Night And Day - Twilight Novels & Stories

Desire wears many faces and none are innocent. One night can change everything but no two nights are the same. This collection of erotic short stories takes you deep into a world where passion knows no boundaries. From taboo liaisons to forbidden first encounters, from men who crave men to women who surrender to multiple men, encounters that burn with passion. Each tale invites you into a different fantasy—wild, dangerous and unforgettable. Different shades of lust. Raw. Uninhibited. Addictive. Each story is a fleeting moment of heat—but once tasted, impossible to forget. No boundaries. No apologies. Just pure, unfiltered desire.

Mia Price, the most beautiful Alpha in the werewolf training camp, said she'd never seen an Omega lose control. So my Alpha childhood friend, Knox Kelly, and a few of his Beta buddies decided to inject me with a rage-inducing serum. Now I was chained to a stone pillar in the middle of the camp square with silver links, the metal burning into my skin. Wolves passed by, jeering. Some threw punches. Others spat. They laughed, saying even an Omega in a frenzy was still weak. For two solid hours, I was humiliated in front of everyone. The silver chains drained every ounce of strength from my body. I could barely stand. Knox just grinned, shrugging it off. "Mia said she wanted to see what an Omega frenzy looks like. It was just a joke, right?" He tilted his head, all fake innocence. "You're not actually mad, are you? We've known each other for so long. You know me. It was just a joke." I stared at him—and the others—in silence. So this was what my dignity was worth to him. Something to be thrown away for a laugh, to impress someone else. After that day, I went back to my Pack. And I awakened a powerful healing ability. But Knox? He lost it. His voice shook through the phone, barely sounding like an Alpha at all. "We said we'd be together forever. So why—why did you leave?"

In my previous life, my husband's female coworker had asked him to drive her to and from work. I wasn't happy about that, but my husband dismissed my concerns, saying, "We live in the same neighborhood, so it's not like I'm going out of my way. Don't be so selfish." Six months later, she became pregnant and tragically miscarried in our car. The doctor was baffled, saying, "How could she have intercourse in the early stages of pregnancy?" Intercourse? I was confused, as her husband was overseas on a business trip. Before I could fully process the situation, both my husband and his female coworker pointed their fingers at me and claimed that I was the driver during the incident. Because of that, when her husband rushed back from abroad, he stabbed me over twenty times in a fit of rage. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day before he first gave her a ride.

Our cruise ship got into an accident, but there was only one seat left on the lifeboat. The three of us drew lots, and I got it. I wanted to give Zac Xavier the chance of survival that I won. However, while we were arguing, his childhood sweetheart got on the lifeboat first. Just as we thought our lives would end, the rescue team arrived in time and brought us back from the boundless deep sea. After that incident, Zac and I walked down the aisle. Unexpectedly, his childhood sweetheart returned to that sea on our wedding day and jumped into it. When Zac got the news of her death, he was struck by grief and blamed everything on me. He imprisoned the pregnant me in the basement and made my life a torture. I bled profusely on the day I gave birth. He had the doctor save the baby, asking him to give up on my life. My only child was named Rory, something he thought up based on the name of his childhood sweetheart—Aurora. Even when I died, I was consumed by hatred. When I reopened my eyes, I had returned to the day he proposed to me after the cruise ship accident. Watching Zac hold my hand as he had done in my past life and promise to grant my every wish, I calmly withdrew my hand. "Zac, let's break up."

The whole city’s paparazzi knows that Cade Finley would rather sleep with a nightclub escort than with me. The question they ask daily is: When will Mrs. Finley finally give away her precious "first time"? In front of the media cameras, Cade calmly turned towards me. "We can each have our own fun. If you don't like what I'm doing, you can go look for a man too." With that, he casually shoved his hands into his pockets and walked away. That night, he was photographed with his new fling in bed, and it made the trending news once again. While everyone thought I would just sit and wait until dawn, I contacted the paparazzi and bought a trending topic spot. Then, I tore up my lace nightgown, messed up the sheets, and took a bedroom photo from a third-person perspective. I then sent an anonymous message to Cade: "Bro, your wife is amazing. Let me know when you're getting a divorce."

