Nightflyer Book Novels & Stories

Book 2: Random Wetness: Blurb: What would you do if, in the middle of a wild party, just trying to dance your heartbreak away over a colleague you secretly crave, then a stranger grabbed you from behind, bent you over so fast and started fucking. Just when you wanted to raise your voice, you started enjoying the pleasure….you leaving you too weak to stand? Yeah. That happened to me. Crushing on the dangerously handsome Kaelon Draven, who doesn’t even know I exist, has driven me to some very reckless choices: Like hiring a smug love doctor to cure my obsession. Like disguising myself as a man just to land a job in his company.

Hello, My Lovely Readers, I want to say thank you to everyone who saw this book to the end. I know it is very different from the other stories that can be found on this app. I enjoyed creating the world around Nyxara's nightmares, and I hope you enjoyed it as well. Thanks again for reading. Solange Daye

THIS CONCLUDES BOOK ONE: DANCING WITH FATE. BOOK TWO WILL BE A STORY WITH THE POINT OF VIEW OF RYAN. BOOK TWO: FIGHTING FATE

I was meeting my younger sister Niamh for a drink after work at one of London’s swanky hotels. Now, you might think there is nothing unusual about two sisters catching up over a cocktail but it’s nothing short of a miracle I still have a sister. It’s also a miracle Niamh could not only book the venue but get there without her support worker. And it’s an even bigger miracle I arrived at the hotel more or less on time.

"No..." I was awakened by soft whimpers coming from somewhere nearby. Slowly, I opened my eyes and was greeted by the darkness of the room, lit only by a small lampshade. I wasn’t used to sleeping in such darkness. I got up, slipped on my slippers, and stepped out of the room, curious about where the whimpering was coming from—it sounded like someone was in distress. I was about to go downstairs when I noticed Ravi’s door wasn’t fully closed. I walked toward it slowly, intending to shut it, when I heard something from inside.

Hatred was the feeling that flowed through his strings at me, and it hurt. Of course I had no right to feel like that; but my emotions never do as they're told and I refuse to rip these ones out. Just because I have no right to feel this way doesn't mean I don't deserve to. Knight is what his name was, but he enjoys going by Fractured now. He was supposed to be the Nightmare Master’s loyal dog who would kill anyone who went near him. Of course, he wasn't actually loyal, just doing as he was told so that his family wouldn't suffer the consequences.

Nida didn't like to sleep with anyone, even though they fit on the mattress on top of the mat on the floor. The only light in the room came from the moon, which shone through the open window. She sighed again when the familiar sadness gripped her chest. She felt hollow, as if she wanted to embrace someone or something, but she didn't know who or what. She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep. Maybe it was because of the fatigue from doing laundry earlier that she was able to fall asleep quickly. Lyzza didn't know what she was doing in that house. It was unfamiliar to her. However, there was a part of her that knew the place; it seemed familiar to her. Particularly, the big pic

He gestured toward the passenger window. I turned and followed his gaze. Parked a couple of spaces away, hidden in the shadows behind a concrete pillar, was a motorcycle. It was a black sport bike, as out of place as could be among the fancy cars of the hotel. “A ride?” He asked. He was offering me a motorcycle ride. The president of Night Reaper was offering me to sit behind him. I looked at the bike, then back at him. My heart skipped a beat. The wind. The speed. Just like that night.

Too heavy. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing, my chest tight with everything I couldn’t say. It wasn’t about the gardener. It was never about the gardener. It was about control. About reminding me exactly where I stood. And somehow… tonight felt worse. Like something inside me was cracking. I was not to leave the room without his permission Midnight came slowly. Painfully. Sleep wouldn’t come, so I reached for the small first-aid box hidden in the drawer.

Ready. Lyanna Black. The name I had been carrying for fourteen months, the identity built for exactly this kind of situation, a woman with enough history to be plausible and not enough to be checkable quickly. Hitchhiker. Wrong direction. Heard something in the trees. Ran. The story had no holes because it had been designed to have no holes, and the only way it failed was if I failed to hold it correctly. Still water, I thought. You know this. You've been doing this since before they gave it a name.