Romans & histoires Local 58 Analog Horror

Prince Barlion Great was about to accept the throne from his father, King Viper Great by the time he reached of age. But the lack of responsibility in the Prince had dragged out his correlation for a decade. But when the second son came of age, Prince Barlion was given a last chance to prove himself that he was worthy of the crown. The only way Kind Viper could challenge his son was to make him do the one thing the Prince was repulsed of.... Commitment. so, the King proposed that he will take Frost Sorrow as his wife or, he can pass the throne down to his brother. Prince Barlion didn't want to marry the faceless woman who has unpleasant tales told about her through all the five kingdoms. But he wasn't about to give up the throne either. Frost Sorrow- the faceless girl- had never imagined that she would be betrothed to the future king of Gold land Kingdom. Counting the seconds until the illness would finally take her had been the only thing she knew. A husband and a family were never written in the starts for her. But her parents had taken this opportunity to give her hand to the future king, where she'd be safe, while they travel beyond the five Kingdoms and searched for a healer. Frost didn't want to take a husband. She didn't want to leave the comforts of her home. But she would never defy her parents, and her parents would never defy the king. Prince Barlion doesn't want a faceless wife with enough rumors to fill a horror story. He doesn't want a wife, period. All he needed to do is stand the woman until he gets the throne. After that, all he has to do is...drive her away.

"You stupid whore," Jasper snarls, fingers bruising my arms as he shakes me like trash. "Name the bastard who touched what's mine or I'll carve that filthy seed from your womb and make you watch it die." ---- One reckless night of freedom. A shadowed stranger's fangs at my throat and his thick cock splitting me open while he growls filthy promises: “Cvm on this c0ck, you lying little virgin bıtch. Squeeze me like the greedy cvmdump you’ve always been. I’m gonna flood your womb so deep you’ll carry my seed while you swear forever to another man.” ---- And my perfect mafia wedding shatters at the altar. I collapse and wake up pregnant. Shame ignites bloodlust. Families roar “puttana sporca,” “troia incinta,” knives flashing, abortion demanded. My body becomes a battlefield.. flesh to gut, erase, and own. When all hope seemed lost, the door crashes open and the room freezes. Jasper drops to a bow, whispering, “Father.” The monster strides in: Dax Blackthorne, untouchable werewolf alpha, empire-killer. He squats beside me, inhales my scent, voice low and lethal and ask, “Why do I smell my pup in you?” I stare from the stranger… to my husband bowing low… and horror slams home. I’m carrying my father-in-law’s child. One drunken, savage knot had produced an impossible heir. In a blood-soaked empire of werewolf dominance, mafia wars, and taboo claims, a fragile human girl must harden into venom or be devoured by the men who believe her womb, her body, and her fate already belong to them. One filthy mistake. One forbidden pup. And now everything burns.

Manhattan was doing that thing again twinkling like it had all the answers, when really it just had expensive lighting. Alexander Knight leaned against the glass wall of his penthouse, seventy-five floors up, watching the city hum below him. Bourbon in one hand (mostly untouched), phone in the other. The merger docs stared back at him from the screen, but the part that actually kept him up at night wasn’t the billions on the line. It was the fine print from the Japanese investors: “Family stability preferred.” Translation: get a wife, look settled, or watch the whole deal slip away. He exhaled, fogging the window for a second before it cleared. His assistant had already sent over a neat little list of “suitable” women—discreet, polished, zero drama. Women who understood arrangements. He hadn’t even opened the attachments. Because something about the whole thing felt… hollow. His gaze drifted down, past the grid of lights, to the tiny café on the corner. Golden glow spilling onto the sidewalk, handwritten sign in the window: Local Artist Pop-Up – One Night Only. A woman stood in front of a canvas, head tilted, paint-smudged shirt slipping off one shoulder. She was talking to someone out of view, laughing softly, then stepped back to study her work like it had personally offended her. She glanced up—straight toward his building, straight at him somehow, even though there was no way she could see him up here. But for a split second, their eyes locked across the impossible distance. But right then, with the whole damn city glittering between them, he had this ridiculous, unshakable thought: She’s the one I’m going to ask. And hell help them both when she says yes.

