Knife Drop

I never wanted to go back to the realm which my parents are from. Somehow, I just had to. Dark fae were hunting my mother and my father had to go and help because apparently, I was not ready to rule either his kingdom or my mother’s own. He was doing it for my good though, too bad he had to drop me in a boarding school to do it. I would not have much issues with that if not for the fact that I somehow, unknowing draw attention to myself the very first day and progressing forward, my life became filled with mean girls and school crush with a twist. The means girls were literally after my life and the crush might just be my mate. And oh, apparently, I am the most powerful dark folk to exist in the last thousand years. And a darkness lurk within me, waiting in the shadows and causing flash outs, using my body to do its will and it might just be in cahoots with someone close to me. I never knew what hit me until it hit and when it did, someone was taken. My name is Iristendale, first dark princess with the power to shake hell.

The temperature starts to drop once we reach the top of the mountain. My two childhood friends, who swore to protect me with their lives, don't even spare me a glance. One is hastily wrapping all his clothes around Lisette Locke, while the other is warming her with his body. I'm so cold that my heart condition acts up; I beg them to save me. However, they're infuriated by this. "How can you still be trying to get our attention at a time like this, Cecilia? Run around for a while if you're cold!" "We'll buy you that white down jacket you wanted when we get back, but you can't take it from Lise now!" The rescue team arrives, and I barely make it out alive. I'm hospitalized for a week, but neither of them come to visit me. I see from my social media that they're busy celebrating Lisette's birthday. We've been friends for over a decade, yet I mean nothing when compared to the driver's daughter. I call my father and say, "Dad, "I'm willing to marry into the Jorgensen family!"

“Tell me,” he said, low and dangerous. “Tell me who this cunt belongs to.” “You,” I panted, spreading wider, shameless. “It’s yours—please, Micaiah—” “Come on my cock,” he ordered through gritted teeth. “Show me how much you love being fucked by me.” ★⁠☆ Maliya comes home after two years abroad, hoping everything she ran from has finally cooled. But the moment she steps through the door, she realizes nothing has changed—especially not the one person she never wanted to face again. Micaiah. Her stepbrother. Her almost. Her reason for disappearing. She plans to keep her distance, start classes, rebuild her life… until her parents drop the news: they’ve transferred her to a new university, the one where Micaiah works as a professor. And they’re leaving for a three-month honeymoon, meaning she and Micaiah will be living in the same house. Alone. Maliya tells herself she can handle it. But Micaiah has his own ideas about unfinished business. Three months isn’t long… unless you’re stuck with the one person you swore you’d never fall for again.

Eidolon Avenue: Where the secretly guilty go to die. One building. Five floors. Five doors per floor. Twenty-five nightmares feeding the hunger lurking between the bricks and waiting beneath the boards. The sequel to Eidolon Avenue: The First Feast (“a great read...powerful and jarring” - Cemetery Dance) returns to the voracious Eidolon as it savors The Second Feast. A narcoleptic man in apartment 2A battles a vengeful past determined to rob him of everything as he runs from the barbaric disaster of a delusional love. A woman in 2B, reinventing herself to please a callous boyfriend, discovers the horrors that wait in the shadows of her self-renovation. The man in 2C, a teacher at the nearby Catholic girl’s school, collapses beneath the brutal consequences of his lecherous desires. An older woman in 2D, after decades dedicated to the church, is cornered at last by the grisly carnage beating at the hollow center of her faith. And a college student in 2E, hungry to escape an ignored life of invisible anonymity, finds herself captured between the pages of a ravenous book. All thrown into their own private hell as every cruel choice, every drop of spilled blood, every silent, complicit moment of cowardice is remembered, resurrected and relived to feed the ancient evil that lives on Eidolon Avenue. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

On the night of our eighth anniversary, I cooked everything Ethan loved. He didn't come home. I sat alone at the table until the food went cold. Then I did what I always did. I opened Selene's profile on the pack network. New post. One hour ago. A photo of Ethan, shirtless, building a fire in her den. Her hand on his shoulder. Her face turned toward the camera with a smile that showed too many teeth. The caption read: Grateful for old friends who drop everything when you need them. Even their marking anniversaries. I stared at it until my eyes burned. Then I liked it. Filed the bond-dissolution request. And started packing the trunk I'd kept ready for months. Ethan didn't believe it when he found out. "She's throwing a fit," I heard he told his packmates. "Give her three days." "I'll crook my finger and she'll come running back." "She always does." What he didn't understand was why I always came back. It was because I loved him. That was gone now.

