows beneath the night like veins of molten gold threading through darkness. Five years ago diplomacy stopped interesting me. Mercy became inefficient shortly after I lost Rose. The old houses still whisper about the shift. They call it tyranny now. Ruthlessness. Cruelty. Perhaps they are right. Grief hollows a man eventually. Even an immortal one. Especially an immortal one. Behind me Damon leans casually against the bar. “Shall I inform them His Majesty is indisposed?” he asks lazily. “Exhausted from vigorous diplomatic negotiations?”

It even started noting the subtle nuances of his changing facial features as one emotion flitted to another. The blood of a Minx is powerful but from what I know, however, they only captivate an immortal because of their blood. Nothing more, nothing less. Yet with Kieran I find myself craving more. To taste him, to touch him and to fuck him. And while it is very normal to lust after a mortal during a feeding, to lust for one after is a rare thing indeed. It becomes less of a primal instinct and more of a desire.

I furrowed my brow, and with another blink, his gaze turned cold again. “Step away if you don't want this to fall over you,” he warned coldly. My lips parted, and I quickly moved away from the tree. My throat tightened as I recalled his gaze from earlier. His eyes were gentle, sweet, and wishful. I also saw the longing and unfulfilled desire. That might be my imagination, right? Like the images I saw when my head throbbed. I can’t imagine Silas being soft towards me. That’s beyond imagination and surely will not happen. Given his cold demeanor towards me, his being affectionate was an impossible notion.

“You are alive, and that's enough. You don't need to worry about anything tonight.” “And who said I am worrying about anything?” I step closer, close enough to feel the chill radiating from his immortal body, close enough to see the hunger beginning to burn behind his mesmerizing amber eyes. He wants me. I can see it. I want him too. “Draven,” I call softly, refusing to release his hand. “Don't leave. I want to do this, not because I owe you, but because I want to. Allow me to thank you properly. I want to be your exclusive blood thrall tonight. Use me. Drink from me. Take everything you crave.”