Siren Thorn Pregnant Novels & Stories

Grace's heart thumped with rage as she tossed the sheets away and got out of bed. "You dare to call...after..." "Oh please, calm down... I didn't call to hear some pointless lecture," Sophia cut her off. By the sound of her voice. Grace knew how proud the woman was. The guts to even call her. "What do you want... Caesar is my husband..." "I'm pregnant for him..." the words came from Sophia, shocking Grace. She thought she heard wrong, but Sophia repeated the words, shattering her heart even more. "I'm expecting Caesar's child...it's best if you leave us alone."

“She’s at the Blackthorn peak. At the old den. Adrian has her holed up there with what’s left of their loyalists. And she’s carrying the mutt’s whelp.” Father’s brows lifted a fraction. “She’s pregnant. That complicates things.” “Complicates things?” I laughed short and harshly. “Hell, no it makes her slower, softer and easier to crack.” Veron pushed off the wall and sheathed the dagger with a soft click. “Sebastian got someone pregnant. How mature of him to do something nice for once in his pathetic life. He did something my other sons could not do. Don’t know if I should say I’m proud or I’m mad.”

Ariella's POV. “Don’t kill her. Just make sure she knows I could have.” Kiran’s cold stare didn’t waver. “Message only?” “The message is sharp, precise, and unbearable.” We stood under the skeletal branches of pine trees outside Celeste Thorne’s estate. Under her sanctuary, and her illusion of control. The fog wrapped around us like a second skin. “She’s Damon’s mother,” he said. “She’s the empire’s spine,” I replied. “Snap that, and he buckles.”

Yseah spoke with firm but a hollow meaning behind it. Greetings! This is my first ever werewolf story. I really was looking forward writing this. And if there are wrong typos and grammars, that I deeply apologize. I am sorry in advance. By the way, if you're enjoying the story, please vote gems for Mated to the Thorns. Thank you!! -Note: From Author, MysticGrace

I close my eyes biting my lower lip and say softly, “Hands to yourselves Mr. Hawthorne.” “You make me turn on whenever we’re alone, especially when we are in a confined space.” Adrian whispered into my ear as I felt his breath tingling around my neck and could feel my arm hair rise, having goosebumps as he stroked my arm gently up and down. He pushes me slowly into the small room that has a small bed which has only a divider that separates the room.

When she stood in the spotlight accepting her latest trophy, it felt like a flashback to that old concert hall. Even now, the first face she locked eyes with in the crowd was still Yoel's. Except now, he was rocking the dad vibe. Cradling their little girl — who was as cute as a little lamb — in his arms. The munchkin joined in with the crowd's cheers, her tiny voice being the cutest thing. Ever since Holly's surprise pregnancy, Yoel had hit pause on the whole Canfield Group gig. He had gone all-in on taking care of Holly, through the baby bump days and the whole postpartum recovery.

“Don’t you dare.” Kieran’s body convulses. His eyes flicker amber beneath violet. “Isla—” his real voice strains. “Stay with me,” I whisper. The corridor vibrates. Morgan braces the ward lines. Thorne drags the unconscious guard out of the immediate blast radius. Lilith pushes harder. Kieran screams. The baby inside me reacts violently. I drop to one knee. Pain. Blinding. But I hold. Silver threads tighten. Not pulling Lilith out.

The expression—fully his, fully open, the one that lived in the permanent now. "It looks right," he said. "Yes," she said. "It does." Isla called at ten. She had been expecting it — Damien would have texted Isla within twenty minutes of their call, because Damien texted Isla about most things and this was not most things. She answered on the second ring. "Damien told me," Isla said. "I assumed," Sera said. A pause that had nine years in it — nine years of Thursday Thai food and difficult cases and the specific friendship of two women who had been honest with each other in every direction and had never once regretted the honesty.

And as twilight sank into night, Emilia stood and looked at the world below—the lights of Florence, the hum of life—and then turned back to the man who had haunted her dreams. Her voice, when it came, was soft but strong. Final Narration – Emilia’s Voice: “Some beasts are born… others are made. And sometimes, the ones we fear most are just hearts wrapped in thorns. But even monsters can bloom— when someone dares to love them into light.” She turned back, her eyes locking with Max’s. He held out his hand. She took it. And together, they walked through the garden—into the night, into the unknown, into forever.