Novel By Michael Morpurgo

Dorian’s eyes darkened with something dangerous as he watched her reaction. “You think you can stand on your own?” he whispered, his voice low and thick with intent. “ If you think is possible then, Prove it, little hybrid.” Before she could respond, his lips descended on hers. The kiss was fierce, almost punishing, as though he was trying to dominate her through sheer force. But what surprised Irwin more was her own response. Her body acted on its own, her lips moving against his, her hands gripping his arms as if she couldn’t bear to let go. Dorian groaned softly as his hands roamed down her body, pulling her closer. His touch was rough, possessive, and yet it ignited something deep within her that she had never felt before. Irwin gasped as he kissed her harder, his hands sliding under her clothes, brushing against her skin.

Being born a white wolf was supposed to be a blessing, but for Faith Collins, it was a curse. Her mate used her for her magic, then rejected her for her younger sister. Now, fulfilling her duty to her pack, she’s forced into mating an evil man for a peace treaty, trapped in a fate she never chose. Only, before vows can be spoken, Faith is kidnapped by the most feared alpha of all, Alpha Kaiden Reed. He was her pack’s greatest enemy and thrived in chaos. To others, he was ruthless and cruel, but to her, he might just be her salvation. As war ensues for her return, her fate rests solely in his hands. But can she trust him, or is he just another captor wanting to use her for her power?

During the height of the plague, Elizabeth is known for touching the dying without fear and for surviving longer than anyone should. The village calls her witch. Death calls her interesting. Malachor is a demon bound to plague and passing souls, ancient and cruel, intrigued by a healer who refuses to beg. When Elizabeth is condemned, thrown into a plague pit, and left to die, she calls out, not to God, but to the darkness watching her. He answers. Bound to a demon of death, Elizabeth survives… and is slowly claimed. Desire becomes devotion. Mercy becomes sin. A dark historical fantasy romance of plague, power, and forbidden surrender where love corrupts, salvation fails, and Hell is the only vow kept. TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING: This story contains mature themes and content intended for adult audiences (18+) Reader discretion is advised. It includes moments of violence, coercion and domination themes, sexual content and dark erotic elements, emotional trauma and moral corruption, blasphemous themes involving demons, faith, and damnation

"That's not very gentlemanly Mr Montclair" I whispered into his ear. He rips my dress only to find me bare underneath. " A gentleman man is far from what you need right now" he replied spanking my bare pussy. ******** On the eve of her engagement, Jade Moretti thought the worst thing she would face was cold feet. She was wrong. Walking into her fiancé’s penthouse, she discovers a betrayal that shatters more than her heart. Elio Sterling, the man she was meant to marry, is tangled in the sheets with her step-sister. Humiliated and desperate for protection, Jade turns to the one man who should defend her. Her father. He disregards her emotions and chooses his favorite child but disguises it as business. Killian Montclair is cold, strategic, and ten steps ahead of everyone her father included. He doesn’t believe in love. He believes in power and control. Jade refuses to be anyone’s pawn again but what does she stand to lose in marrying a billionaire. But in a marriage built on transactions, secrets begin to surface. Killian Montclair may not be as indifferent to Jade as he claims. In a world where loyalty is bought and hearts are negotiated, Jade must decide: Will she remain bound by contract…

"No... No, you can't..." The patient says his desire is a little too strong and wants me to use my body to help him for a medical checkup. He then makes me lose myself in the moment in just a few moves...

“Used. Marked. Betrayed. Now it’s her turn to break the rules." Elena thought being mated meant safety, love, and forever. But forever shattered the day her husband brought another woman home, under the lie of sickness, only for Elena to discover she was pregnant with his child. And worse? He wanted an open bond, like she was some convenience to be traded when bored. Heartbroken but not broken, Elena makes the boldest decision of her life: divorce him, break the mate bond, and make him bleed for every lie he fed her. But Michael isn't letting go that easily. Not when power, pride, and his darkest secrets are tied to her. When Elena turns to Alpha Horace, the ruthless Alpha King and her husband’s estranged cousin, she finds more than protection; she finds someone who sees her, desires her, and is willing to burn everything down to keep her safe.

