Scraped Knuckles Novels & Stories

WARNING: 95% Sex Content/1 She-Wolf Vs 5 Alphas Three years ago, my father betrayed my mother, shattering our lives and forcing us into exile. Now, at seventeen, everything is about to change. My mother has found a second chance—with none other than the famous Alpha Thomas Blackthorn of the powerful Blackridge Pack. She's ready to start over, and I have no choice but to follow her into this new world ruled by dominance, secrets, and desire. *** "I Promise," his voice scraped raw, "I won't fuck you. Not until your wolf wakes." His fingers trailed up my inner thigh, hooking under the lace of my panties. "But you'll help me before that." His body pinned me down, muscles taut, skin scorching. His knee wedged between them, forcing me open. Then his grip tightened, yanking my legs shut again— His cock, flushed and massive, pistoned through the tight clasp of my legs. The swollen head peeked out with every stroke, glistening, filthy. I snapped my eyes shut, but that only heightened everything else— The heat of him. The wet slap of skin. The way my body betrayed me, slick gathering where I shouldn't be wet, a traitorous throb building— Shame. Shame. Shame.

Even after more than three years of marriage, Samuel Ferguson still seemed impossible to satisfy. After the third round, he brushed a tear from the corner of Tania Russell's eye, a roguish smile playing at his lips. "Did you cry from the pleasure? Want me to carry you to the shower?" Tania turned her head, avoiding him, her fingers digging into the sheets until her knuckles went white. Steam rolled through the bathroom, wrapping a set of broad shoulders and a narrow waist in a haze of heat — but that heat could not thaw the icy chill in her heart. An hour ago, in the throes of passion, the name "Lulu" had slipped from his lips, and it still lingered in her mind. All those years, he had always called her simply "Tania." After a moment, she wiped her tears, reached for the phone on the bedside table, and stepped out onto the balcony. "Elias, investigate Samuel for me. I think… he's cheating." "A lead?" Elias did not waste time. "He used to call her 'Lulu'".

I help my students gain admission to top state art academies, yet my boss, Sebastian Emerson, withholds every cent of the pay I earned from 24 consecutive days of overtime. When I confront him in anger, he accuses me of stealing 120 thousand dollars in training fees from the students. "Honestly, being poor is no excuse for being shady. And having disabled parents doesn't give you the right to steal. "You've got two days to pay it back! Otherwise, I'll make sure you spend a few nights in jail, and I'll even inform your parents!" When a student calls, he snatches the phone and starts screaming, "There's no money! All your tuition went into buying your art supplies! If you've got a problem, go ahead and sue me, brat!" Meanwhile, Jayla Buckley, who is curled up in his arms, keeps placing order after order of Chaennal haute couture without the slightest hesitation. Watching the two of them colluding so shamelessly, I grip my attorney license in my pocket until my knuckles ache. Take it to court? Litigation? That's my arena. And I'll make sure both of them end up exactly where they belong—behind bars.

When I faint due to my hemophobia after seeing blood on the training grounds, my mate, Alpha Yves Golding, is busy applying medicine to his assistant, Renee Lawson, who has only scraped her skin. After I wake up, the first thing I do is drag my weak and exhausted body to the Elders' Council to request something I never imagined I would ask for—to break my mate bond with Yves. Yves swiftly approves the request, then turns confidently to his Beta and says, "Come on, she's just throwing a tantrum. She's an orphan. Other than staying by my side, she has nowhere else to go. She can't possibly leave me for real. "Besides, aren't there three days left until the Council processes breaking a mate bond? When she comes back regretfully to beg me, I'll withdraw the application. As long as the process isn't finished, she's still mine." Then, Yves uploads a photo on Wolf Net. It features him and Renee standing shoulder-to-shoulder while showing off their muscles in the mirror. They are also gazing at each other with smiles on their faces. The caption reads, "Every bead of sweat deserves to be remembered." Everyone showers him with praise, teasing compliments, and blessings, and every single one stabs into my chest like a dagger. Still, I don't fall apart. I calmly pack my belongings and then pick up my encrypted phone. "Uncle Harrison, it's me. Please arrange a flight back to the Silvermoon pack for me as soon as possible." However, after my departure, Yves is the one who falls apart instead.

On our third wedding anniversary, I brought a gift to my husband’s office. Walking past the secretary's suite, I stopped dead. A king-size bed had been set up inside. A young woman in a designer dress was sprawled across it, a handheld game console in her hands, surrounded by imported snacks of every variety. "Kevin, the lunch you ordered yesterday was pre-packaged meals. Marcus and I both felt sick after eating it. Today, make sure it's from The Palace Hotel." Kevin -- my husband's personal assistant -- bowed and scraped before her, his face a mask of obsequious flattery. "Mrs. Thorne, please don't worry. Mr. Thorne made it very clear -- everything should be tailored to your preferences and the baby's. He knows you love the chef at The Palace Hotel, so he set up a standing VIP account for you. Anything you want, anytime." She was Mrs. Thorne? Then what exactly was I? My brow furrowed. I glanced down at the wedding ring I'd worn for years. The girl beamed, radiant. "For the baby's arrival, my husband is throwing a lavish yacht party. Every important person in New York is getting an invitation. I want the whole world to know that I'm the love of his life, and that our son will be blessed by the most powerful people before he's even born. The champagne and flowers must be the finest available -- no budget limit. Our child is going to have the best of everything from day one." I stared at the gentle swell of her belly and called my father. "Dad, that divorce agreement you drew up three years ago -- you can have the lawyers send it over now."

