Jagged Ghost Blade Novels & Stories

In my past life, I was a rare treasure: the only she-wolf capable of bearing a pureblood werewolf heir. That singular gift made me a prize, claimed by Leon, the Alpha of the formidable Silvermoon Pack in North America. Leon's ambition burned with the desire for a child. A pureblood heir, he believed, would secure his ascension to President Alpha—the supreme leader of all North American Lycan packs. But fate, as it often does, twisted his expectations. After ten long months, I birthed a pup with gray fur and gray eyes which was different to the golden-marked purebloods. By all standards, a low-ranking wolf. Simultaneously, my sister Eve, wedded to the rival Seurin Pack, delivered a golden-furred, golden-eyed pureblood. Leon's dream of becoming President Alpha shattered in an instant. From that moment, he harbored a strong hatred for me and my pup. He forced wolfsbane down our throats and ended our lives with a silver blade in a cold merciless way. Only in my dying breath did the horrifying truth reveal itself: my own sister had stolen my gift—the ability to bear purebloods—using dark magic, claiming it as her own. Now, I am reborn. I find myself reliving the day Leon and Seurin arrived to propose marriage. Just as before, Leon chose my sister Eve without hesitation. I saw it in his eyes—he remembers everything. He, too, has been reborn. But this time, I possess the knowledge. Without me, he will never father a pup—not pureblood, not even half-blood. Not even a mutt.

"This is what you wanted, isn’t it, little hunter?” he growled, flipping me onto my back like I weighed nothing. His hand fisted in my hair, dragging a broken moan from my throat. “Next time you put a blade to my throat… use it.” All my life, I’ve been trained as a hunter—my father’s perfect weapon. Born into a bloodline sworn to protect the human world from the monsters they can't even recognize. I thought I knew what monsters were… until the ancient, ruthless, obsessive Lycan King marked me as his mate — to break the witches’ curse that chained him to centuries of torment. One bite ruined everything — binding my body, mind, and soul to him. My touch quiets his endless agony — and he’d burn the world to keep it. Now I’ll play his wicked game — and turn his greatest weapon against him: me. I’ll remind him who’s really hunting who. But what happens when vengeance tastes like hunger? When I crave the monster I was born to hunt? When every lie my father hammered into me becomes just another chain — binding me to the beast I can’t let go? Now every step into his world drags me deeper — into secrets I was never meant to see, a darkness I was trained to destroy, and a forbidden life I crave more than my own salvation.

04:00 AM. JFK International Airport. I switched off airplane mode, and my phone lit up. The first notification was an Instagram story from my husband, Donovan Valentino, Don of the Valentino family, posted at 3:30 AM: a photo of Seraphina Moretti’s back, captioned, “Run 50 completed. Package delivered safe.” An hour before that, my flight had hit catastrophic clear-air turbulence, dropping two thousand feet in seconds. I’d clung to my seatbelt until my knuckles turned white, the crumpled threat letter from a rival crew pressed like a blade against my ribs. In those blind, falling seconds, one thought burned through the panic: If I live through this—if Donovan is waiting at arrivals—I’ll tear up my transfer papers to Dubai and stay. But there were no missed calls. No messages. He’d been too busy collecting Seraphina. He knew my flight details. He just didn’t care. Four years of marriage. 50 fully armed security details for Seraphina. For my 112 long-haul flights over those same four years? The most I ever got was a driver in an unmarked sedan. Even the night Gambino’s crew tailed me from Manhattan, and I spent six hours locked in a diner bathroom. He didn’t pick up until dawn, after the twelfth try. My transfer to Dubai was confirmed. The signed divorce settlement was in my bag. This was the last time I’d ever come back for him.

"I, Amelie Ashwood, Reject you, Tate Cozad, as my mate. I REJECT YOU!" I screamed. I took the silver blade dipped in my own blood to my mate mark. Amelie only ever wanted to live a simple life out of the spotlight of her Alpha bloodline. She felt she had that when she found her first mate. After years together, her mate was not the man he claimed to be. Amelie is forced to perform the Rejection Ritual to set herself feel. Her freedom comes at a price, one of which is an ugly black scar."Nothing! There's nothing! Bring her back!" I scream with every part of my being. I knew before he said anything. I felt her in my heart say goodbye and let go. At that moment, an unimaginable pain radiated to my core. Alpha Gideon Alios loses his mate, on which should be the happiest day of his life, the birth of his twins. Gideon doesn't have time to grieve, left mateless, alone, and a newly single father of two infant daughters. Gideon never lets his sadness show as it would be showing weakness, and he is the Alpha of the Durit Guard, the army and investigative arm of the Council; he doesn't have time for weakness. Amelie Ashwood and Gideon Alios are two broken werewolves that fate has twisted together. This is their second chance at love, or is it their first? As these two fated mates come together, sinister plots come to life all around them. How will they come unite to keep what they deem the most precious safe?