*Hollis Bogard isn’t known for her commitment. In fact, she’s content leading a single, flirtatious life. That might change after meeting Whitney York, a free spirited artist thirsting for adventure.Having been cursed out, chased, and scorned by every broken hearted woman twenty eight year old heroin addict Hollis Bogard has slept around with, she’s not fazed at all by any of it. Always preferring to look for the next best set of kissable lips. Life as an emotionally unavailable bachelorette has served her well, and after all...everyone was warned before anything happened. Feelings were a big no. Hollis had seen what love did to her parents, and wanted nothing to do with the white picket-fenced lie. So long as her bed was warm when she needed it to be, that’s what mattered.Californian Whitney York is ready for a new start. While spontaneity wasn’t a strong suit of her’s, packing up everything she owned into her little black 2008 Toyota Prius and driving cross country to Auburn, Maine was the best idea she’d had all year. No more nagging mother, to hell with her father always comparing Whitney to her successful sister, Theresa. The one with the prestigious acting career, doting husband, and two all American poster children. She wanted to be free to figure out her own destiny. When elusive Hollis bumps into electrifying Whitney at a local bar on the outskirts of town, sparks fly between the unlikely pair.Disclaimer: Strong sexual content, graphic sex scenes, drug usage. 18+, please. This novel won’t be for you if you’re not comfortable with any of the above topics.2019 All Rights Reserved (you know how it goes) Please don’t attempt to steal any part of my work.

“I Thalia Rose Laurel reject you, Alpha of Flame Valley Pack Knox Winslow.” I cry out, breaking the bond that never should have been. Ryan's eyes flash with horror, his gaze flickering between Knox and I. “Thalia no.” “Yes.” I blink through my tears. “Let me do what he didn't have the guts to do five years ago, what I should have done to us the moment he slammed my head into a wall while I was grieving my daughter!” “I'm sorry, Thalia.” Knox grabs my hand, but I can't stand to be touched by him. “Don't do this to us, to our-” “Let me end this Knox.” I choke out and it's the saddest plea I've ever uttered. “I started this obsessive diminishhing game between us so it's right I be the one to end it. Accept my rejection.” His head shakes, watching me with teary eyes. “I love you.” Knox won't let me go, but I'm ready to let him go, to let us go and so I do the one thing I can.... .………….. Thalia and Knox have had a rocky start to their relationship, and with Knox bullying wolfless Thalia when he knew she was his mate under the guise of oblivion. Knox falls for Thalia and she him but both know she doesn't meet the standard of what he wants in a mate and Luna, the two try to make their relationship work but Knox falls prey to his previous playboy lifestyle multiple times, hurting Thalia and ruining the little that's left of their relationship. Thalia's need to appear strong, and worthy of Flame Valley lands her in trouble, birthing the core reason for the major drift I'n their relationship. Their love is strong but can it overcome the deceptions and conspiracies that surround Them?

I had always been obedient and compliant. I never dared to disobey others' instructions. The day my wealthy biological parents brought me home, my adoptive brother leaned close to my ear and sneered arrogantly, "The position of the Spencer family's heir belongs to me. If you know what's good for you, get lost on your own." I nodded obediently. Then I turned around and threw myself straight into rush-hour traffic on the highway. My parents nearly lost their minds. Panicked and trembling, they dragged me back into the car, their faces drained white with terror. My sister's expression darkened as she warned me coldly in my ear, "If you pull another stunt for attention, believe me, I'll throw you right back into the doghouse you came from." I obediently listened. That very night, I locked myself inside a dog crate. My sister froze in complete shock. Gritting her teeth, she yanked me out, staring at me like she'd seen a ghost. Later, when my adoptive brother pretended to be sick, my sister forced me to donate blood for him. I obediently took the knife. Without the slightest hesitation, I slashed straight through the artery in my wrist. By the time my parents rushed over, blood had just begun spraying out. They screamed in horror and lunged forward to press against my wound. "Somebody call 911! Now!!!" My sister had gone just as pale. After a long moment of stunned silence, she finally stammered, "Mom, Dad… I only told him to donate a little blood to Eric. I never told him to slit his wrist…" I blinked. My sister wasn't lying. She really hadn't taught me that. It was something the traffickers taught me during the five years my family personally handed me over to them—to "learn obedience."

