Romans & histoires Metal Gear Revengeance Monsoon

Crown Princess Isla's life takes a terrifying turn when a bizarre urge compels her to steal iron at the market, triggering unsettling dreams, a disturbing connection to metal, and a public scandal. Her family, horrified and confused, confines her to her room. There, a monstrous transformation begins: Isla's body twists into a wolf-like creature, driven by primal instincts and a chilling connection to iron. As Isla grapples with her horrifying new reality, her sister Anne, fueled by ambition and exploiting the public's fear, plots to seize the throne, even resorting to supernatural means to undermine Isla and marry Prince Caius. Escaping her confinement under the full moon's influence, Isla, now a terrifying werewolf, unleashes chaos upon the city. Amidst the terror, she encounters Kael, an ordinary man haunted by the same curse that afflicts her, a descendant of the woman who cursed the royal line generations ago. They find solace and love in their shared monstrous fate. The curse's origin is revealed: a vengeful act targeting the seventh princess, compelling her to worship the curser and bring her iron. United in their shared affliction, Isla and Kael terrorize the city together, their love story unfolding against a backdrop of fear and destruction. Their reign of terror is ultimately brought to an end when the terrified populace captures them, leaving the future of the cursed kingdom uncertain. The story explores themes of transformation, betrayal, the destructive nature of curses, and an unlikely love born in the heart of a nightmare.

“You really think a chrome leash makes me yours?” Timothy’s voice was a jagged shard of glass, his pulse thrumming frantically against the cold metal of the Blackwell collar. Kan leaned in, the scent of expensive bourbon and gunpowder clinging to him. He captured Timothy’s chin, forcing those defiant lavender eyes to meet his own. “It doesn’t make you mine, little ghost. It just keeps you still long enough for me to show you why you’ll never want to leave.” Behind him, Gideon’s shadow fell over them both, heavy and suffocating. “Careful, Kan,” the enforcer rumbled, his knuckles still stained with the blood of the men who’d tried to stop them. “He’s a reaper. He doesn't want a home. He wants a body count.” One Ghost. Two Predators. No Escape. Timothy Gal is a shadow. A high-level operative for the Nash Rebellion, he’s spent his life as a nameless tool in the war-torn Sopttyi District. He doesn’t feel, he doesn’t miss, and he certainly doesn't belong to anyone. But when a routine surveillance mission in Saati Town goes south, he catches the eye of the two most dangerous men in the Blackwell Mafia. Gideon Blackwell is the muscle—a man of controlled violence and territorial hunger. Kan Nelblack is the mind—a predator with a silver tongue and a taste for absolute submission. They don’t just want Timothy’s secrets. They want his soul.

My husband and my best friend had seemingly vanished during my grandfather-in-law's funeral. As I searched for them, I passed Shawn Whitaker's coffin and suddenly saw a live chat window flash into view: [Oh goodie, we're finally dealing with a male lead with a 200 IQ! He dragged Best Girl straight into the coffin before that bitch could find out!] [Aww, he's comforting Best Girl because she's scared of the dark! Aaaaahhhhh!] [That annoying extra is still outside looking for Vincent. She's so dumb, oh my god. I'm right here cheering for Best Boy to cheat with Best Girl because I swear that bitch exists just to get in their way!] Fury surged through me. I moved to flip the coffin lid open, but Jasmine grabbed my arm. "Wait! He can't possibly be in there. I think he went to buy Grandpa coffin nails." [Get yourself a little sister who helps you find happiness like Jazzy, chat.] [And now, in the warm, cramped, humid darkness, two bodies collide and sparks fly. This is metal as hell.] [It's also dangerous as hell. I'm just glad our guy was smart enough to leave a crack for air.] I smirked. Oh, was he? I slammed the lid shut, dragged a nearby lounge chair over, and settled into it. "We've got an hour before the funeral begins, don't we? I think I'll keep Grandpa company." The audience was stunned. [An hour?! They're going to die in there!]

