Jed Olsen Scream Novels & Stories

Noah Stark was supposed to marry Genevieve’s cousin but was forced into the arms of Genevieve because his future wife's family treated him awfully, like a criminal, and looked down on him as the dirt underneath their boots until they found out who he was. For a moment, Mr. Cornell stared at Noah, and then he looked down at the resume in his hand, it took him a while before the light bulb spiked in his head, and he shouted, “Cease him!” Immediately, a guard fist slammed into Noah's jaw, and another struck him in the face, gashing his lip and causing Leo to scream and cry louder. ‘Glenn,’ Noah thought as his jaw tightened at the sight of his future wife, sensing his only emotion for her was a feeling of annoyance. “A house help… Cousin, your standard has dropped after your husband's death… How can you degrade from a CEO and governor's nephew to this thing right here.” Glenn said, her tone full of disgust. “Can you please stop, Glenn!” Genevieve snapped at her, tired of the constant smug remark from her cousin. “Watch it, Genevieve.” Mrs. Carnell warned her coldly. “My daughter is right. While Glenn is about to get married to the only heir of the Stark family, you are here fooling around with an idler. If word gets out about this, who would want to marry you again? You are already a widow, and now you are sleeping around with a ‘nobody! You should get remarried quickly to save face before any more scandals appear in the press and ruin this family!’”

“Do you know how many nights I’ve thought about those? How I imagined sliding your dress up and seeing you in them… in my room, or my office… gagged so you wouldn’t scream my name?” “Say the word, Renata,” he whispered, voice rough. “And I’ll have you right here… where anyone could knock. Where you could get caught with your husband’s father’s cock inside you.” She gasped. But she didn’t say no. ******** One reckless night. A stranger’s touch. Her ruin. The night before her wedding, Renata surrendered to a man whose name she didn’t know… A man who made her tremble, moan, and beg for more in the shadows. The next morning, he was at the wedding hall too…Watching her walk down the aisle to his son. Domingo Serrano. Powerful. Predatory. Possessive. And he’s not done with her. He wants her again. And again. Once a week. No excuses. No escape. But Renata isn’t just drowning in lust and shame. She’s chasing answers. Her parents were murdered under the guise of an auto accident. The killer is hiding behind the walls of the Hidalgo empire. Santiago, her charming husband, has secrets. Lady Constanza, his mother, wears lies like pearls. And Domingo? He’s the darkest of them all. Now Renata’s playing with fire, and carrying a secret that could burn everyone: She’s pregnant. And she doesn’t know if the father is her husband… or his father.

"Goodbyes, Richard," he whispers, his voice dripping with pride. "No! No! What have you done?!" I scream, consumed by grief as helpless, indescribable pain crashes over me like a roaring wave. "You're Richard's niece, aren't you?" he asks, his voice low and rough. I remain silent, unable to form words. "And my mate, it seems," He grasps my chin tightly, his fingers digging into my skin, and leans in close. His scent hits me like a tidal wave, and I'm shocked by how intoxicating it is. I try to look away, but my gaze is trapped by his. 'Mate!' my wolf growls in excitement. It’s the worst thing that could ever happen to Jessica as the same man that wiped out her family is given to her by the moon goddess, as her mate. She wants revenge, wants to hurt him in all the hurtful ways she could think of but she’s no match for her mate. She’s dragged to his pack and forced to be his personal maid. It’s pure torture as she has to fight off the mate bond no matter what. But her alpha mate had other ideas as he wants to own every inch of her not minding the fact he could destroy her along the way. It’s a fight from pleasure, a plea for revenge, a world full of misunderstanding. Only the truth could sincerely set them free. Would she stick to her plans of revenge or give in to his pleasure, even if it’s by force?

"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?

BASTARD SON OF THE VIKINGS Palermo does not forgive. Neither does it forget. When Guerrero Valenti, the feared leader of the Vikings, vanished, the city exhaled a dangerous calm—but only for a moment. In the shadows, enemies waited. Rivals sharpened their knives. And one woman bore a secret that could ignite every street in the city. Lucia Romano carried the child of a man who had disappeared into legend and rumor. A son who had not been claimed, not protected, not named. The city whispered of him with venom: the bastard of the Vikings. The boy was fragile, but he was a storm waiting to erupt. And every night, Palermo tested him. Masked men tried to snatch him from his crib. Fire, steel, and blood became his lullabies. Yet he survived. Every threat only sharpened his instincts, every scream hardened his mother’s resolve. But whispers spread faster than steel through the night—rumors of a man returning. A shadow that would claim everything, sparking fear in every heart: Guerrero Valenti. The father who abandoned him. The legend whose name alone commands obedience. The storm that will rise, carrying vengeance, blood, and fire. And when he comes, Every man who dared call the bastard his enemy will fall. Every street, every roof, every whispered corner will bow to the son of Guerrero Valenti or be washed in blood. This is the story of survival. Of fire and steel. Of a mother and her son. Of a father’s return. Even the earth is getting ready to absorb blood … the blood of those who call the legitimate son of the Vikings a “BASTARD", and collect necks........the necks of those fallen by the sword of GUERRERO VALANTI. And upon his return Heads will bow to the one they called a BASTARD .

