Love Story Of A Vampire 소설 & 이야기

Iris escapes a stifling marriage, finding refuge in a chance encounter with Ian at a resort. Shared confessions spark a connection, leading to Ian's frequent visits to Iris's life. As their friendship deepens, external pressures and family complexities threaten their budding relationship. Will they overcome the challenges that seek to unravel their newfound connection?

Moments before my Mating Ceremony, the guards shoved me from the altar. I watched, paralyzed, as another she-wolf in a pristine white gown took my place. My mate, Beta Seth, didn't even flinch. He took her hand—the hand of his childhood sweetheart, Brielle. And in that silence, his voice echoed in my head through the mind link. "Brielle is pregnant with a rogue's pup. She's mateless. I have to claim her, give her a home in the pack. It's to protect the child. I won't actually mark her. When this is all over, you'll still be my only one." I almost believed his bullshit. Until I saw Seth's hand stroking Brielle's waist after the ceremony. And Brielle, pulling him in for a kiss. In that moment, my eyes burned, and I was rooted to the spot. Seth thought I'd wait. Everyone who watched me pine for him thought I'd come crawling back, begging him to complete our bond. After all, we were fated mates. I'd been waiting for this ceremony for five years. But they had no idea. I turned my back on the pack and left. The moment that failed ceremony ended, I bonded with Lucian. The most powerful Vampire Prince. Three years later, I came back. Lucian called for a truce with the werewolves—all for me. As his mate, I returned to my former pack lands to witness the treaty. But the first thing my arrogant ex-fated mate did was rip the huge moonstone pendant off my neck. "That's the Vampire Prince's moonstone. He bought it for his blood-bonded mate years ago. Where did you get that cheap knock-off? A street stall?" "Enough with the tantrum. Come back. Brielle's kid is three. You can have a cot in the utility closet and clean up after him. Now take that cheap thing off your neck. Don't screw up the peace treaty." I just stood there, rubbing the sore spot on my neck where the chain had scraped, and let out a quiet sigh. He didn’t know that the moment anyone tried to rip this pendant from my throat, Lucian would feel it. And the only thing that would greet them… was his world-ending fury.

The Clan Healer told me that without the vial of Progenitor's Blood, the Blood Blight afflicting me meant I had only seventy-two hours to live. But my husband, Miles, the new Duke of our world, gave the only vial of the precious cure to my adopted sister, Vivienne, the woman I had turned three years ago. "She's in agony from the rejection, Isolde. It's a pain you can't possibly understand." His tone was self-righteous, devoid of any concern for the patch of skin on my collarbone already turning to stone. I nodded, watching as the life-saving, dark red liquid slid down another woman's throat. I accomplished a great deal in the time I had left. As I signed the documents, the lawyer's hand trembled. "Are you certain you want to transfer everything, Your Grace? The territorial rights of a thousand-year-old clan..." I didn't hesitate. "Yes. To Vivienne." My adopted daughter, Lily, the girl I had risked everything to save, who was now forever frozen at the age of eight, cowered in Vivienne's arms, pointing at me and screaming, "Aunt Vivienne is my real mommy! You're the witch who turned us into monsters!" I offered no defense. "Yes, that's right. Be a good girl and listen to your new mother now." The Progenitor's Ring, the symbol of the clan's supreme authority, now rested on Vivienne's hand. "Oh, sister, you're too kind," she sobbed, her sobs a practiced performance. "I'll be sure to protect the family in your stead." I nodded. "You'll run things better than I ever did." I even signed away my control over the Elder Council, a council sustained by my own blood. For the first time in a century, a shadow of complex emotion crossed Miles's face. He stared at me,"Isolde, stop fighting. It's better this way. You need to rest." Yes. On my deathbed, I had finally become the perfect, submissive Isolde they always wanted. An Isolde who was about to turn to dust. The seventy-two-hour countdown had begun. I wondered, when I finally turned to ash,

I died... and then I died again. “Vale,” I moaned, my voice fractured. He met my gaze, his heart racing. “Yes, baby.” I whimpered softly, my breath hitching as his name escaped my lips once more. “V–Vale–!” “You want to make a mess in your pants again, don’t you?” He asked, locking his gaze with my watery eyes as he pulled my face down to meet his by my throat. “Such a naughty vampire, you were so messy and sticky all over your thighs just earlier, and now you want to do it again,” he murmured hoarsely, watching as I cried out in response. Where had all that macho boldness disappeared? He wondered. Just moments ago, I was ready to drive him insane with my teasing, and now I was a mess, a puddle melting away in his hands, completely at his mercy. The power dynamic shifted, and he reveled in my surrender, eager to push me further into this wild desire. **** Talon/Virgil faces an agonizing cycle of deaths. In his first life, his love was crushed, and he was murdered—only for fate to repeat its cruel game in his next existence. How many more deaths must he suffer before he can find the happiness he's been relentlessly pursuing? Just when Talon believes he’s finally found peace, fate spins him back into chaos, casting him into a void once again. This time, he awakens from a coma to discover he's inhabiting the body of a stepbrother he never knew existed until, of course, he awakened in his body—a married man with a family. As Talon grapples with his new reality, he must balance the façade of being a devoted stepbrother, husband, and father while yearning for the one true love that has haunted him through the ages.