I have just been discharged after leg surgery when Victor Clark, my wife's former colleague who resents her for taking his position, drags me up to the roof and stabs me repeatedly. My wife, Melissa Lane, is the captain of the rescue unit, yet she is busy mobilizing everyone to stop her depressed first love, Ethan Hayes, from setting his rental apartment on fire. I don't call her to save me. In my previous life, I begged her for help. She abandoned Ethan and rushed to rescue me. In the end, I survived while Ethan died in the blaze. Melissa never blamed me. She said that Ethan got what he deserved and even promised me a surprise for my birthday a week later. But on my birthday, she drugged me, tied me to a hospital bed, and drove a knife into me again and again. "You and Victor set me up that day, didn't you? Those stab wounds aren't even serious! You were never going to die! Since you like getting stabbed so much, I'll make it real for you!" When I open my eyes, I am back to the day Victor took me hostage. This time, I let Melissa go save her first love.

For three years of marriage, Mark Powell had a talent for one thing—twisting the knife in Lisa Simpson’s heart. His parents never approved of her. Her mentor had been disappointed in her. Still, Lisa kept believing that if she loved him enough, if she gave him everything she had, she could warm his heart. It took her three years to realize the truth. The woman Mark had never let go of was his younger brother’s fiancée. What a joke. She’d wanted a child. She thought maybe then she could at least stay by his side and grow old with him. Instead, she was told she wasn’t even qualified to have his baby. That was the real punchline. On their wedding anniversary, Lisa finally walked away for good. She went back to research. She won major awards. She made a name for herself and brought honor to her country. She was glowing. Brilliant, successful men circled around her. There was no shortage of people eager to win her over. Three years later, Lisa stepped out of the maternity ward, a baby in her arms. Mark suddenly rushed in front of her like he’d lost his mind. “You were pregnant?” Lisa smiled faintly and looked down at him. “I had a baby. What does that have to do with my ex-husband?”

"Where is he?" He asked as he titled his head and glared down at me. His scar on the eye made him look even more horrifying. I wonder how many scars he has on that face of his which he hides. I was terrified but I tried my best to stay calm and composed because his mere presence makes me want to run away and hide somewhere where he can never find me but I fail to hide and not only I risked my life but his too. "He...is not w-with me." I said and he raised his right eyebrow where the scar stood proudly. "Really, hazelnut?" He asked as he caressed my cheek with his pointed knife, knocking my soul out for a fraction of a second. *** Sebastian Martinez a 27 years old, cold, stern and brooding leader of a gang named 'the scars'. He hides his face from the world but his eyes are enough to send people down hill. The scar on his eye defines his ruthless acts. Not a killer but enough to traumatize you. But is he only a gangster or something far more dangerous than that? Aurora James is a girl who stays in her own life as a writer but also has a small boutique. Her life is normal and she has lots of dreams to achieve but her past keeps haunting her down. What will happen when fate will bond these two in the most unexpected way?

Alaric and I had been mates for five years, and I had believed with all my heart that I would become the first female Gamma of the pack by proving myself in the warrior’s trial. I had trained relentlessly, sharpening my claws and honing my instincts, ready to fight for my rightful place. But fate had other plans. Three days before the trial, I was ambushed by rogues. They didn't just attack me—they hunted me like prey. They tormented me with the silver knife so that my wolf was dead. The scent of death clung to me, my wolf howling in agony, desperately trying to heal, but the wounds ran too deep. As I lay barely conscious on the blood-stained sheets, I heard my husband's cold, indifferent voice. "Is she dead?" The witch doctor hesitated before answering, "No, but—" "It doesn’t matter," Alaric interrupted, Coat her wounds with wolfsbane and silver—make sure it seeps into her blood, burns through her veins, and poisons her wolf beyond repair. I want her body to reject her own nature, so she will never heal. There will only be one Gamma in this pack, and that's Serina." In that moment, the truth became clear—I had never truly stood a chance in the warrior’s trial I had dreamed of. The battle had been decided long before I ever stepped into the arena.

''After a few seconds of them staring at one another, Dante finally spoke. But his voice had changed; it was breathless and soft, echoing with a sweetness that Nate could have never imagined existed within him. With the knife left on his palm for Nate to grab, he cooed sheepishly, "Can you...tease me...with this?" Nate Kennedy was devastated when his parents announced their moving overseas. As for him, he was forced to move to a new city, get an apartment near his aunt and enroll in a brand new school. It all started going left when he encountered an assassin named Dante Hercules known not only in their city, but across the entire territory. But Nate didn't know he was an assassin when NAte threatened to kill him after Dante had laid a hand on his aunt. Neither did he know that Dante was into submissive sexual pleasure, relished being dominated violently and carelessly. He had been looking for someone for years and years, until now; he found Nate Kennedy. That is the deal; Nate must keep Dante sexually satisfied. If he fails, he dies, without any remorse. But that was what he thought in the beginning; what happens when emotions start to get involved? When one falls in love with the other? When the dangerous lifestyle of Dante puts Nate's life in jeopardy, which he never thought he would care for?