Incarnate Devotion

The day before my wedding, I went to our cathedral early to get familiar with the place. Instead, I found my fiancé and my stepsister, Isabella fucking on the altar. Our altar. I caught them. He didn't even apologize and just threw me out into the storm. I collapsed in the pouring rain. That’s when he found me. Alistair, the Vampire Prince. He moved like a god through the storm. He pulled me from the mud, and gave me a palace. He told the world I was his soulmate. The one he’d spent centuries searching for. His one and only. For five years, his devotion made me the envy of the supernatural world. I thought I was the one exception in his eternal life. Until I found his secret room. My fingers brushed against an ancient scroll. The script was written in blood. The first line was her name: Isabella. Beneath it, in Alistair's own hand: “Absolute priority. Above all else.” Underneath was a healer's log I’d never seen before. A vampire's healing log. The date was from the night I found out I was pregnant. The night I was attacked by werewolves. They brought me back to the castle, covered in blood. The healers never came for me. I woke up alone. The baby was gone. Our child. His blood, my blood—gone. And my clothes were soaked in what was left of it. I cleaned every trace of it. When he came home, I broke down in his arms. I never told him. I couldn’t bear for him to feel the pain I felt. Now I understood. That same night, Isabella was also being attacked by werewolves. And Alistair’s order to his council was: “Send every healer. Isabella is the priority.” My heart stopped. Despair was a poison in my veins. “If I was never the one... then you can keep your eternity. I want no part of it.”

18+ “Please.. I will pay the rest of the money I owed, don’t do—“  He didn’t let me finish, and so abruptly his finger clipped on my hardened-red-abused nipples, so hard that I yelped out as pain reverberated through my being.  And he didn’t flinch. “You dare?” he said flatly. “The likes of you don’t owe me money.” His grip remained merciless, “Your life is mine now. Nothing of worth. Just my property.” I nodded frantically, tears spilling, my body shaking — but he didn’t stop. …. Ruyi signed her husband’s ten million dollars mafia debt to herself without reading the fine print. Ruyi Wynter thought love meant sacrifice. Orphaned young, married at eighteen to the boy who once protected her, she worked herself raw to pay a debt that was never truly hers… until he betrayed her and shattered everything she believed in. He cheated with his co workers, constantly abused her emotionally. Yet she stayed. because leaving meant a miserable lifetime of debt. Until she was captured by Lucien Blackwood, the billionaire mafia lord feared across the world, Ruyi becomes collateral in a war fueled by blood, grief, and obsession.  Lucien doesn’t want her money. He wants repayment far more intense than cash. Cold. Cruel and Unforgiving. Lucien sees her love and devotion to her useless husband as an insult to him, after her very husband played a part in the death of his beloved fiancée.  Ruyi must survive this man who despises her—until loathing blurs into something far more sinful…. her soft moans.  Disclaimer: This book contains dark erotic themes, consensual non-consensual dynamics, emotional manipulation, and explicit adult situations. mature readers only (18+).

For five years, Vixen loved and waited for her mate’s devotion, only to find he had already given his heart to another—her own stepsister. Betrayed and stripped of everything, she watches the child she raised choose another, and her world crumbles. But Vixen is not done. From heartbreak rises fury, from loss power, and from betrayal emerges a woman determined to make them pay. The man who once rejected her will fall to his knees, desperate to reclaim her. But Vixen has already found someone else: a man who sees her for who she is, and will never let her go. 🔥SNEAK PEEK🔥 Vixen felt his gaze before his hand closed around her wrist, dragging her into the shadowed alcove beyond the ballroom lights. “You keep looking at him.” The accusation burned low and dangerous. Her breath faltered as his body boxed her against the marble wall. “He was part of my life,” she whispered. His jaw tightened. “Was.” Across the hall, Kael laughed with Olaine. Vixen forced a smile. This should be interesting. But that smile was his breaking point. His fingers slid beneath her chin, forcing her gaze back to him — possessive, unyielding, furious in a way that made her pulse stutter. “You wear my name now,” he said roughly. “Your eyes don’t follow another man.” Her lips parted to argue. He kissed her before the words could form. Not gentle. Not patient. The kiss stole her breath, crushed her protest, branded heat into her veins as his hand tightened at her waist, holding her against him like a warning the entire world could read. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his voice raw and dark. “Let him watch,” he whispered. “Let him see exactly who you belong to.”

Everyone knew Elio Carbone, Don of the Carbone family, was a cold-hearted womanizer. He had one rule: never sleep with the same woman twice. But for me, he broke it. The first day after our breakup, he stood outside the old Bianchi estate for a day and a night, his entire security detail in tow, just to win me back. The second day, he flew to Sicily and bought the deed to my family's ancestral estate at auction for triple its value, and had it delivered to me. The third day, he tattooed my favorite flower, the lily, over his heart. The tattoo artist said he refused any anesthetic and didn't make a sound. Later, at a banquet for the Five Families, in front of all the other Dons, he sliced his palm and made a blood oath. He swore loyalty only to Eleonora Bianchi for the rest of his life; if he broke his vow, he would pay with his life. After a year of his relentless pursuit, his devotion finally wore me down, and I agreed to take him back. I truly believed him then. That Elio truly loved me. Until one night. He took me to an underground racetrack to broker a deal with an ally. But in the roaring crowd, I saw a girl, trembling and crying, her clothes in tatters. Ava was shoved to the starting line. She was the wager for the death race. One look was all it took for Elio's face to darken. The next second, he dropped his hand from my waist and, without a word, walked toward the track entrance. I stood frozen, watching his back as he disappeared into the driver's seat of a modified sports car. I used to wake up crying, terrified he would lose his life in one of these reckless races. He had smashed his trophies, burned his marker for the illegal track, and sworn to God he would never again enter such a life-or-death gamble. My hand drifted to my stomach, covering the secret I hadn't yet had the chance to share. His blood oath was broken. And so was I.