Shatter Me Series Spice Level Novels & Stories

My chest felt tight and I found it difficult to breathe as I stormed across the room in outrage. I swiped everything off the vanity in one furious motion. The vase shattered the moment it hit the floor, shards of glass scattering across the carpet as water seeped into the rug, the necklace skidding across the room, but I didn't care. “How dare he” I said lowly, my eyes glazed. “How dare he think I will accept this pitiful apology. Like a cheap whore!” I screamed. I was startled by the sound of my own voice but it wasn't enough to stop me. I turned on the rest of the room, grabbing anything I could find. Taking a hold of the lamp, I smashed it against the wall as the chair toppled over with a

“Sophia, there's no house without issue, there's no perfect family, we just need courage to overcome the challenges and pass through the phase, stop overreacting” Sophia's tears continued to fall, her voice trembling with a mix of sorrow and anger. “I thought I could trust James. I thought we had something real. But now, looking back, I see that everything was built on lies and betrayal. It’s about the fact that he took everything I believed in and tore it apart.”

I made sure they paid—in the cruelest, most humiliating way possible. I tore my father’s company apart, crushed his legacy, and gathered allies who wanted him ruined just as much as I did. And just when I thought I had nothing left to lose, I found my fiancée in bed with my half-brother, Gregory. Chanel had been the last illusion I had about love. And when that illusion shattered, I stopped believing in anything. I swore off women. I lived recklessly, throwing myself into work, into power, into winning.

I crawled toward the laptop, heart pounding. Damien stepped through the smoke. His gun raised. His eyes locked onto me. He wasn’t sending men anymore. He had come himself. “Give me the drive,” he said, his voice calm. I gritted my teeth. “No.” He sighed. “You never learn.” His gun fired. I dove. Pain ripped through my side. But I didn’t stop. I slammed my hand down— The screen flashed. **Broadcasting…** Damien’s face turned to pure rage. “What did you do?”

"Rule three. You do not talk to the press. About me. About Luna. About anything. If a journalist approaches you, you say no comment. If your mother leaks something, you stop her. My privacy is not negotiable." "Agreed." "Rule four." She paused. She had been rehearsing rule four in front of a mirror in her suite for three hours. "Rule four," she said, "is that I am not going to sleep with you." His eyes flickered. "I did not ask." "You were going to." "I might have thought about it." "You were going to." He did not deny it again. "Aria." "Damien." "Can I say one thing? And then we can go back to rules."

she warned, her voice breaking. “Come for me,” he ordered, thrusting even deeper. She did. The pleasure hit her like a wave. Her whole body shook. Her legs trembled so hard she could barely hold herself up. A loud moan tore from her throat as her pussy pulsed around him, soaking his cock with her cum. The orgasm lasted long, rolling through her in strong waves that left her gasping for air. Jake kept fucking her through it, drawing it out. Only when her shaking slowed did he pull out. He flipped her onto her back again. Mira’s legs were still weak and trembling. She felt thoroughly used and satisfied, but he was not done.

"Show me how sorry you are." I shattered, my entire body shaking on his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. He held me as I collapsed in his arms, supporting my weight as I trembled and shook uncontrollably, wave and wave of heightened pleasure rocking through me.

I didn’t lose control. I was calm. Honest. Brutal. When the interview aired, it trended for two days straight. #ShatteredVows exploded online. People rallied behind me. Women shared their own stories. Victims of power, gaslighting, betrayal. For the first time in months, I felt like I wasn’t alone. That night, Noah slept soundly for the first time. And I cried quietly in the bathroom, clutching the sink, releasing every ounce of pain I’d buried.

Chapter Twenty-Two Alpha Lir POV The glass doesn’t shatter—it just breaks apart in my hand. One second I’m holding a crystal tumbler of aged scotch, the next my palm is burning, filled with red cuts and sharp, glittering pieces. I don't flinch. I don't even feel the sting. "Lir, your hand."

I pushed every memory, every touch, every second of our lives into the crystal until it couldn't hold any more. I wasn't stopping the fuel. I was overloading the engine. The crystal shattered in my hand. A wave of sapphire fire erupted from my palm, a pillar of light that climbed the obsidian spire, turning the black glass into a blinding, white brilliance. I heard my mother scream—a sound of pure, clinical horror—as the system was flooded with the one thing it couldn't process. The truth of a soul that didn't want to be measured. The spire didn't fall. It melted.