Sweet warning, my darling sinner… These pages are dripping with the kind of temptation that will make your thighs clench and your prayers turn filthy. Once you start reading, you won’t want absolution—you’ll beg for more sin. Reader discretion is strongly advised. In shadowed confessionals and candlelit cathedrals, forbidden desire ignites again and again… She kneels in nothing but a sheer black lace nightdress that barely hides her hardened nipples, wrists bound in leather and silver chains. “Forgive me, Father,” she whispers, voice trembling as the cold rosary beads slip between her slick folds. His deep voice answers from the darkness: “No forgiveness tonight, little lamb… only my cock teaching you how to worship.” Another night, another altar. A different priest’s strong hand slides under her nightdress, fingers circling her swollen clit while his lips brush her ear: “You came here to confess your sins… but your dripping pussy already told me everything.” And in the moonlit sacristy, she’s bent over the holy table, nightdress hiked up, collar tight, as he growls against her neck, “Every time you moan my name, another angel loses its wings… now scream for me, baby girl.” Ten scorching stories. Ten powerful priests. One deliciously wicked collection of priest-sinner BDSM romance that will leave you wet, breathless, and aching to be ruined. Leather. Chains. Rosaries used in ways God never intended. Unholy pleasure has never felt so heavenly. **Indulge. Submit. Sin.** Ready to kneel for every single story? Turn the page… and let them all ruin you.

I've been married to the prince of the underworld for ten years and have endured countless life-or-death situations by his side. My hands, once trained to play the piano, are covered in calluses from holding guns and stained with blood. But at 28, my husband ends up falling for a young woman from the slums. She's as delicate and pure as a chamomile. She's his well-kept little secret—until I run into them at the woman's prenatal appointment one day. I storm up to him, demanding an explanation, only for him to nonchalantly hand me divorce papers. "Sonia is a devout follower of the church and can't have a child before marriage. I must make an honest woman out of her. Sign these, and you'll get 40% of the company's shares." I refuse to do as told, so he corners me. In the end, he has my crippled younger brother tied up and forced under a hydraulic compression machine. "Sign the papers, Maeve, or watch your brother become a human mince pie. The choice is yours." I fall on my knees and beg him to stop. As the machine turns on, my hands fly to my aching lower belly, and I scream as I lose consciousness. When I wake up again, I'm back in the hospital, in the same spot where I ran into my husband and his mistress at her prenatal appointment. This time, I don't confront him. Overnight, I make arrangements with a sanatorium abroad, get divorced, and run away from home. Yet the moment I truly disappear, my husband loses his mind.

Lucia had never believed in rebirth. She had read about it a few times in books tucked away on her shelf, but she never imagined it could be real. Yet, here she was—reborn. This time, she swore she wouldn’t let kindness be her downfall. She would make them pay. Her so-called best friend and husband had used her, drained her of everything, and left her with nothing. They manipulated her, deceived her, and when they had no more use for her, they poisoned her—leaving her to suffer in agony for over a year. What a vile couple. On the night of her death—her own birthday—they stood before her, laughing as they confessed their betrayal. They had taken everything from her, and now, they wanted her to know the full extent of their cruelty. Her husband and best friend, her supposed confidants, had been lovers all along. Worse, they had killed her true mate. Lucia had wept until there were no more tears left to shed. Too weak to fight, too broken to scream, she watched as they reveled in their wickedness, even making out right in front of her as she lay dying. That night, amidst a raging storm, Lucia took her last breath. But when she opened her eyes again, morning light streamed through the window. "Is this heaven?" she whispered, confused. A familiar voice answered. "Lucia, you’re awake! Let me get the doctor!" Brittany exclaimed before rushing out of the room. In that instant, Lucia knew the truth. She had been reborn. And this time, she would make them pay—for everything they did to her and her family.

My sister was autistic. The doctors called it "severe sensory overload." The rule was simple: No sudden noises. Ever. So my whole life was set to mute. I never wore heels. I never raised my voice. I wasn't even allowed to laugh. It was all to keep her from having a meltdown. My father, Victor, the Don of the Castellano family, would grip my shoulder. His face was a mask of apology. "Sera, you're my good girl. Protecting your sister is our duty. You're healthy and strong. You can sacrifice a little for her, can't you?" That day, I was on the second-floor terrace and accidentally knocked over a pot of white roses. The sound of it shattering sent my sister, who was sunbathing in the garden below, into a meltdown. For the first time, Victor glared at me like I was the enemy. He roared, "Can't you just be quiet? Do you want to drive her insane?" My sister backed away in terror, right into a glass table, and let out a piercing scream. Victor charged past me, a blur of rage and panic. He slammed into me on the stairs as I was running down to help. I lost my footing and crashed chest-first into the sharp corner of a wrought-iron banister post. Pain exploded in my chest. I opened my mouth to scream, but only silence came out. My family swarmed around my shrieking sister. No one even glanced at me. My lungs filled with blood. I was drowning on the floor. They all thought my sister, the one with autism, needed the family's comfort. They thought I just took a fall. That I could wait. They were wrong.

"You really want me to worship you? well guess what? When I get on my knees, spread your legs apart, and dive into your gushing core with my tongue, and you grab my hair from behind, screaming, oh God! That is worship!" Vlad bellowed. For the first time ever, Ivy went tongue-tied. Ivy Greene hates men. It's not just a phase, or a front. She actively hates them. All her life, she has lived, surrounded by women. Most importantly, her grandmother who taught her to hate men. So when she finds a man in her living room, and her grandmother tells her he is her betrothed, her first reaction is to faint. She wakes up in a wedding gown, all dolled up, with a note plastered on the mirror in the strange room. The moment she crosses through the door, her entire life changes as she steps into the world of Vladimir Bratva, the youngest, yet most feared mafia lord in the world. Vladimir is taken aback by her venomous tongue she wastes no time using to show him just how little she thinks of men. He's only used to men hating him, so she's an amusing development. Both strong-headed, they clash in every way. But the most explosive way is between sheets, where Vladimir shows Ivy the kind of results passionate hate can produce. Her perspective starts to shift. Because how can the same kind of person she has been groomed to hate, make her scream so much, and not in anger? Just when she begins to rethink her orientation, the ghost of their ancestral past, intertwined in the most toxic way, resurrects. Sending them on a ride that changes everything.