In Chicago's underworld, power is currency and loyalty is bought in blood. Jameson Connelly needs a wife to claim his throne. Catarina Vitale needs an escape from her gilded cage. Their arranged marriage should be simple—a business transaction, nothing more. Except nothing about this is simple. To the world, Catarina is the perfect Italian princess: refined, untouchable, ornamental. The truth is far more dangerous. She's been trained since childhood to wield blades with lethal precision, her family's most lethal weapon hidden behind designer dresses and polite smiles. When Jameson discovers her midnight blade work and weapons collection, all bets are off. He's grumpy, commanding, and impossibly sexy—everything she shouldn't want. She's lethal, sarcastic, and hiding secrets that could shatter his world. The attraction between them is instantaneous and absolutely forbidden. But their marriage has painted targets on both families' backs. Rival factions circle like sharks, and assassination attempts multiply as quickly as the stolen glances between newlyweds. When Jameson's uncle emerges as a threat from within, Cat must decide how far she'll go to protect the man she's sworn to resent. And Jameson must choose between the empire he's always wanted and the woman he never expected to need. In a world where trust is weakness and love is a liability, they'll have to forge something stronger than steel to survive. A gritty slow-burn mafia romance featuring grumpy meets curvy, sharp banter, dangerous secrets, and the kind of tension that burns hotter than any fire.

VENGEANCE!!! She was once adored by the nation... the “Country Princess,” a brilliant young screenwriter with fame, wealth, and loving parents. But all of that shattered the moment Cassie McCarthy crossed paths with Raymond Vanderbilt... the devil hidden behind a charming smile. He destroyed her world, murdered her parents, stole her inheritance, and betrayed her with her best friend, Rachael. When his cruelty led to her miscarriage, Raymond handed her divorce papers and left her to rot in despair. The once-celebrated princess became nothing but a ghost of her former self... the forgotten princess. On a stormy night, Cassie wished for death… but fate had other plans. When she opened her eyes, she was faced with Nikolai Rosewood... the Country’s most powerful and feared man - and her ex-husband’s sworn enemy. He offered her a deal: “Marry me, and I’ll help you destroy him.” But as vengeance intertwines with passion, Cassie soon realizes that Nikolai’s intentions are far more dangerous... and personal than she could ever imagine. Will she rise again as the Country Princess… or fall into a new web of deceit, desire, and deadly secrets?

My fiancé's childhood sweetheart could eat chili peppers like they were nothing, and she even claimed that they tasted sweet. The truth was, whenever she ate something spicy, the heat multiplied a hundred times in my stomach and shrank to almost nothing in hers. That was how she blew up online doing spicy food challenges, pulling in millions of followers in no time. As for me, I ended up with a wrecked stomach and a face covered in breakouts. I had no choice but to ask my fiancé for help. Not only did he refuse, but he also tried to have me committed. "Who still believes in this kind of nonsense? Either see a therapist or go check yourself into a psych ward!" Later, she entered a national spicy eating competition. After downing ten pounds of ghost peppers, she walked away just fine. Meanwhile, I died on the spot from a ruptured stomach. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment Sally Wallaker had just started streaming. I reached out and snatched the utensil from her hand. "I'll take this whole bowl of extra-spicy Cajun wings."

For eight years, I was the ghost in Lorenzo Valenti's empire. By day, I was his executive assistant, the engine of his criminal enterprise. By night, I was the most submissive bird in his gilded cage, and the nameless body in his bed. I loved him with a devotion that bordered on madness, a foolish flame I'd nurtured since I was a scholarship student pulled into his orbit. I believed my quiet love could one day melt the ice around his heart. I was wrong. The day his unforgettable first love, Isabella, returned, the man I knew vanished. The rare smiles once reserved for me were now all for her. My presence by his side was erased, replaced by hers. Even when she framed me, he believed her without hesitation. He chose her, again and again. I submitted my resignation. He signed it without looking. He thought I'd crawl back, broken and begging. He was wrong. While he was busy playing house with his "cuore mio", I was quietly packing away my life, preparing to vanish from his world forever.

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed inside and told the officer on duty that the killings weren't random—that the murderer was coming for me. They looked at me like I'd lost my mind. Then my husband arrived in a hurry and took me away. But the moment we reached our front door, a heavy hammer smashed into the back of my head. Through the blinding pain, I forced my eyes open, but I never saw who killed me. Now, staring at the grave expression on the news anchor's face, agony surged through every inch of my body. Rebirth isn't a reset. The damage accumulates—and sooner or later, it will torture me to death. Without hesitation, I walked into the kitchen and set a pot of oil to heat. And I waited… for the moment the lock began to turn.

I was born a liar. That was the label my mother gave me. In the Dark Moon Pack, every pup carries a Lunar Mark on their wrist. Green means truth. Red means liar. My twin sister Maya slashed Mommy's ceremonial dress with a blade and blamed the pack hounds. Her wrist stayed soft and green. My mark went crimson when I said I was cold. "Mommy, I'm telling the truth. Please believe me." Elena would crouch down, look me in the eye, and say the same thing every time. "The Goddess's mark is absolute, Selena. Your own heart betrays you." She never touched me. She just looked at my wrist with disgust. No matter how honest I tried to be, my heart would race when I was scared. And every time my pulse spiked, the mark turned red. I lied when I said I was hungry. I lied when I said I loved her. I lied when I cried. After enough years, I stopped fighting back. I started to believe her. Maybe I really was broken. Maybe I was just born wrong. The night I died, I wrote one last line in my Penance Journal. "Mommy, help me. It hurts. Please — just believe me once." She never saw it. She had already locked the door and walked away. I'm sorry, Mommy. I died still trying to get it right. In my next life — will you hold me?