"In the game of the rich and ruthless; where lines of humanity blurs, blood was inevitable, manipulation was ensured, and betrayal was a norm. You either become a pawn or a player." To the world, Chiara Marino was an art gallery owner with a perfect luxurious life. What people didn't know was a monster she was turned into with no choice but to embrace it. Carmelo Conti is an ambitious and ruthless billionaire who valued his people and family. He is calm and collected, until you touch where you shouldn't have. A forced marriage to a man far worse than her stepfather threatens her life purposes. To them it was just a game. But they forgot that she was a made monster. And monsters don't give a fuck! What happens when Chiara decides to create her own fate?

"Who is she?" My voice came out weak, foreign to my own ears. I despised the way it sounded--like a scared child-and I hated how he made me feel so small, so powerless. He let his breath out in a noisy sigh-a low, suffering sound, as if he was putting up with something beneath him. "Are we really doing this?" His voice was low now, tined with irritation. "It's not what you think. And even if it was, what are you going to do about it? You blind bat?" I froze, as tears slid down my face. I was just blind to him. A burden.

He has made it crystal clear that I’m not to call him ‘boss’ except on certain occasions, like right now, when his dominating gaze carries a hint of playfulness. I can’t help but smile every time he gets like this, all lovey-dovey, but when he whispers in my ears asking me to go on an adventure with him, it is like an invitation to a forbidden feast and the thought sends a shiver down my spine which unlike you would think, is almost painful. Maybe this is because I have been on an adventure with him for as far as I want to recollect. My memories, if you peeked inside, would be overflowing with every moment with him, each one a brushstroke painted with his boldness and my, well, let’s call it a touch of recklessness. I now wear a souvenir, a mark etched onto my soul. It’s like a silent agreement, a reminder that our fates are tangled, intertwined like climbing vines. He’s the puppet master, my very own Mr. Strings, and every twist and turn of his whims gets woven into the fabric of my being. Maybe you find that hard to believe, like something out of a fairytale. But trust me, my darling, as I unravel the threads of our adventure, one by one, you’ll understand. With each turn and twist, you’ll find yourself hooked, a willing captive in the captivating narrative of our lives, possibly harnessed in the labyrinth of our love, where danger dances with delight, and fate is etched in the footprints of a love like no other. So buckle up, dear reader, for this isn’t a mere tale, it’s a thrill ride, a love song made of equal parts fear and freedom.

After the real son, Asher Vale, was brought back, everything in our house became tied to drawing lots. The chef of the day, who would have to cook a particular person's preferred dishes, had to be decided by drawing lots. Even our parents' kisses and hugs were chosen the same way. I always drew the short stick. The long stick, by default, belonged to Asher. He never had to do anything to receive our parents' love. Whenever I felt it was unfair and wanted to cry, Mom would scold me sharply, "I bought the lot-drawing box because I was afraid you'd feel hurt. I wanted to be fair to both of you. If you want something, decide it yourselves. Your father and I won't interfere. If you can't draw the long stick, you can only blame your bad luck." So I began practicing every day, shaking the box diligently, over and over, in hopes that one day, it would help me earn my parents' love. Unfortunately, for ten years, I never once drew the long stick. Until my birthday. Asher wanted to go to the amusement park, and Mom once again told us to decide by drawing lots. I secretly glued the two short sticks together and handed them to Mom, hoping to keep her with me. She slapped me hard across the face, screaming that I was cheating and disobedient. Then she stormed out of the house with Asher. When I fell to the ground, the short stick stabbed deep into my neck. 'I'm sorry, Mom. Next time, I'll work harder. Next time, I'll definitely draw the long stick.'