My marriage to Lucian Hawke was hailed as the most perfect union in the mafia world. As the daughter of the Sinclair family and him being the sole heir of the Hawke family, our marriage united the two most powerful mafia families in the Northeastern. I thought we were unbreakable. Then, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. As if life couldn’t get any worse, my husband's first love returned—on the very same day. That night, the man I’d been married to for years didn’t come home. The next morning, his voice was cold, distant. Indifferent. “I’ve got the divorce papers ready. When can you come sign them?” I hesitated, struggling to steady my voice. “I’m still at the hospital.” He didn’t even pause. “I don’t care if you're on your deathbed, Elara. Come home and sign the goddamn papers.” My heart shattered, but I refused to let it show. “As you wish, Lucian.” What he didn’t know was that I was dying—literally. A week later, at my funeral, Lucian wearing a tuxedo, weeping at my grave, whispering regrets he should have voiced when I was still breathing. Ironically, my funeral day, was also his wedding day with his sweetheart. But it was too late, my love. This time, you’ll never see me again.

It was the day of our wedding trip, and my fiancee only hurried over to the airport at the last minute. Right before we boarded, she got an urgent message from her male secretary. "Sorry, honey. There's a big project that needs my attention. Just showed up. You go ahead without me. I'll catch up once I'm done with work." It was a shame, but work was important. "Yeah, I get it." Then, I tore up the flight ticket after my fiancee was gone. My fiancee talking about a big project when I just bought the whole company hours earlier? Well, I'd like to see who was the idiot who worked around their new boss to talk to someone who did not exist.

My three-year-old daughter was playing in the room, and she suddenly fell from the window of the room and died. In my past life, I held her lifeless body after learning the news, crying so hard I thought I would never stop. But when my husband rushed back, he slapped me across the face without a second thought. "How could you be so cruel? You actually threw her out of the window—she was only three!" I was too stunned to react. Later, my husband and my best friend teamed up and testified that I had thrown my daughter from the window because I had an argument with my husband. I was cyberbullied and labeled the "evil mom". Amid the public hatred and the pain of losing my daughter, I jumped to prove my innocence. Even in death, I still didn't understand. My daughter had been fine playing in the room—how did she fall out of the window? When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day she fell.

The night before my wedding, I found out I was pregnant. That same night, I found out my fiancé had already chosen another woman to give him his first child. Adrian DeLuca, heir to a mafia empire and the man who once swore I was the only woman he would ever love, came home carrying her perfume on his clothes and told me, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world, that it was only a medical arrangement. His dead friend’s widow needed an heir, and after I had failed to give him one through sixty-six rounds of IVF, he had decided this was the best solution for everyone. I said nothing. I let him go on preparing the wedding. I let him believe I would still walk down the aisle and become Mrs. DeLuca. But while he was planning our ceremony, I was planning my disappearance. On our wedding day, the estate would still open its doors. The guests would still arrive. The ceremony would still begin. But the bride Adrian DeLuca betrayed would die there. By the time he learned the truth, that I had been carrying his child all along, I would already be gone under a new name, taking his heir somewhere he could never reach.

On the day of my coming-of-age ceremony, all three of my fiancés showed up with the worst reports from their family-run businesses. My father had declared that I would marry the one who could bring the greatest benefit to our family. However, all three of them had already fallen for a penniless scholarship girl named Amelia Jones, and none of them wanted me. In my previous life, I kept them close, mentored them, and poured my resources into helping them rise. By the time they had each become powerful men in my family, they repaid me by framing my father, getting him arrested, and making him age more than 10 years overnight. He was dragged to prison. Me? They hired a crew of street thugs to brutalize me, leaving me to die while my private photos spread across the internet. As life slipped away, I heard their sneering voices: "Did you really think we ever liked you? Everything we did was for Amelia." "If you hadn't chained us to your side, we'd have married her long ago, we'd have a house full of kids by now!" "You and your father ruined her future. She couldn't afford college because of you. She had no choice but to jump!" Then I opened my eyes: reborn on the very day of my coming-of-age ceremony. I pulled my father aside, looked him in the eye, and said, "I'm an adult now. Throw them out. Strip them of every business and every asset we gave them." "I'm not choosing any of them. I chose Bruce Sullivan, the Don of the Sullivan family."