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.

On Independence Day, I was on my way to my boyfriend's house when a car slammed into me. The stretch of road was deserted. The collision jammed my door shut, and the acrid smell of gasoline filled the air. My car was about to explode. I scrambled for the emergency hammer, only to find it had been swapped out for a pink toy mallet. Panic rising in my chest, I dialed my boyfriend's number. To my horror, his ringtone sounded from the very car that had crashed into me. He stepped out, arm wrapped around his childhood sweetheart. She put on a pitiful face, tears in her eyes. "Oh no, I'm so clumsy. It's my first time driving, and I hit someone." When my boyfriend realized the victim was me, he didn't hesitate to console her. "Don't worry. She must have collided with you on purpose." I pounded on the window, desperate. "Nick! The emergency hammer's been switched out. Help me get out of here!" His childhood sweetheart lit up with a mischievous smile. "Katie, I swapped it! Isn't the pink hammer super cute?" Disgust flickered across Nick's face. "It's just a little crash. Get out on your own." By now, thick smoke was pouring into the car, and the heat was searing my lungs. I begged him to save me. But the girl only giggled, covering her nose in mock annoyance. "Katie, why are you cooking in there? The smoke is awful." Then she patted her stomach. "Oops, my tummy is rumbling. Nick, let's go home and eat." He tightened his hold around her and turned to leave. "Enough already. Stop pretending. My parents are waiting for us at home." Just as suffocation closed in on me, I slammed my hand against the car's emergency distress button.

Two souls, forged in suffering, would collide in a dance of darkness and desire, testing the limits of love and redemption. Their paths meet when Asher's sister becomes the target of a predator, and Kaidën sees an opportunity for justice. As they navigate their dark worlds, they must confront the demons that haunt them. Will Asher's desire for protection and Kaidën's quest for vengeance spark a twisted romance, or will their shattered reflections destroy them? *** “You killed my mother.” Asher's voice trembled with fury. Kaidën's smile was cold, almost mirthful. “Who gave your sister to her husband who sold her to pay off his debts.” “I watched you murder her in cold blood!” Asher’s fists clenched around the gun he held pointed at the killer, memories of that night flooding back. Kaidën leaned closer, a sinister smile creeping onto his face. "I remember begging you to look away. But you didn’t. Did you enjoy it, Asher? Watching the woman who shattered your world writhe in agony? Or would you prefer to keep that little secret buried deep? Ah, but don’t answer that. Come, help me gather the pieces of your father's remains. It’s time to tidy up this little mess." Asher’s eyes widened in horror, realization crashing over him like a wave. All this time, he had been unaware that he was not only a witness to his father’s murder, but had watched it unfold until the very end, just like he had done that night when he watched his mother’s murder. Nodding, he picked up the severed hand of his father—the same hand that had beaten and broken him until his skin grew numb to pain. ‘Oh, sweet Emily, if only you could see our father now. How the mighty have fallen.’

Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | 18+ | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Pace It started with a kiss I don’t remember giving. A rooftop. A moan. Someone’s fingers buried in my hair like they belonged there. A mouth on my throat that said I tasted like something they lost in another life. I wasn’t dreaming. The city was already cracking beneath me. Power grids flickering like dying stars. Tech failing. Screens static. The sky bruising in strange new colors. Everyone said it was coincidence. Collapse. Noise. But I knew better. The moment I felt her breath on my skin — even if I couldn’t see her — I knew the end had already arrived. And I had something to do with it. Ten butterflies followed me after that. Not literal ones. Not always. They shimmered in my periphery. Each the wrong color. Each too vivid. Each drawn to me like heat to blood. They touched me in dreams. They watched me when I undressed. They whispered without words. I could taste their want. Some called me cursed. Broken. Unstable. But the truth is simpler. I’m blooming again — and they all feel it. They don’t love me. They remember me. They remember what I used to be — what I still am, underneath the silence. One of them burned me with just a kiss. One broke my spine with kindness. One slid her hand under my shirt like it was always hers. One cries when she touches me. One never speaks, but her eyes dig. One wants to keep me. One wants to ruin me. And one just wants to finish what we started. They think I’m choosing. I’m not. My body already did. And now the bloom inside me is turning darker.