Novel Dahlia Novels & Stories

This wasn’t just about spending time with Dahlia; it was about seizing control and setting the stage for the final act of my scheme. Driving towards Dahlia’s house, I replayed the journey I had taken to break through her defenses. She had been a fortress of defiance and pain, completely closed off from the world. Yet, I had managed to see through her tough exterior and uncover the softer, more vulnerable side she had been so careful to hide. I had always viewed her as a caged bird, and now that I had unlocked that cage, I was beginning to see the real Dahlia—a tender, beautiful girl who had learned to protect herself behind a façade of strength.

The silence stretched between us, heavy and cold. My heart was beating so loudly it felt like he could hear it. I kept my eyes on his, waiting for him to get angry, waiting for him to do something worse. To my surprise, he leaned away But then, he leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. "Don't think this is over," he whispered, his voice low and menacing. "You may have gotten lucky this time, but mark my words, Denise - I will fuck you soon. Hard. Whenever and however I like. And you will enjoy it because you belong to me. Every part of you. Your mouth. Your pussy. Your ass." Dahlia Rivera has spent her life in her twin sister’s shadow. But when Denise vanishes on the night of h

Skin against skin. I didn’t breathe. I didn’t blink. I just stared. Damien’s hand slid down the curve of her waist. Her hair spilled over his chest. A familiar scent hit me, floral and expensive. Chanel No. 5. My mother’s perfume. The bouquet slipped from my hands, hitting the hardwood with a dull thud. The sound made Damien’s head jerk up. His eyes met mine over her shoulder. His pupils dilated. His mouth fell open. “Elara.”

*Dahlia* *DAHLIA* *DAHLIAAAAA* *I’m horny* *Like really horny* *I can’t get in the mood with anyone else. You have to save me* *I’m dying, actually dying and I have proof* I stared at my phone in horror as another message came through. This one was a photo. Every instinct I had screamed at me not to open it. Nothing good could come from opening a photo sent by Jace Blackmoor at midnight after he’d just told me he was horny. *Don’t click it,* Mena begged. *For the love of the Goddess, don’t click it.*

Daria I'm holding Killian's hand. It's been days, and he still hasn't opened up his eyes, but the flowers in his vase are exchanged. I thought yellow daisies would suit him and plucked some from outside. "The yellow color makes me happy," I'm speaking, hoping Killian can hear my voice even with his severe head trauma. His room is filled with flowers from various fans, but mine are the ones on the table. "And even though you've received more expensive flowers from your fans and Wilder, I think you would prefer the ones directly taken from the street."

And left… Everything went blank. I tried to open my eyes but I couldn’t; it felt like something, something powerful, was holding me down. Then Nelly appeared again. He was lying next to me now, on his side. Sleeping. Long braids tumbled over his shoulders. He was so damn beautiful. Suddenly his eyes opened and he looked forlorn, his brows creasing and the blue of his eyes dimming as he asked in an echoing whisper, "How long, Dalia?" My eyes flew open, my heart palpitating. I blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what I’d just dreamt or saw or...whatever.

Tomorrow I would go back and we would make up again, and I would sit through another day of complaints and silence. I was reading Clara a new book. Dalia had reread the same ones to her a million times, so in her absence I decided to outshine her and buy the young girl some new ones. Tonight she wanted to hear about farm animals going on an adventure, even though she had already heard it last night. I wasn’t in the mood for another argument, so we got to reading.

DEDICATION Dedicated to R, my first reader. Blurb: Taissa Allendale, young, single mother of two and struggling to keep the wolf from the door. Pretty nonexistent social life. When a drunken night of passion leads to her carrying a rich, handsome billionaire's baby, her already lopsided world is thrown off balance completely. Channing Chevrolet, the Channing Chevrolet. He had always believed he had all a young man could ever want, that was until he met a beautiful stranger one night and found himself needing her as he needs oxygen.

They sat at the dining table, the air thick with the scent of roasted chicken and garlic “Do you have any allergies?” Nate asked, reaching for the serving spoons. “Yes,” Dahlia replied without missing a beat. “Fake things.” She actually grinned a little at her own joke. Nate shook his head, smiling despite himself. He plated her food carefully before sitting across from her. Dahlia picked up her fork, took a bite, and immediately regretted it-not because it tasted bad, but because it was perfect. Warm, tender, seasoned to perfection. She bit back a sigh. Do not make a sound, Reyes. You will not give him that satisfaction.

She embraced the doll that Nathalia gave her, because she finds comfort in it whenever she is afraid, which she is all the time. Dahlia's mother was dressed in a black long-sleeved dress, scarlet stilettos, and her hair was carefully done into a bun. Her lips were as red as blood, and she was really going for a stunning look since she was going out to dinner with Grace's wealthy friends. Dahlia would never say no to Grace's invitation to an expensive dinner. Dahlia has been acting as Grace's friend for two weeks now. She couldn't help but giggle inside her head at Grace's naivety, at how she couldn't even see the red flags.