Knuckles Crying Novels & Stories

After my mate, Regulus Thornfield, dies from an "accident", his twin brother, Lawrence Thornfield takes over his position as the Alpha. He also inherits me and my pup, Niall Thornfield. The new Luna, Alice Moreau, views me as a thorn in her side. She wants nothing more than to exile Niall and me. One night, I head over to the study to ask Lawrence to let me and Niall leave the pack. But I overhear his Beta asking him, "Alpha Regulus, your brother was the one who died in the accident. Why did you claim that you were the one that died?' The sounds of Regulus rapping his knuckles on the desk can be heard. "The elder council had forced me to mark Leah back then. The she-wolf that I've loved all this time has always been Alice. "Besides, Leah has a pup of her own. If I don't fake my death, Alice will be the one left with nothing." As I stand outside the door, I feel my nails digging into my palms. It turns out that my own mate is willing to fake his own death and abandon his own family just so he can return to his beloved she-wolf's side. At the crack of dawn, I place a transfer application on the desk of the elder council. "My personal assets are enough for me to raise my pup. Also, I refuse to be the third wheel in a relationship. Please let us leave the pack."

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.

He was supposed to be a stranger. A bruised, scarred, filthy-mouthed stranger who pinned me against a bathroom wall and made me forget the boy who broke my heart 20 minutes earlier. I walked away first without his name or number, and I didn't look back. Then I found out my mom was engaged. To his dad. Rhys Maddox. Number seventeen. 6'3" of tattoos, bruised knuckles, and the kind of jaw that makes good girls do stupid things. The most dangerous player to ever step on our ice. My one-night stand. My new stepbrother. He doesn't follow rules - he breaks them. On the ice. In my bed. Against every surface in our parents' house while they eat twenty feet away. He calls me "sis" just to watch me squirm. He watches me like he already owns me. And the worst part? He does. Publicly, we're fake dating - a deal to keep my ex-bestfriend away. Privately, we're a stepbrother and stepsister who can't keep our clothes on the second we're alone. It's our biggest secret. Now the boy who I once considered my best friend suddenly wants me back. And the stepbrother who wasn't supposed to mean anything won't let me go. One wants to protect me. One wants to destroy me. And I can't tell which is which anymore. --- For readers 18+ who like their men possessive, their romances FORBIDDEN, and their chapters dripping with filthy, unapologetic spice.

On my way back from a business trip, I scrolled past a video. A newborn was abandoned by the roadside, crying so hard. As a first time dad, I couldn’t help looking at the baby a little longer. I froze because that baby looked exactly like my son. I had booked the best confinement center in the city for my wife. I had checked them into a VIP suite. I had employed a nanny and a nursing team to look after my wife and my son full-time. I broke out in a cold sweat. My wife didn’t check her phone, so I immediately called the center's manager, Ms. Thompson. She laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, Mr. Smith. Your wife and baby are perfectly fine. They just fell asleep.” The next second, she sent me a photo of my sleeping baby. I stared at the tiny, unfamiliar face. In that instant, the blood in my body turned to ice. I was only gone for four days. So how was my son a different person?

My childhood friends switched their university of choice behind my back. Going to the capital, they enrolled in an elite university with an exchange student. To them, I was just a tool who could not survive without them. That impression lasted until the opening ceremony of an Ivy League university. As the representative of the new students, I stood at the center of the hall. Meanwhile, the youngest PhD advisor in the entire country watched me as he smiled. Beyond the world of the novel I lived in, the readers’ comments went wild. [Shouldn’t she be crying back at home? Why is she in an Ivy League university?] However, the next part was even crazier. That man actually asked me to be his girlfriend yesterday. He was Professor Samuel Grant, the one who had rejected my four childhood friends from studying under him. When my childhood friends left me behind to chase after that manipulative witch, they never expected me to cast aside my role as someone running after them. I ended up holding a full-ride scholarship and reached heights they could never touch.

" I am pregnant," I said timidly caressing my flat belly hoping that he will be happy hearing the news. After all, he is going to be a father. He said chewing the food," Abort it." He said it so usually like it's the obvious thing to say at this situation. My eyes get watered immediately. I said crying," It's my first baby. I want to give birth to this baby." "I have told my decision already. You can never have my baby," He said finishing his food. " Why can't I have it? please, let me have it, I replied tightening my hold on my belly. He said banging his palm on the table," You will not listen like that." Saying that he dragged me towards the staircase and said creepily almost pushing me on the stairs," Just one push and the result will be same. Mistresses are for pleasure not for bearing children. So, don't forget your place." Warning - There are several mature content. If your are under 18 then don't read.

Mallory is a simple Human with a life where everybody loved her. Including her Husband Helios. But one person changed everything. “What lies did Madeline tell you this time that you had to yanked me out of the bed?” I ask calmly. “Get rid of it.” He said angrily. Confused I stared at him. “Don’t play dumb with me. Get that fucking thing growing in you aborted!” He says and my eyes widen. And how could he refer to our baby as just a thing he could easily can get rid of? “No!” I say and he laughed. He then carried me screaming and crying begging him, and he placed me on the hospital bed. “Ben, get that thing removed from her now!” He commanded. After 5 years later, Mallory comes back but without any memory of him. When it’s too late, does he deserve to be forgiven? Or he should just forget about her and move like she did? After all, they are mates.

While presiding over a transnational meeting, I received a distressing call from my daughter's kindergarten teacher. "Mrs. Payton, a kid drew a massive clown on Anna's face during nap time! No matter how much I try to wash it off, it won't come off!" I immediately rushed to the kindergarten. My daughter, Anna Payton, was sobbing at the door. Her usually fair and tender face was now red and swollen. The clown drawing on it was particularly eye-catching. The new teacher was so panicked that she was crying herself, her voice trembling. "The parent of the other child is in the office. They said they're willing to compensate any amount, but... But there's no way you can make their son apologize." My anger surged as I kicked open the office door. However, I instantly froze in place. In the office, my husband, Arlo Payton, who was supposed to be in Swizor for a year of intensive studies, was holding up the bully. The next second, the little boy in his arms pointed at Anna and laughed. "Look, Dad. Clownface is here!"

Ahava Deene Madden was a 16 years old girl with special needs, she’s a girl who loves butterflies and anything that is in vibrant color. She is the only heiress of their family so every servant in their house was calling her young lady. She’s studying in a prestigious school under special education when she met a guy in an accident, she steps on his brand new shoes with poop causing him to piss off. After a month they met again in their school event while she’s crying, that guy helps her to find her butler. That day she’s confused why that guy she pissed off before is always playing and spending time with her until she feels an unfamiliar feeling that she doesn’t know. But she doesn’t know that this guy was suffering from a serious stage of brain cancer and his days are counted. What does Deene feel? Is she allowed to fell in love with her condition? Who is that guy making her feel special? Can both of them be happy?

On Christmas Eve, my six-year-old, Yule, was dying from cancer, and all he wanted was a gift from his dad dressed as Santa. I called Peter, my husband, begging him to come. His reply? "Can you stop blowing up my phone? I don't have time for this! I'm helping Tracey find Puffy. Do you know how upset she is?" Oh, Tracey. His first love. And Puffy? Her dog. I told him Yule might not make it through the night. His response? A straight-up dagger: "Don't act like this isn't your fault, Freya. If Yule hadn't kicked Puffy, none of this would've happened. Tomorrow, make sure he apologizes to Tracey." Then he hung up. That night, I sat with Yule, crying as I helped him celebrate his last Christmas. By morning, Peter's social medias were still full of posts about that freaking dog. Mine? Yule's obituary. Ten years of marriage, gone.