Silhouette Romance Novels Novels & Stories

We weren't lovers; we were two monsters trying to find a heartbeat in the wreckage. The air in the library was thick with the scent of sex and ozone. I arched my back, my fingers digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders, my eyes locked on the ceiling as the world dissolved into a blur of heat and silver light. In the quiet of the manor, while an empty casket sat in the rain, a new queen was being forged in the arms of the devil. And as Silas gripped my hands, pinning them above my head and looking down at me with a gaze that promised both heaven and hell, I knew.

— End of Story — Author's Note This is a story born out of fascination with contrasts: power and vulnerability, silence and devotion, danger and love. Shadows of Silk & Steel is not a romance. It is a testament to the truth that strength does not always roar; at times, it softly and quietly stands beside another soul, refusing to ever leave. Anton and Sabatine were never supposed to be perfect heroes; instead, they were to be human-scarred, fearful, stubborn, and brave enough to love in spite of it all.

Their breaths tangled, their bodies locked together, trembling and shuddering through the crash of it—the kind of intimacy that wasn’t just physical but soul-deep. When it finally softened, when their bodies went lax and their hearts slowly calmed, he collapsed onto his elbows above her, brushing damp hair from her face. She touched his cheek. He kissed her palm. And for once, the Alpha of Blackthorn looked undone—soft around the edges, vulnerable, entirely hers. “Eira,” he whispered, voice barely a breath. “You’re going to ruin me.” She smiled faintly, tired and warm and wrapped in him. “Maybe I already have.”

Silas rasped. He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her earlobe. It wasn't the rough punishment from before; it was feather-light and agonizingly slow, sending a shiver down her spine. Before she could protest, he captured her lips in a long, deep kiss that tasted of pine and hunger. In the mirror, Chloe saw his wolf ears flick into existence and his tail curl around her waist, guiding her hands to his shoulders. When Silas finally pulled back, they were both breathless. Chloe’s lips were flushed and swollen.

WARNING: Dark Romance, Dubious Consent (Drugging/Somnophilia), Supernatural/Beast Content, Choking, Spanking, Breeding, Marking/Biting, Strong Language, Graphic Sexual Content, Creampies, All Holes Used. The sun finally dipped below the jagged horizon of the Blackwood Range, and with it, the human mask I wore during the day began to itch. I sat across from her in our small, cozy cottage-the domestic lie we lived. To her, I was Thorne, the quiet woodsman who had rescued her from the city's chaos. She didn't see the shadow that lived behind my eyes, nor did she feel the way my marrow burned with a hunger that only her blood and her sex could sate.

Celestine grumbled again. Lilyana rolled her eyes. Compared to anyone else, she was certainly the most shaken. Her loyalty had been wasted. Even her pride seemed to have been trampled because Rafael was having an affair with Anastasya, the assistant who worked with him. At least he had lessened his heartache after torturing those two. Cruel? That was his middle name. Sterne's blood runs thick in his body, and Sterne will not stay silent when his pride is trampled on.

I was forced back again and again. "Die!" Silvia shouted. I heard the sharp whistle of a blade cutting through the air. I opened my eyes to see that Silvia had been flung straight into Derrick's coffin, while Ximena stood nearby, her face twisted with fury. "You dared drag me into an illusion and nearly got my husband killed by a backstabber." Without wasting a second, she lashed out, her sharp nails slicing through Silvia and killing her instantly, then stripped off her own wedding dress and forced it onto Silvia's corpse before carving a few words into the body.

“I met my mate, Cori.” I freeze. I always knew this was a possibility. Sirens aren’t like werewolves. We don’t serve any Goddess, so we don’t have mates. We are free to choose whom we want to love. However, sometimes the people we choose aren’t free to love us back. “Tell me you didn’t Troy… please.” “The bond was too strong. I slept with her.” My heart drops, shattering like glass against his truth. The pain surges through me, ripping me apart from the inside.

he said. I obeyed, moving slower this time, hyper-aware of how his presence filled the space. His scent — dark pine, warm musk, and something wild — wrapped around me until I felt dizzy and aching. By the time I finished the second round, my nipples were tight against my dress and heat throbbed low in my belly. “You may leave,” he finally said, but not before I caught him inhaling deeply, as if drinking me in. The pattern continued. He requested me for the smallest tasks — bringing wine, adjusting curtains, delivering messages. Each time we were alone, the air grew thicker. Each time our hands nearly touched or his voice dropped lower, my body betrayed me with fresh wetness and trembling leg

Maurice snarled. "You're going to marry Mo anyway, Giselle. Why cause such a scene?" Camilla slowly approached me and whispered, "Mo won't touch you even after marrying you because he doesn't like you. Just be good and go along with him." I raised an eyebrow and eyed her mockingly. "Oh? I take it this means he's already touched you?" She turned ashen and glared at me. A woman's reputation and virtue were especially important to noble ladies. Judging from her reaction, it seemed she and Maurice had long since crossed the line.