Warning: These stories are raw, intimate, and unapologetically intense, written for readers who crave dark, twisted, and emotionally charged erotica. Beware, some hungers don’t loosen their grip once awakened. ~~~ “Look at you, turned on already. Look at your pussy, glistening and oozing even in the dark.” “I’m not…” The words die on my lips as his eyes darken. “Touch yourself. Dig your finger into your hole and see for yourself just how filthy you are.” It isn’t a request. It’s a motherfucking command. ~~~ This collection explores everything from sexual manipulation and temptation to consuming need, obsession, power imbalance, forbidden attraction, and Dom/Sub dynamics. Each story is nasty, tainted, and designed to leave you corrupted. Whether it’s the cold, aloof single dad, the ruthless, wicked debt collector, or the client you simply can’t ignore, each tale will wreck you in the best possible way, and leave you burning for days to come. If you’re bold enough, turn the page.

She never belonged in his world, and he never wanted her in it. When Nora lands a job at the prestigious Sterling Capital Enterprises, she knows it’s her one chance to escape poverty and prove that success isn’t just for the wealthy. But when a secretary’s mistake places her under the cold, dismissive, and dangerously handsome billionaire Adrian Sterling, she realizes survival in his world will take more than determination—it’ll take everything she has. To him, she’s an inconvenience. To his father, she’s an embarrassment. And to the woman he’s supposed to marry, she’s nothing but a nuisance. Yet, no matter how much they clash, an undeniable pull keeps them from walking away. But when past wounds, family expectations, and an arranged marriage threaten to rip them apart, they’re forced to ask: Are they strong enough to fight for what they shouldn’t want? Or is the weight of them too heavy to bear? .

I married my vampire husband ten years ago and gave him a half-blood heir, abandoning my career as a painter to become a full-time mother. Fortunately, my son inherited my talent. At just six years old, he held his first solo art exhibition, inspired by the theme "My Mother." But he never let me attend, and he never let me see his paintings. My husband said my presence would make Luke nervous---that I should stay home and do the housework as a good wife and mother, and wait for them to come back. I told myself he was just young and didn't know better, that he was only pushing back against my discipline, not truly rejecting me. Until the day I snuck into the gallery wearing a surgical mask pulled low. In the center of the crowd, my husband held our son's hand while tenderly pulling a woman in a red dress into his arms. He turned to the guests and announced: "This is Luke's mother---my wife." The three of them stood together, beaming with perfect happiness. And I---the one who'd stayed up all night setting up this exhibition---stood before the paintings while not a single person recognized me. That was when I finally understood. My seemingly gentle, caring vampire husband had long ago given our son a replacement mother. And I was nothing more than the human nanny who'd served her purpose by producing an heir.

Laila, a girl sleeping alone is haunted by a voice. A dark, manipulative voice of a man. That voice petrifies the girl in her sleep. As if the voice were touching her in a place no one touched before. Blaze deVile is a werewolf under his mask. He works as a lecture, just to make his intention of a certain girl can go smoothly. Blaze deVile being a devil himself haunts the life of a human girl, called Laila.

For billionaire lawyer Cynthia, the courtroom is her domain. She's a fierce advocate for women's rights and has won countless battles against injustice. But when her own marriage implodes, she finds herself in the unfamiliar role of defendant. Can she navigate the treacherous waters of her own divorce and emerge with her rights intact?

Found in the marooned ruins of Chavand was a book ripped and torn. Its yellowed pages eaten up and coiled. Forgotten and unheard about was this book until it came to light. His legends lived on, his tales of valour prevailed. His glory seemed enternal and he was worshiped and adored. But his heart remained shrouded in a cloak of mystery. His emotions, his turmoils went unnoticed in an attempt to make him great. Seen as someone who was invincible and immortal, the Rana changes your perspective from his greatness to his soft heart. Written across the pages during his last moments, he wrote his own life. Where bards would be at a loss and poets were simply lost in his glory and valor, the Rana is said to be the only one who could write about himself.