I got into an elite college with my boyfriend, Philip Jewitt—and tossed my acceptance letter in the trash. His mom was dying. He stood in front of me, eyes red. "Stella, she doesn't have time... If she finds out I dropped out to pay for her treatment, it'll destroy her. Please. Help me. I swear I'll treat you right for the rest of my life." Philip got four perfect years on campus. I scraped by, working three jobs. I paid his tuition. Covered his mom's bills. After graduation, he needed startup money. I convinced my parents to mortgage our house. When his company went public, he proposed in front of everyone. I thought all those years finally meant something. But then he heard his one-sided love, Winnie Schell, died in a car crash. He got drunk and shoved me to the floor. "Why wasn't it you? If I didn't feel guilty about you, I would've married her." I clutched my stomach, pregnant, begging through tears. He sneered. "You owe Winnie everything. You really think you deserve my kid?" Then he kicked me—hard—right in the stomach. Pain ripped through me. Blood pooled between my legs. My vision went dark. When I opened my eyes again, I was back—one hour before the college application deadline.

I watch as he gently places the gun on the table. Seconds tick by a heavy silence filling the room. He takes a stand and makes his way to me. He takes a stance behind my chair and places his firm arms on my armchair, caging me. I bask in his scent and warmth. "You choose now Lana, here and now." He whispers into my ear. His traces my knuckles before grabbing my notebook out of my hands, and tossing it on the table. "I wasn't done with that." I say. He laughs, I feel his chest rumble as he laughs. I turn to face him, feeling my breaths shorten with each passing second. "Eyes on the prize, Lana." He turns my head back towards the table. "You choose the notebook you can go back to living your life in fear and delusion, then one day end up dead in a dumpster or," He brushes a strand of hair from my face, " You could pick up the gun and hunt your past which shall it be Lana?" I feel beads of sweat on my back and my anxiety prickling through my skin. I have to choose, here and now. I extend my hand and pick my choice.

At three in the morning, I stare at the unknown transaction record on my phone screen, my fingertips turning cold. The record is for a payment of 2980 dollars, made for an executive suite at the Wisteria. The time of payment was 8:00 pm last night. My husband, Tristan Griffin, is a detective. He was on the night shift last night. I clutch my phone, my knuckles turning white as I text Tristan, "I just saw your credit card bill for a hotel stay last night. What's up with that?" His reply is instant. "Our team had to work overtime at the last minute, so they put us up at the hotel. I forgot to tell you about it." I scan the text and sputter. The Wisteria is located in the western region of the city, which is on the other end from where his squad is stationed. I don't press him for more details and click on the bank app on my phone. Having found the vendor's address through the payment record, I sent it to my best friend, Rowena Sheffield, who works as a private detective. She replies instantly with an "OK" emoji and follows up with, "Give me a second. I'll find out everything you want in a jiffy!"

"Silvia Ironwolf, for your crime of murder, you will be forever banished from the Packs," Omega Rovit intoned. Another humiliation. To have my fate read out to me by the lowliest member of the Ironwolf Pack while all the others turned their backs. Rovit was loving it. He had worshipped Jedan. He leaned forward, his face close to mine, his spit landing on my face, "And if you ever return to the Wildlands," he finished, "You will be torn limb from limb, your remains fed to the vultures." If my hands had not been bound by the leather mitts, shackled together with silver, I would have ripped his sneering face from his skull and fed that to the vultures. My nails scraped against the soft leather interior of the mitts. My iron nails. The pack guardsmen blunted many tools before giving up on removing the iron from my fingertips. The iron was part of me now. They said that Jedan was barely recognizable when they found him. They said that the iron was a curse that had been bred out of the pack centuries ago. They said that it was my curse that killed Jedan, future Alpha of Firewolf. It was Jedan's inability to understand 'No' that killed him. Now I will be punished. Banished forever from my pack, from the Wildlands. From my love, Vuko. The brother of the man I have slain. * Four years later and the Wildlands packs face a grave threat to their existence. Vuko, the reluctant Alpha of Firewolf, believes they need Silvia if they have any chance of survival. *He* needs Silvia. Will Vuko find Silvia? Will Silvia forgive the packs for the injustice done to her? Is she truly cursed? Are Vuko and Silvia destined for each other?

Tied to a chair, it scraped against the concrete as Victor struggled. "Damn it, lady, I’ll give you this—you’ve got balls that even some men lack." he smiled, blood dripping from his mouth. Celestina pulled back the slide, the metallic click echoing in the quiet room as a bullet locked into place, ready to fire. She Pressed the gun to his head, "Are those your last words?" she asked coldly. ....................... How do you find peace when you're married to chaos itself? You don't. You become chaos. What would you do if your husband who murdered you and slaughtered your family proposed marriage again, and didn't recognize you? For Aria D'Amore, the answer is simple: marry him again, and make him pay for every drop of blood. When Aria is forced into a peace-treaty marriage with her family's enemy, she believes the war is over. Instead, Dante Vallenis uses their wedding celebration to massacre every D'Amore, making her watch before ordering her execution. She survives, barely, and "dies" in the eyes of the world. Eight years later, she returns as Celestina Vale, the mysterious Mistress of The Graveyard, an underground network that controls the Italian mafia through secrets and assassinations. When she manipulates her way into marrying Dante again, he doesn't recognize the stranger he's obsessed with controlling. But as she systematically destroys his empire from within, she falls for his uncle, the one man who tried to save her that night, and the one man who harbors a secret that could shatter everything she's built. So what will it be, love or revenge?