Adam lifted her high into the air. “Hold onto the bar, baby.” Startled, she reached up and grasped the metal, her back against the wall. He stepped right under her, wrapped her legs around his neck and shoulders. His hands gripped her rounded ass and pulled her pussy right up against his mouth. She gasped and arched her back. Adam felt her incredible need. “I’m not going to make you wait, sweetheart.” “Please,” she whispered. “Please.” **** When Katie Lloyd learns her stepfather is dying, she’ll do anything to reach him. Stranded by bad weather and no transportation, she’s forced to accept help from the last man she wants to be trapped with: Adam Pierce. Big, brutal, arrogant... and the one person she’s argued with nonstop since the day they met. A five-day road trip with him sounds like hell. But Katie is out of options. Adam respects Katie’s talent as a photographer, even if her stubbornness drives him insane. Then an accident exposes the truth about her past... and everything changes. Adam shifts from adversary to protector, determined to get Katie home and face the man who destroyed her childhood. Along endless highways and dangerous truths, attraction ignites where anger once lived. And when the journey ends, Adam wants more than her survival – he wants to help her rebuild. In his arms, and in his bed, if she’ll let him.

Three days before the wedding, I was cleaning out some old boxes when I remembered the time capsule Natasha Rowe and I buried ten years ago. When I mentioned it, her face stiffened for a moment. She quickly tried to talk me out of going. "It's been so long," she said. "Someone probably dug it up already." I didn't think much of it and went back to our old high school alone. At the spot where we buried it, I started digging. Instead of one box, I pulled out five metal containers of different sizes. Two of them were the ones Natasha and I buried ten years ago, their surfaces rusted and worn. But there were three others. One of them was just as rusted as ours. The other two looked almost brand new. The old extra box had a name scratched into the lid. Vince Houle. On it were the words, [My secret crush was a war I fought alone. Natasha, I hope you're happy.] I remembered him then. He had been a quiet guy who sat behind us in class. The kind of student no one really noticed. The two newer boxes had names carved into them, too. Natasha and Vince. The date etched into both of them was today. On Natasha's box were the words, [The greatest regret of my life is that I couldn't marry you.] On Vince's box were the words, [The greatest regret of my life is that I can't openly congratulate you on getting married.]

At my father's wake, my wife came in carrying her son. The boy was less than two years old. He was not mine. In front of me, in front of every person there to mourn my father, she opened the urn and held the boy over it. I screamed and lunged for the urn. The Vance security team was on me before I cleared the aisle. They held me on the floor. My father's ashes, mixed with the boy's urine, smeared across my face and into my mouth. I could not stop crying. Stella Vance straightened her skirt. "Zane has been crying every night. Our adviser said the ash of an honored elder will calm a child like that. Good for his health." The taste of metal came up the back of my throat. Before I could move, she was already at the door. "Have his ashes dried out by morning. Zane will need it again tomorrow night." By the time I came back to myself, she was gone. I held the rage in. I sent her one message. "You think you're going to do this to my father. You're insane. The divorce papers are coming." After that, every message I sent was blocked. I turned to the woman next to me, the woman who had stood beside me my whole life. And I said, "I will sign the company over to you. Help me bury Vance Group." Cassia Wynn looked at me a long time. "I don't want the company. I want you." I went still. Then I said, "Yes."

On our third wedding anniversary, Kent gave me a gift. A black metal wristband. Cold. Sleek. He called it a new product from his company—a pain-sharing system. The other user was Violet. His "girl bro." The person he was closer to than his own sister. Kent brushed a hand over my cheek, his gaze soft. "Clara, you're too coddled. You should learn from Violet. She's tough." Then he snapped the wristband onto my wrist. So while Violet got a full-back tattoo and an entire sleeve, I felt every single needle. When Violet went wingsuit flying, I collapsed at home. Every bone in my body felt shattered. I threw up blood. While she soaked up attention online as the "extreme sports queen," I was drowning in nonstop pain. Kent sat beside me, holding my hand as he cared. "Just hang in there. Violet's just being herself. As my wife, you should be more understanding." To finally push me over the edge, Violet decided to livestream herself jumping into the ocean to make me die in her place. Their friends couldn't wait to watch. Later, I watched calmly from a hospital room as the system slowly drained the life out of her. Kent looked deranged as he demanded to know why I wasn't dead. Because I had already reversed the system. All her vitality had become the nourishment that sustained me.

Victor and I were nothing more than a pair of sworn enemies married inside the camp. He hated me for handing over my frail sister to the research institute, all so they could extract the antiviral serum from her blood. And I hated him for never seeing anyone but her, even in the apocalypse, when she could barely lift a metal rod. For the ten years of the apocalypse, the words we said to each other most often were, "Die a miserable death." … However, when the zombie horde finally broke through the last line of defense, he chained me to the modified mech truck and went out alone to face it. "Live…" I watched as the tide of corpses swallowed him whole, the crack of breaking bones mixing with the sound of flesh being torn apart. On the edge of death, he pulled out my sister's faded photo and placed it over the one clean spot on his chest. "This life is yours. But if there's a next one, don't go near her again." … That night, when I returned, I blew up the camp. When I opened my eyes again, I went to the zombie king. His razor-sharp claws closed around my throat, and I smiled as I took hold of his hand. "Let's make a deal. Give humans five more years, and I'll willingly be your queen." Last time, he gave his life to save me. This time, I'll be the monster—so they can all get what they want.

After I was reborn, when Blake's childhood sweetheart Catherine cut a lock of my hair during a party dare — again — I didn't do what I did in my past life. I didn't shear off all her hair in front of everyone and turn her into a bald wolf. I didn't lose control and storm into the Council of Elders when Blake defended her, threatening to sever our mate bond. Instead, I calmly removed the Luna's crown from my head and placed it on Catherine's. "The crown's hers now. Have fun with her." I put on my coat and walked out of the estate without looking back. It wasn't that I wanted to bow to Catherine. But in my past life, after I severed the bond with Blake, things went horribly wrong. He threw me into a cell made of pure silver, like I was some irredeemable criminal, and left me there while the metal scorched my skin day and night. When I finally escaped, I was poisoned by a witch from a rival pack. Dying from the pain, I abandoned every shred of my dignity and crawled to the doors of the Temple of the Moon Goddess, begging him to let the witch give me the antidote. He was kissing Catherine. He didn't even tell his guards to let me in. I died from the poison — one day before my father, the Alpha King, came to find me. I refused to meet that fate again. So I was done with Blake.

Amy Kenny’s grip tightens, his fingers pressing into my skin just enough to remind me who’s in charge now. The warning in his eyes sends a rush of heat straight between my thighs, a dark promise wrapped in restraint. Before I can even think, he moves. With a sharp tug, he flips me onto my stomach, his strength, effortless. A gasp slips from my lips as my cheek meets the cool satin sheets. My heart races in my ears as he pins me down, his body a solid, unyielding weight pressing against mine. I hardly get a moment to catch my breath before I feel Lestat’s hands on me—rough yet precise, pulling my wrists behind my back. The sharp click of metal breaks the tense silence as the handcuffs snap around my wrists. Kenny’s breath is hot against my ear, his voice a low growl. "Lets see if this is really what you wanted." I thought I had them where I wanted. Scratch that—they definitely had me. This collection contains highly explicit content, heavy power dynamics, age gaps, and exhibitionist themes intended for mature audiences only. Read when you're alone. Some desires aren't meant to be tamed, they demand to be seen, surrendered to, and pushed to the absolute edge. This scorching collection of short stories pulls back the curtain on the ultimate worlds of the forbidden. From the breathless tension of a massive age gap to the pulse pounding thrill of being watched, every story dives headfirst into the intoxicating realms of control, exhibitionism, voyeurism, domination, submission and deep, dark heat.